Scandalous Lies: An addictive, sexy beach read

by Nigel May

  Charlie wasn’t quite sure what Evie meant but didn’t push the matter.

  Charlie explained that Georgia had just headed out to America to try and find out the truth behind Mitzi’s disappearance and the death of Foster Hampton and that she was staying with his infamous mother.

  Evie’s face lit up. ‘That’s right, your mother is Nova Chevalier, isn’t she? Victoria mentioned it. I have to admit, her programme is my total guilty pleasure. A couple of my close friends have interviewed her and they say she’s fantastic. I can see where you get your Hollywood looks from now.’

  Boom! Still got it, mused Charlie. He could feel his chest swelling. He never tired of hearing beautiful ladies complimenting him, and Hollywood A-listers ranked high on the pride factor. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his head swell too.

  ‘I’m going out to join them in a few days. I want to be there to support Georgia.’

  ‘How lovely. Listen, I hope you don’t mind, but can I give you this?’ Evie bent down and fished into her Chanel handbag, pulling out a white envelope. ‘It’s an invitation for a charity event I’m hosting in a few weeks’ time. I want to raise money but I also want to keep awareness rolling about Mitzi. Please God she’ll be back home safe and sound by then and if she is, she’ll be guest of honour. I’m only intending to invite a select few but I’d love it if you, Georgia and even your mum and stepdad came along if they’d like to. I understand if they’re busy with the show, but if they can, then great.’

  Charlie was genuinely touched and took the invitation with glee. ‘Thank you, Miss Merchant. That’s amazing and I’m sure Georgia will be thrilled. Anything to keep Mitzi from just becoming another forgotten statistic is an awesome idea. We’ll definitely be there.’

  ‘Good stuff,’ smiled Evie. ‘And please, call me Evie. Miss Merchant sounds like something from Annie!’

  As Charlie headed back to the Rise and Shine studios he couldn’t stop smiling. How lovely to meet somebody that you really admired and to find out that she was just as nice, if not nicer, than you’d ever dreamt she’d be. And highly sexy too. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d interviewed a celebrity, especially ones as big as Evie, and found their egos to be totally overinflated.

  Thirty-One

  ‘Surely you can ditch the fucking gardening for a few days, darling. This is a major opportunity and not one that comes around very often, so I suggest you drop your hoe for a little while and do as I say.’

  Aaron wasn’t sure if his agent, Rachel, was talking about the gardening tool or his affair with Tanya.

  ‘Is that what it’s called, that thing you use to scrape up the leaves, or is that a rake? I’ve no bloody idea and I care even less.’ Rachel clarified her meaning. And anyway, how would she know about his adventurous love-making with the oligarch’s daughter or the scientist’s wife, as he thought of Tanya, depending on how guilty he was feeling about the whole thing. Today, it was not at all. If Tanya wasn’t gaining sexual satisfaction from Mr Big Bang Theory then maybe it was only right that Aaron was the one giving her a big bang worth talking about of her very own.

  ‘So what’s the offer? You’ve obviously dragged me into your office for a reason. I haven’t heard from you in weeks. I thought you’d done a Mitzi and vanished.’ Aaron had lost any semblance of respect for his agent a while back. Whereas not that long ago he would have been all sweetness and light, now he had regular money coming in from the gardening gig he was more than happy to say goodbye to any kind of media jobs. And if that meant saying goodbye to Rachel for good then so be it.

  ‘Less of the cheek, sunshine. And that quip is in very poor taste, especially given what I’m about to tell you.’

  Aaron bit his tongue and listened.

  ‘With all the media coverage of Mitzi and Foster, obviously your photo – supplied by me, I may add – has popped up in a lot of news reports and magazines. Despite the lack of money coming in for your services, putting your rugged chops out there has obviously done some good. I’ve had a phone call about you. One of the Hollywood newspapers ran a piece and they included your mug shot. Well, it seems that with pilot season ready to go in the not too distant future in Los Angeles, a producer over there would like to see you. They’re looking for a British action hero for a new show and even though I’ve told them you’re not an actor, they’d like to see you anyway. Apparently this hairy faced masculinity of yours is all the rage right now and they want somebody who is the antithesis of all the pretty boys swanning around Hollywood playing high school kids well into their thirties. I’ve assured them you have a body to die for as well. I assume you’ve been keeping in shape?’

  ‘I’ve been working out, shall we say.’ Sex with a hungry Russian beat the treadmill or a vibrating plate any day of the week.

  ‘Can I see? I’m not sending you to Los Angeles with any semblance of a man boob. My agenting name would be dirt.’

  Aaron stood up and stripped his shirt off. The look on Rachel’s face was one of approval.

  ‘Good, but you might want to think about a bit of man-scaping with that.’ She motioned to his chest hair. ‘I want them to think of you as the next Jason Statham, not the next Chewbacca.’

  Suddenly the penny dropped. ‘Hang on, you’re sending me to LA for an acting audition? I can’t act. I’m a surfing gardener, or a gardening surfer. Take your pick.’

  ‘Why don’t we let the producers decide, shall we? It’s the same production company behind the reality smash Champagne Super Nova. Big bucks TV. I think they’ve had a hand in things like Empire and Devious Maids as well so they know what they’re doing.’

  It was all white noise to Aaron. Him an actor? No fucking way.

  Rachel could obviously read his fears. ‘Look, Jason Statham was a member of Britain’s National Diving Squad long before he started beating the crap out of people in Hollywood. And then there’s Vinnie Jones. One minute he’s grabbing people’s bollocks on the football pitch and the next he’s sharing the screen with Hugh Jackman. So just head to Hollywood with an open mind. This is a major opportunity. Don’t blow it. Now put your sodding shirt back on!’ Aaron did as he was told. Maybe Rachel was actually back in his good books again. There may be no money on the table right now, but a gig in Hollywood would soon change all that.

  ‘So when do I go?’

  ‘I’ve booked you on a flight first thing tomorrow morning. Someone from the production crew will meet you at LAX. You’ll be there about five days or so I reckon. I’ll email you all the details. Now get out of here and get yourself to a man groomers. Try this one in Islington. I hear it’s fabulous.’

  Rachel scribbled down a name and address and handed it to Aaron. ‘And then get yourself home and packed for LA. And no fucking this up.’

  Talking of fucking, I’d better let Tanya know that I’m out of action for the next few days, reasoned Aaron as he left the office. He wasn’t sure how she’d take the news.

  Thirty-Two

  As Aaron’s text popped through to Tanya’s phone telling her that he would be disappearing for a short while she was standing with her husband in their bedroom, admiring the dress he had just presented her with.

  The Harrods-bought, tissue-wrapped Balmain studded long sleeve mini-dress was a riot of sexy crystallised studs. It oozed evening chic and would not have gleaned much change from two and a half grand. Ignoring her phone on the bedside table, she let her body slide into the dress. It was a work of art and the feeling of it against her skin was a total turn-on. Especially as all she wore underneath were the Coco De Mer panties and open cup bra she had bought on her recent shopping trip to Chelsea.

  ‘Oh my God, Devon. It’s divine. How did you know I wanted a Balmain? They were the toast of Paris Fashion Week.’

  ‘I know, you’re not the only one with an interest in fashion in this house, you know that.’

  It was one of the many things that had actually first attracted her to Devon. His flare was fashion was something that most men
his age could only dream of. It wasn’t necessarily true that money bought taste. She’d seen that often enough back home in Russia. But luckily for Tanya, Devon had both.

  As she stared at him across the bed she could feel a sexual glow creep across her body. Whether it was the thought of Devon or the expensive piece of designer wear caressing her flesh she wasn’t sure but she was determined to find out.

  Walking around to the far side of the bed, she turned her back to her husband, lifted up her hair and asked him to do up her zip. He dutifully did so. As she faced him again, she placed her hand over the bulge forming in his trousers, a sign of his appreciation of her beauty. She grabbed it between her fingers, balling her hand almost into a fist. He appeared to grow harder, enjoying the thin line between pleasure and pain.

  ‘Now, undo yours.’

  Devon didn’t need asking twice, sliding down the zip on his trousers and releasing his cock through his flies. It was long and hard.

  Tanya immediately compared it to Aaron’s in her mind. Aaron’s was thicker and hairier, maybe not as long, but definitely with a lot more girth. She ran her hands down her dress as she stared at Devon’s cock, the feel of the crystallised studs under her fingertips bringing her sexual nerves to attention. She bent forward and took Devon’s cock in her mouth. She shut her eyes, unusually for her, and worked her tongue up and down Devon’s shaft. There was a slight saltiness about it. It seemed different, lighter in odour and somehow less masculine than the earthiness she’d been experiencing with Aaron.

  Devon placed his hands on either side of Tanya’s head and worked her mouth up and down his prick, controlling the speed as he pumped into it. His groan of joy told her that she wouldn’t have to endure the taste for too long. Indeed, a few seconds later he shot his cum into her mouth. A hot, thick spurt. It had obviously been a while since he had last climaxed. There was something deeply arousing about the thought of something so animalistic and carnal being performed whilst wearing such an exquisite dress.

  Standing up again, she licked her lips and lent in to kiss Devon’s. She could still taste his seed. ‘Thank you for my dress, darling. I love it.’

  ‘I’m glad, because you’ll need to pack it for where we’re going,’ grinned Devon, slipping his cock back into his trousers.

  ‘Really, we’re going somewhere? Where, darling?’

  ‘Milan. I thought a weekend of shopping and clubbing would suit us down to the ground. The gardener won’t be around so I thought it’d be the perfect opportunity for us to get away and spend a bit of quality time together. I’d been working long hours lately and you must have been so lonely here with nobody to speak to, so I thought you deserved a treat. I’ve hired a private jet and it takes off in about four hours’ time, so you had better start packing.’

  Tanya tried to show as much joy as she could. She loved the idea of going to Milan, a place she had never been and one that was at the summit of fashion. But how could she? All she could think about was that Aaron wouldn’t be around. Why? What had happened? Had Devon fired him?

  ‘Now, get packing, and make it sexy.’ He unzipped her dress and slapped her playfully on the backside as he left the room.

  Tanya slipped the dress from her body and contemplated the weekend ahead. Her phone beeped again, reminding her that she had a message. She picked it up. It was from Aaron. ‘Have spoken to Devon and said I can’t come round for a few days as have to go to States for potential work. I’ll miss you. Think of me while I’m gone. X’

  Think of him? Despite trying to do otherwise that was all she’d been doing while fellating her husband. Tanya suddenly realised that maybe Aaron had gotten under her Russian skin a little bit more than she had planned.

  Deleting the message, she started her packing. At least Devon didn’t know about the affair. If he did, he certainly wouldn’t be taking her off to Milan, would he? Or buying her such wondrous dresses.

  As she packed she was already counting down the minutes. Not until take-off, but until the next time she could be in Aaron’s arms.

  It was twenty minutes later, while Tanya was showering, that Devon returned to the bedroom. He walked over to her phone on the bedside table and picked it up. Unlocking it using the code he’d seen his wife type in on countless occasions, he touched on the Messages icon and looked at the most recent one that had come through. As he had suspected when it had first beeped, it was from Aaron.

  Devon had watched Tanya when the phone beeped for a second time as he’d left the room. She’d not seen him as he stood, peering around the doorway, watching her face light up with a smile as she read the message. She’d been overjoyed to read his news; that was clear. Surely she couldn’t think that Devon had not noticed the look of consternation on her cheating face when he’d mentioned that Aaron wouldn’t be around for a few days. He wasn’t stupid. Far from it. She thought that he’d fired him. He could read her like a fucking book. His brain wasn’t just a scientific one, it was a scheming one too. And there was no doubt about the answer to this equation. Revenge. He was smarter than she could ever be. His plan was working, he would make her realise what she had to lose. No woman would make a fool of him again. Milan would be an experience that Tanya would never forget. He’d make sure of that. As Devon heard the sound of the shower power jets switch off, he placed Tanya’s phone back on the table and walked out of the room again. A demonic smile twisted itself across his face.

  Thirty-Three

  Quite how it had come to this, Victoria wasn’t sure. She had assumed, wrongly it seemed, that being back home in the comfort of her own family bosom would have been just the stimulant she needed for a speedy recovery. But the truth of the matter was that the pain in her side seemed to be getting worse.

  She’d heard all of the doctors dishing out their prescriptive placatory pleasantries saying that time would be the best healer and that eventually the pain she was feeling, the pain that seemed to drag at every one of her inner tissues and pull it in a million agonising directions, would simply fade away to nothing. But their words of wisdom were easily drowned in a sea of pain. Even the pain of giving birth to a pair of melon-sized twins hadn’t been this bad.

  God bless pills. The only thing that seemed to help was the painkillers. Those little white miraculous chalky tablets that she housed in a bottle alongside her bed. They seemed to be the only remedy that could stop Victoria from tensing her body with every slight movement and clenching her muscles in agony. Her frustration was already beyond exacerbation at hearing Leo and Lexi asking why Mummy didn’t like to hug any more. How do you explain to a six-year-old that the pain in your side outweighs the wish to hold your children tight? Of course it didn’t, but to the two children, her refusal to hug them cut like a knife. They wanted their mummy, and they wanted a fully working one that came with hugs, kisses and the ability to play Twister when required. And for now, that wasn’t Victoria.

  But for a short while, after the effects of the painkiller had taken hold across her body, there was a feeling of contentment. Relaxation would envelop her, a coating of calm would wrap itself around her aching core and a sense of being a normal twenty-eight-year-old woman yet again would once more caress her. A warm welcome back to life, back to normality – even if it was a painkiller anti-depressant cocktail induced ‘normality’.

  She found it amazing what an actual pill could do. No more thought of pain, no more thoughts of Scott’s possible infidelity, no more thoughts of poor Mitzi. Sleep would take her, a blanket of joyous recuperative sleep, to a field of dreams where all woes were banished. To a place where naughty delights like the possibility of Charlie Cooper filled her head.

  Victoria knew she was being foolish but she couldn’t stop herself. In the days since her return home she’d had ample opportunity to think about Charlie. Lying in bed, or shuffling around the house while the twins were at school left her hours for contemplation, and it was mostly Charlie who filled her thoughts. Despite knowing it was no more than a silly, imbecilic crus
h, like the ones she’d had in her youth on James Van Der Beek from Dawson’s Creek and the boys from Hanson, Victoria couldn’t stop herself. She’d even found herself becoming annoyed and, dare she say it, a touch jealous, when Evie had texted to say how wonderful she thought he was. It had to stop. But maybe not just yet. In a world where she was already convinced that her husband didn’t fancy her any more, she longed for a bit of romance, albeit within the confines of her own mind for the moment.

  She knew it was the pills. And she didn’t care. The anti-depressants had been with her for so long now – was it weeks, months … she’d lost count – that the blurred softness they created over some of the more bitterly jagged areas of her life was becoming a very welcome relief. Adding the painkillers into the mix, suddenly new heights of blurred ecstasy seemed to be achievable. Even the thought that she was potentially watching her family shatter into tiny fragments somehow seemed bearable when the pills took hold. The soft foggy cloud of smudged reality they took her to was a place she welcomed. And she had no intention of stopping her visits there. The pills acted like a magic carpet transporting her away from her woes. From her pain, from her insecurities, from her doubts, from her thoughts of Chloe and Scott.

  Victoria had binned the detective she had employed only a few days earlier to find out the truth about her husband’s extra-curricular activities. What was the point? She knew the truth. Her worries about Scott and Chloe weren’t just the product of an insecure woman’s paranoia. Could any woman see her husband touch the nape of another woman’s neck and not doubt his fidelity? It was such an intimate gesture. Victoria’s doubt wasn’t about whether her suspicions were grounded in fact. She didn’t need a private detective to tell her that. It was about her own ability to face the truth and deal with it. Whether her own strength and state of mind could cope with it right now. She needed to look to herself first for strength before confronting the weaknesses of others.