A Vow of Obligation

by Lynne Graham

  ‘Can I go out? I’m going stir crazy in here,’ she confided.

  ‘If you go out or contact anyone our agreement will be null and void,’ Navarre spelt out coldly. ‘Elise will be keeping you company while I’m out.’

  Elise arrived and he had barely left the room before Tawny’s sketch pad was in her hand and she was drawing. Capturing Navarre on paper with strong dark lines, she drew him as she had seen him while she modelled evening gowns for him at the department store the day before. ‘Sensationnel,’ he had purred with his charismatic smile, but she had known meeting his detached gaze that the compliment was essentially meaningless for she meant nothing to him beyond being a means to an end. In the cartoon she depicted the stylist as a curvaceous man killer, standing behind her and the true focus of his masculine admiration. It was artistic licence but it expressed Tawny’s growing distrust of Navarre Cazier’s astute intelligence, for she would have given much to understand why he felt the need to hire a woman to pretend to be his fiancée. What was he hiding from her or from the rest of the world? What were the secrets that he was so determined to keep from public view on that laptop? Secrets of such importance that he was willing to hold Tawny incommunicado and a virtual prisoner within his hotel suite to ensure that she could not share them …

  ‘May I see what you have drawn?’ Elise asked.

  Tawny grimaced.

  ‘If it’s the boss I won’t tell anyone,’ she promised, and Tawny extended her pad.

  Elise laughed. ‘You have caught him well but he is not a lech.’

  ‘A cartoon is a joke, Elise, not a character reference,’ Tawny explained. ‘You’re very loyal to him.’

  ‘I was in lust with him for the first year I worked for him.’ Elise wrinkled her nose in an expression of chagrin. ‘It hurts my pride to remember how I was. He seemed so beautiful I couldn’t take my eyes off him.’

  ‘And then he speaks,’ Tawny slotted in flatly.

  ‘No, no!’ Elise laughed at that crack. ‘No, I realised what a fool I was being once I saw him with his ladies. Only the most beautiful catch his eye and even they cannot hold him longer than a few weeks, particularly if they demand too much of his time and attention. He would never get involved with an employee, but he is very much a single guy, who wants to keep it that way.’

  ‘I can’t fault him for that. Who is the current lady in his life?’

  Elise winced and suddenly scrambled upright again as if she had just remembered who Tawny was and what she was supposed to be doing with her. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t tell you. That is confidential information.’

  Tawny went pink. ‘No problem. I understand.’

  A suave well-dressed lawyer arrived with the confidentiality agreement soon afterwards. He explained the basics of the document and gave it to her to read. When she had finished reading what seemed to be a fairly standard contract she borrowed his pen to sign it and, satisfied, he departed. Elise ordered a room-service lunch for them and when it was delivered Tawny noticed the waiter flicking his eyes repeatedly to the napkin on her lap. She ran her fingers through the folds and felt the stiffness of paper. As she withdrew what she assumed to be a note she pushed it into the pocket of her jeans for reading when she was alone and then shook out the napkin, her heart thumping. A note? But from whom? And about what? Julie was the only member of staff she had got close to and why would Julie be trying to communicate with her again?

  As if to apologise for her caginess about her employer’s private life, Elise told Tawny about her boyfriend, Michel, who was a chef in Paris and how difficult the couple found it to see each other with Michel usually working nights when Elise was most often free. After a light meal, Tawny went off to the bathroom to unfurl the note and felt terribly guilty about doing so, knowing that her companion was supposed to be ensuring that no such communications were taking place. Unfortunately for Navarre, Elise just wasn’t observant enough to be an effective guard.

  ‘If you call …’ the note ran and a London phone number followed. ‘Information about Navarre Cazier is worth a lot of money.’

  It was typed and unsigned. Tawny thrust the note back into her pocket with a frown of discomfiture. Was this a direct approach from the journalist who had tried to bribe Julie into doing his dirty work for him by stealing Navarre’s laptop? If it was the same journalist he was certainly persistent in his underhand methods. Was he hoping that Tawny would make use of her current seemingly privileged position to spy for him and gather information about Navarre Cazier?

  Distaste filled her. She felt slightly soiled at having even read the note. Navarre Cazier might think she had no standards because she had agreed to let him pay her to act as his fiancée, but Tawny had only agreed to that role because she was determined to ensure her grandmother Celestine’s continuing security in her retirement home. If it had only been a matter of personal enrichment, if Navarre had not had the power to force Tawny to give up her employment, she would have refused his offer outright, she reflected unhappily. She would never forget the lesson of how her own mother’s financial greed had badly hurt Celestine. Even family affection had proved insufficient to avert that tragedy and Tawny did not think she would ever find it possible to fully forgive her mother for what she had done to the old lady.

  When she returned to the lounge Elise was taking delivery of a substantial set of designer luggage. ‘For your new clothes,’ she explained. ‘You’ll be travelling tomorrow.’

  Feeling uncomfortable with the other woman after secretly reading that forbidden note, Tawny used the delivery as an excuse to return to the bedroom and pack the contents of all the bags, boxes and garment carriers into the cases instead. By the time she had finished doing that the beautician and her assistant had arrived with a case of tools and cosmetics and Tawny had to wrap herself in a towel to let them start work. What followed was a whirlwind of activity in the bedroom, which was taken over, and the afternoon wore on while she was waxed and plucked and massaged and moisturised and painted. By the time it was over she was convinced that there was not an inch of her body that had not been treated and enhanced in some way. As a woman who devoted very little time to her looks she found it something of a revelation to appreciate how much stuff she could have been doing to add polish to her appearance.

  By the time the hairdresser arrived, Tawny was climbing the walls with boredom, a mood that was not helped by the stylist’s visible dismay when confronted by Tawny’s tempestuous mane of spiralling ringlets. When her hair was done, she was made up, and only when that was over could she finally don the grey lace evening gown. She was looking at herself in the mirror and grimacing at how old-fashioned she thought she looked when Elise brought in the diamond jewellery and Tawny put on the ring, the drop earrings and the bracelet. Studying the brooch, she suddenly had an idea and she bent down and pulled up the skirt to hold it above the knee, where it cascaded down in ruffles to her ankles. Ignoring Elise’s dropped jaw, she anchored the skirt there with the brooch, straightened, pushed up the long tight sleeves of her dress to her elbow and bared her shoulders as well. The dress, magically, acquired a totally different vibe.

  Navarre, waiting impatiently in the lounge to shower and change, glanced up as the bedroom door swung open and there she was, framed in the doorway. The classic elegant image he had expected was nowhere to be seen. There she stood, her magnificent hair tumbling in a rather wild torrent round her shoulders, her face glowing with subtle make-up, dominated by eyes bright as stars and a soft ripe mouth tinted the colour of raspberries. She looked so beautiful that he was stunned. That the dress he had chosen had been mysteriously transformed into sexy saloon girl-style went right past him because he was much too busy appreciating her satin smooth white shoulders and the slender, shapely perfection of her knees and ankles.

  The silence filled the room and stretched as Tawny studied him expectantly.

  ‘Is the shower free?’ Navarre enquired smoothly, compressing his stubborn mouth on any comment relating to he
r appearance. She was working for him. He was paying for the entire display. Any remark, after all, would be both superfluous and inappropriate.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TAWNY knew she had never looked so good and while she waited for Navarre to get ready she tried not to feel offended by his silence on that score. What was the matter with her? He was not a date, he was not required to pay her compliments and at least he hadn’t complained about the liberties she had taken with the grey lace shroud he had picked for her to wear. Shouldn’t she be grateful that he was maintaining a polite distance? Did she want the boundary lines between them to blur again? She certainly didn’t want another kiss that made her feel as if she were burning up like a flame inside her own skin. Well, actually she did want one but that was not a prompting powered by her brain, it was more of a deeply mortifying craving. She told herself that there was no way that she would be stupid enough to succumb to his magnetic sexual allure a second time. Forewarned was forearmed.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Navarre urged, joining her in an exquisitely tailored dinner jacket, the smooth planes of his freshly shaven features as beautiful as a dark angel’s.

  In the lift she found it a challenge to drag her eyes from the flawless perfection of his visage. ‘Don’t you think you should finally tell me where we’re going?’ she pressed.

  ‘The Golden Awards and the showbiz party afterwards,’ he revealed.

  Her eyes widened in shock. She struggled to be cool and not reveal the fact that she was impressed to death. A huge number of well-known international celebrities would be attending the opulent Golden Movie Awards ceremony. The GMAs were a famous annual event, beloved of the glitterati. ‘All the press will be there,’ she said weakly, suddenly grasping why she was wearing a very expensive designer dress and a striking array of diamonds.

  Acutely aware of the abnormal number of staff at Reception waiting to watch their departure, Tawny had to struggle to keep her head held high, but there was nothing that she could do to stop her face burning. Everybody would think she was sleeping with him; of course they would think that! People always went for the sleaziest explanation of the seemingly incomprehensible and why else would a chambermaid be dolled up in a designer frock and walking with a billionaire? Navarre escorted her out to the limousine.

  ‘You’ve got some nerve taking someone like me with you to the Golden Awards,’ Tawny dared to comment as the luxury car pulled away from the kerb.

  Navarre studied her with amusement gleaming in his eyes. ‘Mais non. No man who looks at you will wonder why I am with you.’

  ‘You mean they’ll all think that I have to be absolutely amazing in bed!’ Tawny retorted unimpressed.

  Navarre shifted a broad shoulder in a tiny shrug that was very Gallic, understated and somehow deeply cool. ‘I have no objection to inspiring envy.’

  Tawny swallowed the angry words brimming on her tongue and breathed in slow and deep, while staunchly reminding herself of Celestine’s need for her financial assistance.

  ‘You’re wearing an engagement ring,’ Navarre reminded her drily. ‘That puts you into a very different category, ma petite.’

  ‘Don’t call me that—I’m not that small!’ Tawny censured.

  A grin as unexpected as it was charismatic momentarily slashed his wide sensual mouth. ‘You are considerably smaller than I am and very slim—’

  ‘Skinny,’ Tawny traded argumentatively. ‘Don’t dress it up. I eat like a horse but I’ve always been skinny.’

  ‘We met at an art gallery … our fake first meeting,’ Navarre extended when she frowned at him in bewilderment. ‘If you are asked you will say that we met at an art showing here in London.’

  ‘If I must.’

  ‘You must. I refuse to say that I met the woman I intend to marry while she was changing my bed,’ Navarre told her unapologetically.

  ‘Snob,’ Tawny told him roundly, crossing her legs and suddenly aware of the sweep of his gaze finally resting on the long length of thigh she had unintentionally exposed as the skirt of her gown slid back from her legs. As she lifted her head and encountered those spectacular eyes of his there was a knot of tension at the tender heart of her where she was unaccustomed to feeling anything.

  Hard as a rock as he scrutinised that silken expanse of thigh, Navarre was exasperated enough by his body’s indiscipline and her false impression of him to give a sardonic laugh of disagreement. ‘I am not a snob. I worked in hotel kitchens to pay my way as a schoolboy. Survival was never a walk in the park when I was growing up and I have never forgotten how hard I had to work for low pay.’

  Filled with all the embarrassment of someone labelled a thief and the new knowledge that he did have experience of working long hours for a small wage, Tawny evaded his gaze and smoothed down her skirt. She thought of the very generous tips he had left for her on his previous stays at the hotel and shame washed over her in a choking wave of regret. She wished she had never met Julie and never listened to her clever lies, for she had betrayed Navarre’s trust. His generosity should have been rewarded by the attention of honest, dependable staff.

  The car was slowing down in the heavy flow of traffic, gliding past crowded pavements to come to a halt outside the brightly lit theatre where the Goldens were to be held. As Tawny glimpsed the crush of sightseers behind the crash barriers, the stand of journalists, a presenter standing talking beside men with television cameras and the red carpet stretching to the entrance, something akin to panic closed her throat over.

  ‘Don’t stop to answer questions. Let me do the talking if there are any. Just smile,’ Navarre instructed.

  Tawny found it a challenge to breathe as she climbed out of the car. As cameras flashed she saw spots in front of her eyes and Navarre’s steadying hand at her elbow was appreciated. He exchanged a light word with the attractive presenter who appeared to know him and steered her on smoothly into the building. An usher showed them to their seats inside the theatre. No sooner had they sat down than people began to stop in the aisle to greet Navarre and he made a point of introducing her as his fiancée. Time after time she saw surprise blossom in faces that Navarre should apparently be on the brink of settling down with one woman. That sceptical reaction told her all she needed to know about his reputation as a womaniser, she reflected sourly. Furthermore it seemed to her as though it might take more than diamonds and a designer gown to persuade his friends that she was the genuine article.

  She watched as renowned actors and directors walked up to the stage to collect awards and give speeches. Her hands ached from clapping and her mouth from smiling. It was a strain to feel so much on show and something of a relief when he indicated that it was time to leave.

  As they crossed the foyer on their way out of the theatre a musical female voice called breathily, ‘Navarre!’ and he came to a dead halt.

  Tia Castelli, exquisite as a china doll in a stunning blue chiffon dress teamed with a fabulous sapphire pendant, was hurrying down the staircase that led up to the private theatre boxes. Tawny couldn’t take her eyes off the beauty, who was very much the screen goddess of her day. Earlier she had watched Tia collect a trophy for her outstanding performance in her most recent film in which she had played a woman being terrorised by a former boyfriend, and she had marvelled that she could be even seated that close to a living legend.

  ‘And you must be Tawny!’ Tia exclaimed, bending down with a brilliant smile to kiss Tawny lightly on both cheeks while cameras went crazy all around them as every newshound in their vicinity rushed to capture photos of the celebrated actress. Tawny was knocked sideways by that unexpectedly friendly greeting. Tia was extraordinarily beautiful in the flesh and, confronted by such a very famous figure, Tawny felt tongue-tied.

  ‘Congratulations—I was so happy to hear your news and Navarre’s,’ Tia continued. ‘Join Luke and I in our limo. We’re heading to the same party.’

  ‘How on earth did you get so friendly with Tia Castelli?’ Tawny hissed as security guards escorte
d them back out via the red carpet.

  ‘My first boss in private banking took care of her investments. I’ve known her a long time,’ Navarre responded calmly.

  Tia paused to greet fans and pose for the TV cameras while her tall, skinny, unshaven husband, clad in tight jeans, a crumpled blue velvet jacket and a black trilby as befitted the image of a hard-living rock star, ignored every attempt to slow down his progress and headed straight for the waiting limousine. With a rueful sigh, Navarre urged Tawny in the same direction and wished, not for the first time, that Tia were less impulsive and more cautious.

  ‘So you’re going to marry Navarre,’ Luke Convery commented, his Irish accent unexpectedly melodic and soft as he introduced himself carelessly and studied Tawny with assessing brown eyes. ‘What have you got that the rest of them haven’t?’

  ‘This …’ Tawny showed off the opulent pink diamond while finding it impossible not to wonder just how much younger Luke was than his wife. They didn’t even look like a couple, for in comparison to her polished Hollywood glamour he dressed like a tramp. She doubted that the musician was out of his twenties while Tia had to be well into her thirties, for her incredibly successful career had spanned Tawny’s lifetime. She thought it was good that just for once it was an older woman with a younger man rather than the other way round, and she was warmed by the way Luke immediately reached for his wife’s hand when she got into the car and the couple exchanged a mutually affectionate smile.

  By all accounts, Tia Castelli deserved a little happiness, for she had led an impossibly eventful life from the moment she was spotted by a film director as a naive schoolgirl in a Florentine street and starred in her first blockbuster movie as the child of a broken marriage. She was a mesmerising actress, whom the camera truly loved. Admittedly Tia was no stranger to emotion or tragedy, for violent and unfaithful husbands, jealous lovers and nervous breakdowns with all the attendant publicity had all featured at one point or another in the star’s life. She had suffered divorce, widowhood and a miscarriage during her only pregnancy.