The Darkest of Shadows

by Lisse Smith

  It took me a couple of circuits of the bedroom to calm my rolling insides, and then a couple more to convince myself that I was OK. Lawrence watched me as I walked. He had stripped down to just his pants, and the calmer I got, the more I noticed him each time I passed. He looked good. Really good.

  “Who’s Nicholas?” I asked at one point.

  “Nicholas Janis. He owns that hotel we were in, one of many in his empire. Of all the people that you could have attracted tonight, you definitely picked a good one.”

  “Property developer, my ass,” I snickered.

  “What was that?” Lawrence asked.

  “Nothing.” I waved away his question.

  “Feeling better?”

  “I think I’m still drunk,” I admitted.

  “I imagine you’re going to be drunk for a few hours yet.”

  I had to agree with him on that; I did feel happily numb to the world around me. A slow smile spread across my face.

  “What?” he asked cautiously, catching my grin.

  I didn’t need to answer him, I showed him exactly what I wanted. Slowly, provocatively, I unzipped the back of my dress, then stepped out of the material as it pooled on the floor. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath it, but I did keep my heels on, and with a slightly more wobbly walk than normal, I crossed the room to him.

  “Want to take advantage of a drunk woman?” I asked him with a wicked grin. He did. Oh boy, did he ever.

  The next morning it all came back to haunt me. In grand style. I made the early morning dash to the bathroom and deposited all the alcohol that my body rejected into the toilet. I could hear the amused chuckle come from the bedroom, but I didn’t have the energy to respond. I ended up sitting under the hot water on the floor of the shower and spent a good portion of an hour throwing up nothing but bile. I think I might have poisoned myself.

  “Are you alive?” Lawrence asked, as he settled beside me on the floor. Luckily, it was a big shower.

  “No.” The words sounded hoarse coming out of my throat.

  “Would you like me to kill Nicholas?” he asked hopefully.

  I shook my head, which made me feel even worse. “My fault.”

  “Why did you drink?” He wasn’t accusing, merely curious.

  “Accident,” I admitted. “I got stuck with Jewell for a while, and I had your scotch in my hand. It was either drink it to numb the sound of her voice, or smash her over the head with it.” I shrugged. “I caved and drank it; then when Nicholas gave me a drink later, I didn’t realize it was alcohol, it was so sweet.”

  “They usually are.”

  “I’m an idiot.”

  “No, you’re not.” He stroked the hair back from my face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I thought I would only need a minute or two with Marshall and then be back before you were, but the old bastard wanted me to pay him on the side, and I don’t do that. It took some serious talking before he would play the game properly.”

  “I should have known better. It wasn’t your fault. You should be able to trust that I can look after myself for a few hours without getting into trouble.”

  “Yeah, but you forget that I know the sort of people that troll through those rooms. You have to be very strong to survive that alone.”

  He was right; they were a force unto themselves sometimes. The truly rich lived by a different set of rules than the rest of us did, and it was a game you played only when you knew all the rules—and I didn’t know anywhere near enough.

  Our conversation was interrupted by another round of vomiting. Lawrence finally left me to my misery, and for the first time since I started working for him, I had a day off. There was absolutely no point in my trying to work; it took till nearly four in the afternoon before I stopped feeling like I wanted to be sick if I so much as moved an eyelash, and there was no argument from me that night about not accompanying Lawrence to dinner. The very thought of food had my stomach contracting painfully.

  TEXT: Oh god I got drunk last night.

  REED: U?

  TEXT: No my identical twin!!!

  REED: Funny.

  TEXT: Its so not funny today

  REED: Serves u right. U know better.

  TEXT: Its kind of hard to explain

  REED: r u an adult? Do you not know how to say no

  TEXT: yes, and yes, but it was drink or smash some woman in the face and I don’t like jail

  REED: oh, well in that case. Good work.

  TEXT: Im wishing I had taken my chances with jail about now.

  REED:

  I was sitting on the lounge with Charlie, who had been left behind to babysit me, when the first package arrived.

  The intercom buzzed loudly enough to jerk me out of my half-doze. With an exasperated glance at the ice hockey match he was watching, Charlie walked over to the wall to answer. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, and I really didn’t care that much. I was in my PJs with a fluffy white robe on, and that’s how I intended to stay.

  Charlie waited by the door, half his attention on the game, and the other half obviously waiting for something to arrive. The something turned out to be a huge bunch of roses. Red, of course. I cracked an eyelid long enough to have a quick look and then went back to napping.

  They were plunked down on the table beside me, and I’m sorry to admit that I gagged. “Oh God, take them away.” I all but threw them at Charlie, who was grinning madly at me.

  “Don’t you like your pretty present?” he asked, and deposited them in the kitchen.

  I took deep calming breaths; the smell of them was so strong that it made me feel nauseous. “What are you talking about?” I finally managed to ask.

  “They’re for you.” He flicked a card at me, which I only just managed to catch.

  He was right. Astonishingly, they were for me. From none other than Nicholas. The card read “For an unforgettable woman. Nicholas.”

  “Lawrence is going to go ape shit,” Charlie predicted happily.

  I was too sick to care what he did, so I ignored both the flowers and Charlie. The theory was good, up until about an hour later; then the buzzer sounded again. This time Charlie leaped up with a great deal more enthusiasm to answer it, and from his grin I could tell that I wasn’t going to like what was coming up in the elevator.

  This package was much smaller, too small. It weighed next to nothing in my hands, and I had a sinking suspicion that it was probably jewelry, which was horrifying in its inappropriateness.

  It was a sparking diamond tennis bracelet, and it must have been worth a fortune. Seriously, only someone exceedingly wealthy would think that it was OK to give someone they didn’t know a gift of this much value. Whatever happened to sending chocolates?

  “I think we can safely assume that Lawrence is not going to like that at all,” Charlie added to his earlier comment.

  I carefully placed the bracelet back in the box and picked up the card that was attached. There was no note this time, just a mobile number. I stared at it for a long time, wondering what I should do. Obviously I had to return the bracelet; there was no way that I was accepting it. Who cares about the flowers…but this, it was unacceptable. The only problem was that I didn’t have his address, only a phone number. If I called it from my phone, he would have my number, which I wasn’t about to give him; that and the fact that I was more than positive that Lawrence would not be happy if I called Nicholas.

  I placed the bracelet and the card on the table beside me and did the only thing that I could—I went back to sleep.

  I’m not sure how long I slept, but it was long enough for the game Charlie had been watching to morph into a baseball match. What had woken me wasn’t Charlie or the noise from the TV; it was Lawrence, sitting quietly beside me. I opened my eyes just long enough to see the card from the flowers in his hand before I snuggled down closer to him, my head coming to rest in his lap.

  “Nicholas sent me flowers,” I mumbled into his lap.

  “I see that.” He was trying r
eally hard not to stay calm.

  “And a bracelet,” I added as an afterthought.

  “Really?” Oh, it took a lot of effort to keep that one word as even as he managed.

  I reached out and snagged the bracelet from the table and dropped it beside Lawrence. “Send it back,” I told him, my eyes closing again as I settled sleepily in his lap. “I don’t want his stuff.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” I didn’t realize quite how worried he had been until he knew I didn’t want the gifts. The tension in his body drained almost instantly, and his hand, which had been gripping the card to within an inch of its life, finally settled gently against my head, his fingers tracing their way through the tangle of my hair.

  “Don’t be mad,” I requested quietly. “Nicholas isn’t interested in me, not in that way. This is just an excuse to get to you. It’s not often he would be able to play in your league, and he will exploit this any way that he can.”

  Lawrence moved out from under me and then reached down to lift me in his arms. “You are far too intelligent for this world, Lilly,” he whispered, as he carried me down the hall to our room. “Far too good for me.” He whispered the last words almost to himself.

  I’m not sure what Lawrence did when he returned the gift to Nicholas, but that was the last we heard from him. Lawrence, however, made up for it with a replacement bracelet—not diamonds, however, but sparkling sapphires that were absolutely stunning. The diamonds came in a set of earrings that were beyond words and made it easy to forget about any gift from someone called Nicholas.

  Months passed, and life became normal again, or as normal as it was when one lived with someone like Lawrence Monterey. We racked up more frequent flyer points than most pilots. Work was comfortable and rewarding, but also exhausting, and I had even managed another directors’ meeting. However, this time Lawrence arranged it so that Patrick couldn’t attend, something about it clashing with the opening of a casino in Asia that he couldn’t miss. Pity, that. I knew it would be a short respite, however; I couldn’t ignore him forever, and in fact he had already sent through his confirmation for the next directors meeting, which now loomed only a few weeks away.

  Lawrence and I had settled into a fairly stable arrangement; it was more common knowledge than not that he and I were an item. Most people still treated me with the same level of respect that they had when I was only his assistant, but now they talked to me more personally. They had access to someone personally close to Lawrence, which I discovered was a rare thing. Never before did he mix business and pleasure. Usually his dates for functions were exactly that, very short term, and the women certainly had no influence or knowledge of his business interests; so to suddenly have me handed to them on a platter was more than some people could pass up.

  Everyone wanted to be friends with me, or at least they all sent their wives to be my friend. I couldn’t count how many times I got invited to play tennis or golf—both of which I wouldn’t have touched if they paid me. Lawrence found it highly amusing. I was getting to the point where I was going to smack one of those simpering women with a tennis bat if they asked me again.

  “You know, this is all your fault,” I told him one evening. I had just managed, with his help, to extricate myself from a particularly enthusiastic wife of a local contractor who though that we should absolutely go shopping together the next day. It was only when Lawrence mentioned that I actually had to work—yes, I did have a job—that she finally realized it wasn’t going to happen. I had mentioned that fact myself, but it seemed the words had to actually come from Lawrence for her to believe them.

  “What’s my fault?” We were at a high-profile charity auction to raise money for a disaster relief effort for a small island somewhere near Thailand that had recently been decimated by an earthquake, so the invite list was mostly the big players in business and celebrities. However, there were always a handful of people who weren’t quite as wealthy as the rest who managed to snag an invite as well.

  “Stop being so nice to them,” I snapped at him. I knew he was doing it on purpose; there was no way that he would normally have given a frig about any of them—that is, right up until they sauntered up to me and introduced themselves; then he was all charming and lovely. “You’re doing it on purpose so that you can sit back and watch while I try and get out of their clutches.” He handed me a drink from a passing waiter, and we moved off to the side of the room, his body hiding me from view of the room as he backed me against the wall.

  “But it’s so amusing to see you squirm,” he teased, with a wicked gleam in his eye.

  “I can think of other ways for you to see me squirm.” I raised an eyebrow in invitation. “But you keep this up, and you won’t see that at all.”

  He followed my logic impeccably, so impeccably that he moved a step closer, indecently so in this room, and allowed our bodies to brush tantalizingly close to each other. “Let’s ditch this place and see about that,” he suggested.

  “Tempting.” I leaned up to brush a kiss over his lips. Hopefully, if anyone saw, it just looked like we were talking intimately. “Very tempting.”

  “Is that a no?” he breathed against my lips.

  “That’s a later. Definitely a later,” I assured him. We’d only just arrived, so there was no way we could sneak off already. The auction hadn’t even started yet.

  “Making out in the corner, Monterey. How very déclassé.” Nicholas’s voice interrupted our little moment. Seriously, of all the people to meet, it just had to be him.

  Lawrence wrapped his arm around me and turned to face Nicholas. “I won’t say it’s a pleasure, Nicholas, because that would be a lie; and as I’ve already been informed tonight, I’m to stop being nice to strangers.

  Apparently it encourages a familiarity that isn’t appealing.”

  I laughed at his choice of wording, then pulled his arm from around my waist and twinned my fingers through his. “Hello, Nicholas.” I stepped into the silence between the two men. “It’s nice to see you again, and now that there is no misunderstanding between any of us, I’m sure we will have a much more enjoyable experience. However, if you will excuse us, Lawrence promised me this dance.” I didn’t wait for his response but led a grumbling Lawrence through the crowded room and into the adjoining one, where they had made space for dancing.

  Dancing would take his mind off Nicholas. Even though it would probably be frowned upon by the upper-class snobbish matrons in attendance, I pressed my body, top to toe, against Lawrence and gave up all pretense of actual dancing. We swayed gently to the slow beat of the music, his arms like steel around me while my arms rested gently around his neck, my fingers tracing patterns in the hair at the back of his neck.

  I watched as gradually the frown dropped from his face, replaced by amusement and a touch of puzzlement.

  “Why is it that you can calm me so easily?” he asked finally.

  “Because I’m amazing.” I laughed up into his beautiful dark face.

  “That you are,” he agreed, and lowered his head to rest against the top of mine. “That you most certainly are,” he repeated.

  “Don’t take life too seriously, Lawrence,” I told him quietly. “It’s too short and too precious and far, far too dangerous to be that structured.”

  That night Lawrence bought me a racehorse. Not exactly romantic, but it was for charity, and its name was Red Rufus. I laughingly told him that was the name of my childhood pet dog. He assured me it was an omen, and moments later, I was the proud owner of a sparkling new racehorse. When I gave him an incredulous look, he teasingly informed me that I was really an owner in name only. Apparently, I could quite happily continue my life and never actually see the horse, because it was a charity the purchase came with training and everything included. All I had to do was pay a yearly maintenance and training fee and occasionally, if I wanted, go and watch it run.

  That’s my kind of pet!

  “Congratulations.” Nicholas managed to find his way over to
us later that night. “Didn’t know you were a racing fan.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about her,” Lawrence said from behind me. He had been talking to a friend and I had turned to look out over the crowd when I came face to face with Nicholas.

  “Seriously?” I stepped back so that I was pressed against Lawrence. “If you two can’t be civil to each other, then I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to find someone else to talk to, Nicholas,” I told him, leaving neither in doubt that I wasn’t serious.

  “I was genuinely curious when I asked. I’ve got racing stables, and when you bought that horse, I was just wondering, is all.” Nicholas explained.

  “My apologies,” Lawrence said with a nod.

  “How about we forget that night ever happened?” I told them both. “I assume that you were both amicable before. I think you should both try and be civil to each other again.”

  “Lilly’s old dog was called Rufus.” Lawrence gave an inch toward renewing their acquaintance, and I was sure that had a lot to do with my assurance that I wasn’t going to leave him for Nicholas. “I bought it for her because of the name. She was horrified.” He smiled down at me.

  “Oh.” Nicholas seemed surprised, probably more so by Lawrence’s stretch toward amicableness than by his actual words. “Well, if you need any advice, give me a call. I know a lot about the racing industry. You never know, your horse might just beat one of mine yet.” He shrugged.

  “Of course, mine is going to win,” I joked.

  Nicholas cracked a smile in response. “It wouldn’t surprise me if it did. You actually bought yourself a really good horse.”

  Talk between Nicholas and Lawrence settled after that; with only a little prodding on my end, they managed to keep up a fairly even conversation. I had hope for them, because as much as Nicholas annoyed him, I knew Lawrence well enough to know that they could be good friends; that is, if they could get past their own individual issues with control.

  The end of the evening found Lawrence, Nicholas, and me absconded in a dark corner of the bar, with both of them well on their way to being extraordinarily drunk. I watched with amusement as they traded stories with each other. Probably part of the reason that they could be friends was that they were both into different areas of business. Lawrence wasn’t into the accommodation industry in Europe, or anywhere else for that matter. Not in the manner that Nicholas was. Nicholas built or bought and ran boutique hotels; he rarely sold them, instead focusing on keeping them profitable and exclusive. Lawrence, on the other hand, was more into large-scale development concepts; the closest he got to a hotel was a casino or a resort facility, and most of those he sold off as soon as they started to turn a profit.