Beautiful Liar

by Tara Bond

  He gave a theatrical bow and exited.

  Once Alex was gone, I felt relief flood through me. For whatever reason, he’d obviously decided not to rat me out.

  Giles turned to me.

  “Sorry about that, Nina. Now, what was on your mind?”

  I blinked, feeling confused. “I thought you wanted to see me.” He frowned, clearly as lost as I was. “I got a message that I was needed in your office—”

  Giles’s expression cleared. “And let me guess—you got here and Alex just happened to turn up?”

  “That’s right.” I spoke slowly, as I began to understand what he was getting at. “You’re saying he was the one who asked Mel to tell me to come to your office? But why would he do that?”

  Giles gave me a rueful smile. “I gave up trying to understand my brother a long time ago.” He walked over and dropped into his chair. I would have made my exit, but I had a feeling he wasn’t done talking yet. I could see him considering his words carefully before he spoke. “Look,” he said finally. “Alex is my brother, and deep down I believe he’s a good guy. But he’s got a reputation. He likes to party hard—”

  “I’ve already heard about the drinking and women.”

  He gave a grim smile. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg, believe me.” I wanted to ask more, but he went on before I could. “Look, Alex can be very charming when he wants to be. I just don’t want you getting dragged into anything by him. He may be my brother, but take it from me, he’s not the kind of person you want to get involved with.”

  The thought that I’d be influenced by some superficial charm amused me.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I understand what you’re saying.”

  “Good.” He gave a brisk nod, but I could see he was still a little concerned. “My father asked me to look out for you, Nina, and that’s what I’m trying to do. He and Alex—well, let’s just say they don’t have the easiest relationship.” I thought back to that meeting in Canary Wharf, when Duncan was clearly exasperated by his son’s turning up late. “To say Dad wouldn’t be happy to hear you were hanging out with Alex is something of an understatement. So take my advice, and steer clear of my brother. It’s in your best interests.”

  I got the message. Duncan Noble had given me this job, and he could just as easily take it away from me if I went against his wishes. That meant staying away from his younger son. And from what I’d seen so far, that was fine by me.

  * * *

  I didn’t have time to dwell on our conversation. It was a busy night in the club, and I spent the whole of my shift rushing around. By a quarter to three I was exhausted. The DJ was ramping up the music for the end-of-night climax, and most people were on the dance floor. I was at the bar, dropping off the empties, when Jas came up beside me.

  “I just want this night over with,” she said. “My feet are killing me.”

  I knew what she meant. Even in the flat black pumps that were standard issue, the standing up became tedious after a while. But while the balls of my feet were aching, there were other parts of me that hurt worse. “It’s my back.” I rubbed my lower spine. “All that bending over those low tables to collect glasses . . . It’s torture.”

  “Still.” Jas winked at me. “Mustn’t complain.”

  I grinned. “That’s right—mustn’t complain.” It was one of Mel’s catchphrases before sending us out every evening—a warning not to let the customers hear us complaining.

  “I don’t know about that,” a male voice drawled from behind. “A complaint to management sounds like an excellent idea. All this pain you’re in—you should ask for a well-deserved pay rise.”

  I turned to see Alex, a smile hovering on his lips. His ice-blue eyes were fixed on me.

  “There was something I wanted to ask you earlier, before my brother so rudely interrupted us.”

  “Oh?” I tried to sound uninterested.

  “I’ve got a few people coming back to my place after this closes tonight, and I hoped you might like to join us.” His gaze flicked over to Jas. “You too, of course.”

  So that was why he’d asked me to his brother’s office earlier. My first instinct was to refuse. I didn’t quite understand why Alex Noble was trying to get to know me, but whatever the reason, I needed to stay away from him. I had enough problems without getting involved with some charming party boy.

  But before I could decline Jas said, “Sounds great! Count us in!”

  “Good.” Alex answered her, but his gaze was on me. He rattled off the address, telling us that it was right opposite Knightsbridge Tube station. “I’ll see you both soon then.”

  I watched him stroll back to his friends, and they all rose to leave. Another prickle of unease passed over me. Instinct told me that I should stay away tonight. But looking over at Jas’s excited face, I wasn’t sure how much choice I’d have in the matter.

  Chapter 7

  Our shift had ended, and Jas and I were in the staff changing room, arguing about whether to take Alex up on his invitation. My instincts were still screaming at me that it was a bad idea.

  “It’s so late now,” I said. I was sitting on a bench, watching Jas riffle through her locker. “I just want to fall into bed.”

  Jas turned to face me, hands on her slim hips. “You can sleep all day tomorrow.”

  “Honestly, Jas, I really don’t want to go. It’s been a long week for me . . .”

  “Don’t say that!” She rushed over to crouch in front of me, gripping both my arms as she looked up at me with huge, pleading eyes. It was theatrical and melodramatic, and designed to win me over. “Please, please do this for me. I’ve been dying to go to one of these parties for ages. Besides,” she added, with a wicked glint in her eye, “if you don’t come, then I’ll have to go alone, and then I’m much more likely to get into trouble . . .”

  She’d just said the one thing guaranteed to get me along. There was no way I was going to let her go into that lion’s den alone. I sighed, feeling myself giving in.

  “Fine. I’ll go. But only for an hour or so—”

  Before I could finish that last part, she let out a little squeal of pleasure, and threw her arms around me.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You won’t regret it. I swear.” She turned away and hurried to her locker, where she seemed to have a whole wardrobe of clothes. “By the way,” she said, as she searched through them. “What did you do to get invited to one of Alex Noble’s parties?”

  “Oh . . .” I tried to sound casual. “Nothing, really. I just bumped into him the other day and we started talking. It’s no big deal.”

  “Well, I hope it isn’t.” She sneaked a look back at me. “Because he’s a total player. Too much even for the likes of me to handle—let alone you.”

  I let the warning slide—it wasn’t as though I needed it.

  After that, it didn’t take her long to get ready. She pulled on a tiny burgundy dress, which showed off her hourglass figure, and slipped into heels so high that I had no idea how she was ever going to walk in them. I watched in fascination as she applied lashings of mascara and dark lipstick, and shook her raven hair loose, so it settled in soft waves around her shoulders.

  It was only then that she seemed to realise that I was still sitting there in my jeans and T-shirt, with no make-up.

  “You’re not going like that, are you?” She wrinkled her nose, showing me exactly what she thought of my appearance.

  I looked down at myself and shrugged. “Yep. Why?”

  “It’s just . . . well, you look a bit masculine, that’s all. I mean, don’t get me wrong,” she said hurriedly. “You’re gorgeous. You’ve got really strong features—big eyes and lips—which helps you pull off that pixie cut . . .”

  Hearing that, I couldn’t help laughing. That term—“pixie cut”—seemed to imply I’d deliberately opted for a style, when in fact it was just easier to wear it short. My mother had cried the first time I’d had my long, heavy dark hair cut off, and routi
nely begged me to grow it out. But that just made me more determined to keep it this way.

  Jas stepped closer, studying me. “I’ve got a dress that you could borrow. And maybe I could just put a bit of make-up on you . . .”

  But I was already shaking my head. “No way. I’m going just the way I am.” She opened her mouth to object, but I held up my hand. “And if I hear any arguments from you, I won’t go at all.”

  She mimed zipping her mouth closed.

  “That’s more like it,” I said. “Now let’s get this over with.”

  Outside the club, the bouncers called a cab to take us over to Knightsbridge. It was policy at Destination that all staff members were provided with a taxi home after midnight. Jas chattered nonstop throughout the journey, mostly about the guys who were going to be there and how she hoped one of them would notice her. In the dress she was wearing, I didn’t see it being a problem.

  The cab dropped us by Knightsbridge Tube station. Right opposite was the super-luxury apartment block where Alex lived. I’d read about the state-of-the-art building, which came complete with bulletproof glass, and was home to the likes of Russian oligarchs and newly minted Chinese entrepreneurs. I’d never expected to be invited to a party there, though.

  Inside the plush reception area, sharp-suited security guards checked our bags before directing us towards the lift. They didn’t seem perturbed that we were turning up at such a late hour, and I got the feeling they were used to Alex receiving visitors at all times of the day and night.

  Naturally Alex owned one of the penthouses. The dedicated lift opened directly into his apartment, something I’d only ever seen on TV before. We stepped into a striking hallway, with gleaming white walls and a polished concrete floor. It was all modern, sharp lines, like an exclusive art gallery.

  “Wow!” Jas breathed. “This place is unbelievable.”

  I didn’t reply. I was determined to appear indifferent to everything tonight, so I might as well start practising now.

  Ahead of us, a door swung open. A snooty blonde emerged from what looked like a guest powder room. Unlike Jas, she wasn’t beautiful, but she was attractive in that expensive, well-groomed way—hair extensions, spray-tanned limbs, and a toned body no doubt courtesy of a personal trainer. She wore a tiny sequinned backless dress that looked like it cost a small fortune, and even though I hated to admit it, she carried it off. It was something to do with the arrogant tilt of her chin.

  I’d seen her around at the club with Alex. She must have recognised us, too, because she stopped in front of us and wrinkled her nose.

  “Who the hell invited the help?”

  “Alex,” I said, enjoying the O of surprise her mouth formed. “He asked us personally. Said it wouldn’t be the same without us here, didn’t he, Jas?” I knew it was hypocritical to suddenly be bragging about Alex’s inviting us, after I’d been wishing he hadn’t. But I didn’t like the way the blonde was looking at us as though we were scum.

  I pushed past her before she could say another word, and grabbed Jas’s hand, pulling her after me.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “Victoria Cavendish—or Tori, as she’s known. Her dad’s in property. He owns half of London. She’s a big spender at the club, and an even bigger bitch.”

  Somehow it wasn’t hard to believe that last part.

  It was only as I walked purposefully along the hallway that I realised I had no idea where I was going. But I used my common sense and followed the noise.

  At the end of the corridor, we entered a vast, open-plan living area. Like the hallway, the walls and floor were gleaming white, which along with the double-height ceilings, created a feeling of space and light. A statement staircase led up to a mezzanine, where I presumed the bedrooms were, and a huge set of patio doors stretched the length of the room, providing magnificent views across London. It was exactly the kind of place I imagined a wealthy playboy to live.

  The décor was equally impressive. Low-slung cream-suede couches surrounded the biggest plasma screen TV I’d ever seen, and a pool table took up one corner. At the far end of the room, there was a state-of-the-art kitchen, and that’s where everyone was—about twenty people crowded round one side of the kitchen island, while Alex played bartender on the other. He was standing on a chair, and had a line of shot glasses in front of him.

  “Come on, Noble!” someone called.

  “Just do it already!”

  To the sound of cheers, he picked up a bottle of Sambuca, and poured it back and forth across the shot glasses, filling them to the brim. The catcalls increased as he grabbed a lighter and ran it across the top of the clear liquid, creating a line of blue flames, like candles on a birthday cake.

  He held up his hands, letting everyone admire his handiwork. Then a second later, he grabbed a beer mat, slammed it on top of the first glass to extinguish the flame, and downed the shot.

  The group let out a roar of approval, and then they all followed suit. There was a glass for me, but I didn’t walk over to join in. I’d never been one for drinking. Seeing my mother’s battle with alcohol had made me wary. I never touched spirits, and I was probably one of the few nineteen-year-olds who’d never been drunk.

  I’d assumed Alex was too caught up in his guests to notice me. But now he looked over in my direction. He held out one of the shot glasses, but I shook my head, and looked away. I wasn’t sure why he was paying me so much attention, but I certainly didn’t want to encourage it.

  “Oh my God!” Jas squealed. “This party is going to be amazing.” She clutched at my arm. “Thank you so much for this.”

  Seeing how happy Jas was, I found it hard to regret coming.

  “Hello, ladies.” The male voice was slightly nervous. We looked round and saw a tawny-haired, ruddy-cheeked young man, who’d been with Alex my first night at the club. In chinos, a pink shirt and blue blazer, he looked almost a parody of a country gent. “You two work at Destination, right?” He stuck out his hand in a slightly formal manner. “I’m Hugh.”

  He shook hands with both of us, but his interest was most definitely in Jas—and I didn’t blame him. With her jet-black curls and smooth coffee-coloured skin, she was by far the most beautiful girl in the room.

  “You’re Hugh Forbes, right?” Jas said. “Isn’t your dad an MP or something?”

  Hugh’s ruddy cheeks turned an even brighter shade of red. “He’s a minister.”

  I searched my mind and suddenly worked out who his dad was—a pompous right-wing ass. It was amusing to think of his son having a crush on a former stripper. I wondered what Daddy would have made of that.

  But whatever Daddy would have thought, Hugh was clearly smitten. His eyes were fixed on Jas as he said, “I wondered if perhaps I could, uh, get you a drink?” He sounded a little unsure of himself as he spoke, and I had a feeling he was worried about being rejected.

  Luckily Jas looked delighted.

  “That sounds lovely,” she said, affecting a fake accent. Then she shot me a worried look. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Not at all. Go.” I made a little shooing sign with my hand. “Have fun.”

  I watched them walk off, Jas chatting away to an enamoured Hugh. I was pleased to see things working out for her—at least then it wasn’t an entirely wasted night.

  There was an ice bucket nearby, with a few bottles of beer upended in it, so I grabbed one, as much for something to do as anything else. Everyone was still crowded around the bar, laughing and talking. But I had no interest in joining in. These weren’t my kind of people, and I was sure I’d have nothing to say to them.

  I noticed then that the folding glass doors led to a terrace. I headed outside, wanting to be on my own. It was ice-cold and pitch-black, a starless night. I pulled my coat around me, blowing on my hands. My breath looked like white smoke in the freezing early-morning air.

  I surveyed the terrace. It was huge, at least forty feet long and fifteen feet wide. It had clearly been designed in ke
eping with the apartment, and there was a modern, almost Mediterranean feel to it. Blue lights beamed up from the huge white tiles.

  I walked over to the Ibiza-style rattan furniture, and curled up on one of the sofas, sinking into the soft cream cushions. It was cold, but somehow peaceful out here, with the sounds of the party behind me.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  I looked up and wasn’t at all surprised to see Alex there. He was carrying an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and two flutes. He set it all down on the low table and took the chair opposite me. He popped the cork of the champagne bottle and looked at me expectantly before he poured. I held up my bottle of beer and shook my head.

  “I’m fine with this.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never known a girl to turn down champagne for beer.” He thought about it for a moment. “You didn’t down the shot, either.”

  “I don’t drink much.” I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted—after all, I’d never had champagne before. But children of alcoholics went one of two ways—either totally irresponsible, or too responsible. Given the choice, I’d rather opt for the latter.

  I’d worried that he might try to pressure me further, but he didn’t. Instead, he took a swig from the champagne bottle—clearly the glasses had just been for my benefit—and settled back in the chair, regarding me with interest.

  “So what brought you to Destination?”

  I took a sip of beer, playing for time before answering. Obviously his father hadn’t told him the whole story, and I wasn’t sure how much of it I wanted to reveal. “What do you mean by that?”

  His mouth turned up at the corners, as if to say, You can’t fool me. “From what I understand, my father hadn’t heard from you in years, and then you suddenly turn up out of the blue. And what—you expect me to believe you just decided one day that it would be nice to get in touch? Please. Give me more credit than that.”

  He was right—and also far more observant than I’d imagined.

  “I lost my job. I needed another quickly, and so I got in touch with your dad. He’d said once that he’d help me if I ever needed him to, and I decided to take him up on his offer.” I shrugged. “So . . . now you know. That’s my story.”