Weapon of Desire

by Brook, L M

  WEAPON OF DESIRE

  L.M. BROOK

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright L M Brook 2013

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Where would I be without my friends and family who have provided honest criticism and valuable advice? Thank you to Gloria, Sasha, Marina, Jane, Eileen, Lynn, Jayne and Deborah. Your support for my passion reinforced my self-belief to write a tantalising novel.

  Sally, Matt, Amanda and Marina thank you for all of your help and pulling me into the 21st century of technology. Tweet you soon!

  Bobbie you are amazing! What patience after producing several variations of artwork for my book cover and then for me to choose the very first one you designed. I should always trust your initial judgment.

  Not forgetting my wonderful husband who I have used over and over again for research purposes during the past year. You are my diamond, preferably in the rough!

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  PROLOGUE

  The chateau stood peaceful as the grand clock in the hall gently ticked. Little Freya and her mother Anna snuggled underneath the fur blanket on the chaise longue reading their favourite Brothers Grimm book. As they lie beside the bedroom balcony, autumn leaves fell silently from the trees onto the Beust valley. Anna’s chestnut hair hung softly over her shoulder and tickled Freya’s cheeks as she leant forward to turn each page with her elegant fingers. Freya drifted into a happy sleep and her mother then carried her along the corridor to her waiting warm bed. She slumbered soundly as the golden splay of the lamp light washed over the room.

  The big house groaned as Freya’s father Philipp returned home and stumbled up the old oak staircase. He mumbled incoherently in a drunken stupor as he made his way along the corridor. The scent of strong perfume and liquor filled the air. Freya could hear her parents’ bedroom door swing open and her mother’s low and incomprehensible voice as she woke. Then the door slammed behind him as she listened to bare feet moving on the wooden floor boards with a loud thud followed by low whimpers.

  Anna knew it was useless trying to avoid the inevitable blows. Philipp staggered around the room and she fell with every punch as she begged him to stop. Her cries escalated into screams and then there was deadly silence.

  Freya gradually fell back to sleep and when she woke it was morning and all was calm. Philipp still slept as Anna got out of bed to wash her bloodied face and strategically applied makeup to the tender bruising. She busied herself helping Lara the housemaid who prepared breakfast. As freshly baked bread was put on the table, the whole house took on a welcoming aroma. Lara adorned the breakfast table with beautiful wild flowers she had picked from the chateau’s hillside gardens.

  Finally Philipp appeared, looking handsome in his German officer’s black tunic and Freya admired the shiny silver badges on his hat. He was a man exuding a powerful presence with sparkling blue eyes, chiselled chin and dark blond, swept back hair.

  Nothing is said about his horrific, drunken behaviour of the night before. It was ignored, as it had been many times before. Freya kissed her father goodbye and he left in his polished black Mercedes-Benz Roadster down the tree lined driveway.

  Mr Milburn a British Royal Air Force Officer visited along with a French gentleman. Anna smiled warmly and genuinely to greet them. Lara nervously packed two leather bags, one filled with Freya’s clothes, a favourite book and doll that she had received for her 6th birthday and the other filled with money and jewels that Anna had retrieved from a large safe in the house.

  Anna faced Lara with a smaller package and said nothing. The pair smiled affectionately at each other, sharing a wordless message that they both understood.

  Anna then turned towards Mr Milburn and slowly approached him before opening a black velvet box to reveal an antique gold key.

  “Please keep this key safe for Freya,” she whispered as she handed him an envelope with her daughter’s name scribed beautifully on the front. “When the time is right.”

  Anna zipped up the bags and bowed to Freya with a huge smile and cloudy eyes. She held Freya’s face with both hands and kissed her gently and slowly on the forehead breathing in the scent of her hair.

  “Be a good girl and I‘ll try to be with you soon. Remember I love you”.

  Mr Milburn retrieved a gun from his inside jacket and handed it carefully to Anna. “Remember what I’ve taught you,” he instructs. “I’ll be back later.” His face was serious as he held Anna’s shoulders, kissed her gently on the lips, stroking her badly disguised bruises.

  He stooped to pick up one bag and the French gentleman carried the second. Then he held out a hand to Freya who looked apprehensively at her mother as she placed her tiny hand in his.

  They walked out towards the forest where a truck waited. Freya turned to see Lara with an arm around her mother as they stood watching from the doorway. She pulled her hand free from Mr Milburn and blew a kiss in their direction. Anna threw her hands up in the air to catch it and slowly waved goodbye.

  As she left, Freya knew in her heart that she would never see her father again and that this was for the best. She also recognised her mother would be happier without him and that they’d both be safe with Mr Milburn.

  CHAPTER 1

  My car engine purrs as I drive a little faster through the winding country roads. The mist covers the surrounding open fields as Aretha Franklin proclaims “respect” over the airwaves. I am keen to be at work early today to meet my new boss - the Head of Strategy and Development. It’s my job to conduct a tour of Dorton Army Airfield and introduce him to all key staff. I’m really excited after hearing so much about him.

  Walking through the main Officer’s foyer I smooth down my rucked pencil skirt and then stoop quickly to wipe a scuff on the toe of my black court shoe. As I stand I catch a glimpse in the grand mirror of my unruly blond curls that hug my cheek bones. I approach Reception and greet Angela cheerily.

  “Good Morning how was your weekend?”

  Angela looks immaculate as usual with her shiny, blond, bobbed hair, sparkling smile and her pink nails tapping on her keyboard. She always has a funny story to tell and this morning is no exception.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she says coyly raising an eyebrow. “I had a fabulous time with friends in London, not that I can remember all of it!” Angela is twice divorced, a mother of two adult sons, who, at the age of 49 was living life to the full.

  I shake my head in mock disgust but before I can respond the entry phone system chimes.

  “Good Morning,” Angela sings sweetly. She sounds every part the professional receptionist but I know if her tall tales are anything to go by, that she can devour a man with a glance. “Hello, please come straight through.”

  “Mr Hunt is here,” she whispers and hands me a sheet of paper with my tour schedule and timetable for the morning.

  I turn in the direction of the marble foyer where Mr Hunt is striding towards me. He is tall, distinguished, with short dark hair tinged with silver highlights and hazel e
yes that twinkle in the light of the chandelier. His smile is infectious displaying perfect teeth broadly set in a freshly shaved and smooth jaw. His black suit and crisp white shirt frame his muscular shoulders and a charcoal silk tie, which looks extremely expensive, hangs loosely on his chest inside his open jacket.

  “Good Morning Mr Hunt.” I extend my hand to welcome him.

  He holds out his right hand to expose stray dark hairs under the cuff of his shirt and one single twisted, gold ring on the second finger. My eyes fix on his strong hold as we shake hands and then I regain eye contact. His eyes are deep and mesmerising.

  “Yes it is a good morning,” he answers as he studies my face.

  He is very confident and I feel like a small, nervous girl before him.

  “I am Darcey Brooks – Business and Operations Manager,” I smile and try to maintain a poised demeanour as I slowly withdraw my hand. “I’m so pleased to eventually meet you, especially as I missed your last visit.”

  “Yes it’s great to meet you at last,” he replies. “And please, call me Anthony.” He looks at me with searching eyes as though he can read my thoughts and see through my bravado.

  “Anthony, I believe you have the pleasure of my company for an estate tour this morning but first let’s show you to your office.”

  We make our way through the reception where Angela melts and has to be discreetly persuaded to release his handshake greeting. As she continues to stare at Anthony we carry on down the corridor towards the offices.

  “Did you travel far?” I look up to his face registering my interest as I knock at the PA’s office door before entering.

  “No, I’m staying with my parents in Suffolk so I can take my time to explore and get a real feel for the area,” he says as he greets his PA Patricia, who jumps to her feet.

  Patricia is elegantly dressed with a high necked, twee, lace blouse and pleated red wool skirt. Her short black hair is tucked behind her ears and her glasses rest half way down her nose.

  “Hello again Mr Hunt, it’s lovely to see you,” she trills. “I hope you had a good journey in. Please let’s walk you to your office and I’ll make some coffee.”

  “Patricia I’m fine at the moment but thank you, how about you Darcey?” He shocks me by using my first name, immediately settling for an informal, friendly approach.

  “No thank you,” I reply. “Patricia, perhaps we will take you up on that offer later.” I smile at Anthony as we move further down the corridor.

  I turn the brass door knob to the large office where leather Chesterfields and a lacquered oak boardroom table and chairs are neatly arranged. Anthony walks towards the window to admire the view and sets down his briefcase on the table.

  “What a wonderful clear morning. Darcey, I hope those heels are comfortable? I may push you at a brisk pace.” He twists in his shiny black brogues and unleashes that wicked smile. “You have my full attention this morning so I’m looking forward to being deeply enlightened about how things tick around here.”

  I feel as though I’ve been hit with a bowling ball. Who does he think he is kidding? I have walked this estate a hundred times and according to his personnel file, I’m 12 years younger than him! I blush a little at the thought of him noticing my high heels and his regimented and controlling statements feel like they have hidden meanings. He’s not at all as I expected.

  “Yes, let’s crack on,” I reply breaking eye contact and turning to face Patricia.

  Her eyes widen as she turns to leave the room.

  It is an unseasonably warm October day. We decide to walk along the gardens at the rear of the main building that overlook the river and leads towards the School and Abbey.

  “Anthony I understand you have worked as Head of Operations and Development at RAF Hornchurch?” I’m cautious to ensure that I keep up a good walking pace and don’t trip in my high heels which I know he wouldn’t approve of.

  “Yes, I was there for 10 years, fabulous base with very dedicated staff.” He looks down as he speaks with a grin.

  “Have you always worked for the Royal Air Force?” I’m keen to learn a little more about him.

  “No I qualified as a German teacher and taught in London before deciding to study for a Diploma in Business Analysis.” He slows his pace to take in the stunning and peaceful surroundings.

  “Have you always had an interest in languages?” I match his walking speed and look across for an answer.

  “My mother is German so we have always used German at home. But my father is British.” He stops and stares at the view of the river and the boats that silently glide by.

  “So why leave London for quiet Suffolk?” I stare at him as he seems hypnotised by the gleaming waters.

  He startles me as he breaks his trance and locks eyes. “I needed a complete change of scenery, a new start. My parents have a wonderful house here set in 43 acres where I’ve fond childhood memories. So here I am.” He smiles and then continues to walk towards the school.

  I can’t help feeling that Anthony is something of a free spirit, like a soaring eagle contemplating where to land. He seems to be completely in control of his emotions although I’ve a feeling that he is leaving his destiny open to chance and would go wherever the wind blew him.

  “What about you Darcey, tell me about yourself.” He stares directly into my eyes for an immediate response. He is very focused and perceptive and seems to have a knack of making me feel both wary and in awe of him.

  “I qualified as a Chartered Accountant and worked in London as an Analyst and Business Adviser, particularly across local authorities and schools. They were my London party years after finishing University. I was born in Suffolk and returned when I was 28 – missed Mum and she needed me when Dad died. I’ve worked here for the past five years.” I stop to gauge his opinion of my life story and look up to see him deep in thought.

  “So you also live with your mother?” He smirks as though he is pleased that he is not the only one living with parents.

  “No,” I laugh. “I’ve an apartment overlooking Needle Lake. I couldn’t live with my mother, we are too alike - she would drive me crazy!”

  The remainder of the morning is busy introducing Officers and eventually we return to Anthony’s office where I leave him in Patricia’s super, efficient hands. Patricia wants to go through Anthony’s diary appointments, any important functions, events and arrangements that have already been made.

  My evening is filled with restless activity; I’m unable to settle in front of the television whilst I pick at my food. Even delving into another work project doesn’t hold my attention and finally I give in realising I’m too tense to work, I need to relax in a hot bath. My thoughts quickly wander with questions surrounding the intriguing Anthony Hunt. Why does he fascinate me so much?

  The next day I arrive early, travelling through the estate with the prominent stately house slowly peering into view. The early morning sunshine feels warm on my face and I wonder how long it will be before autumn once again veils the sky. As I park my cherished Z4, I notice a 7 series, silver BMW with tinted windows pulling into a car bay. I can’t make out the driver, whose eyes are hidden behind sunglasses but he smiles and turns in his seat. I am just about to smile in return when I am interrupted.

  “Good Morning Darcey.” Anthony steps out from the back of the car wearing a deep navy suit with a pale pink and white chequered shirt. The way he says my name sounds so sexy.

  “Wow,” I think. “He looks hot.” I remove my sunglasses and tuck them under my arm inside my handbag. Then I zap my car central locking system with a flourish, trying to disguise the blush which spreads to my cheeks. “Good Morning Anthony.”

  He walks towards me and my heart starts to beat faster. “I want you to clear your diary today,” he instructs. “I would like you to work with me on financial reports.” He stops directly in front of me and then looks at his Rolex which glistens against his tanned skin. “We have a full day ahead of us. I’ve arranged for us to
take lunch in my office. Shall we meet in my office to start work in half hour?” He looks up for my approval.

  “Yes I’ll be with you shortly.” I pick up my leather document bag and swing it onto my shoulder as he turns and walks towards the entrance.

  He stops and turns as though he has forgotten something “Oh by the way – Happy Birthday!” He smiles and then is gone.

  I grin to myself and feel a little shocked that he knows.

  I’m about to head into work when I hear the window of Anthony’s car slowly lower.

  “Hi I’m Nick,” says a voice.

  I turn to find myself face-to-face with the attractive man sitting in the driving seat of Anthony’s chauffeur-driven BMW. He has removed his sunglasses to uncover piecing blue eyes against a tanned face. He is wearing a pale blue shirt that complements his eyes.

  “Hi I’m Darcey.” I offer my hand to greet him and he gently takes hold with one soft shake.

  “Lovely car, do you drive Anthony everywhere?” I ask.

  I’m suddenly aware that perhaps I’m being too nosey.

  “I’ve driven for his whole family for about eight years,” He says and grins as though he knows I’m feeling a little awkward. “How long have you worked here Darcey?”

  “Five years, although it doesn’t feel like it – time flies!” I smile and then remember as I look at my watch that I shortly need to be with Anthony. Nick seems a really sweet guy. “I must get moving; I’m supposed to be with Anthony in half hour. Nice to meet you.”

  “Yes same here.” He puts on his glasses, starts the engine and closes the window, guiding the beautiful car out of the car park.

  I wave as I turn towards the main entrance.

  As I arrive in my office I’m met with the fragrant scent of roses. I drop my bags and fire up the computer while I admire the huge bouquet on my desk. While I wait for my emails to load I read the card that is tucked in the pink paper wrapping.