Fifty Shades of Roxie Brown (Comedy Romance)

by Lynda Renham

  I venture back to the dining room and look for Ark Morgan, but there is no sign of him. I expect he is greeting his other guests. I can see a guest holding a crash helmet. He has his back to me but I guess he must be the motorcyclist. I can’t imagine why Ark Morgan would invite someone like that. It just seems so out of place. He turns, ruffles his hair and it is then I see his face. Holy shit, what the hell is Sam Lockwood doing here? I swear to God the guy is stalking me. What if he knows Ark Morgan really well, he’ll give me away. What to do? I need to phone Sylvie. Why is he here? I thought he didn’t like Ark Morgan. I glance over the shoulder of the man in front of me and see Sam Lockwood hand his things to the cloakroom assistant before accepting a Buck’s Fizz. He’s dressed very casually in a pair of jeans and white shirt and stands out like a sore thumb. He sips his drink and glances around. I move my head so he can’t spot me.

  ‘Are you fish or meat? What tickles your taste buds?’

  I jump at the sound of Ark’s voice and blush. I can think of many things about Ark Morgan that tickle my taste buds.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t see you,’ I say stupidly.

  ‘I smelt you,’ he says with a smile.

  As long as he’s talking about the perfume then that’s okay.

  ‘You still haven’t answered my question, are you fish or meat?’

  ‘Fish please,’ I say with a quiver in my voice.

  ‘The oysters are good,’ he smiles, placing some onto my plate. ‘Oysters are good for you in more ways than one. Do you like them?’

  Holy crap, I should pinch myself. Oh God, did my breath just hitch? I wish my heart would stop thumping. I feel it will burst out of my chest like a scene from Alien.

  ‘Try one,’ he says, holding a shell in front of my mouth.

  ‘Is this sensual or is this sensual?’ whispers my inner goddess. Its mind blowing is what it is. I do as I’m told. I don’t need telling twice. I’ve read enough Fifty Shades to know how to submit. I open my mouth to take the oyster and pray like a religious zealot that I don’t choke on it.

  ‘Let the juices slide down your throat,’ he says softly.

  That was it. With those words, it’s like the ache in my loins explodes and I begin choking like no tomorrow.

  ‘Killing off the guests now are you Morgan?’ says a familiar voice.

  I accept a tissue from Sam Lockwood and dab my watery eyes.

  ‘Well well, if it isn’t Sam Lockwood. Correct me if I’m wrong but I felt sure it was your manager I invited?’ says Ark, his eyes hard and his tone caustic.

  ‘He couldn’t make it I’m afraid. I’m here on behalf of Lockwood Estates,’ responds Sam with a grin.

  ‘Hello Roxie,’ he says turning to me. ‘How are you? Fully recovered from the boxing match I hope.’

  I cringe and pray Ark didn’t hear him.

  ‘Hello,’ I say shyly. ‘Yes, fully recovered thank you.’

  ‘Are you okay Miss Brown?’ Ark asks, turning his back on Sam Lockwood.

  I nod.

  ‘Perhaps a little water,’ he says, gesturing to a waiter.

  ‘I’d avoid the oysters if I were you,’ smiles Sam, ‘they’re not all they’re cracked up to be.’

  I sip the water and try to avoid Sam Lockwood’s eyes. Ark hooks my arm through his.

  ‘If you’ll excuse us, there is something I wish to show Miss Brown.’

  Ooh he can show me his something any time.

  ‘It’s Roxanne,’ I say.

  Sam Lockwood raises his eyebrows. I’m whisked past the throng of guests. The place is brimming with people.

  ‘Oh we bloody roared didn’t we Luce?’ a deep-voiced man is saying to the laughter of his audience. Ark leads me past a champagne fountain.

  ‘Would you like another?’ he asks, glancing indifferently at the fountain.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I say.

  ‘Not as beautiful as you,’ he says softly, moving closer. Heavens, someone needs to pinch me. I can’t believe that Ark Morgan has noticed me. Should I tell him I work for him? It’s always good to be honest at the start of a relationship.

  Whoa there girl, whispers my subconscious, nothing’s happened yet. It will though, says my inner goddess. It won’t be long before he gets those nipple clamps out. You go girl.

  I shiver.

  ‘Are you cold?’ he asks, removing his jacket and draping it around my shoulders. His touch has me verging. I’m like a nympho. Still, that’s not a bad thing with someone like Ark Morgan is it?

  ‘Just a little,’ I say.

  He leads me away from the noise of the party and into a mirror-panelled ballroom. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling. I stare in awe. I’ve never seen anything like it. I thought the hotels were stunning but this is breathtaking. Everywhere I look are reflections of Ark Morgan and me. He smiles at me through a mirror.

  ‘Actually, we have met before,’ he says, clicking his fingers. ‘I remember where it was.’ He gives me a smile that melts my heart while his words nearly stop it beating all together. Oh no, please don’t say he remembers me from the lift with Henry up my skirt and polish spilt down my overall.

  ‘The House of Mirrors,’ he says, ‘do you remember?’

  I’m speechless with relief. My body feels like it is vibrating until I realise it’s my phone. It has to be Sylvie. I’m about to reach into my clutch for it when Frank Sinatra’s Witchcraft croons around us. Oh my God, it’s the same as in the Fifty Shades movie. It has to be a sign doesn’t it?

  ‘I believe this is our song Miss Brown, after all, you have put a spell on me,’ he murmurs, tracing his fingers along my arm. I tell you my loins think it’s Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one.

  ‘Dance with me,’ he says huskily, pushing the remote button and increasing the volume.

  He’s turned up my volume all right, and everything else. My breasts are bursting out of my lacy bra. I fear the back clip will snap and I’ll burst forth. It’ll be like an upmarket porno film. Linda Lovelace will have nothing on me. He takes my hand and I hold my breath. He places it onto his shoulder and circles my waist to pull me closer. We glide effortlessly around the ballroom, our reflections bouncing back at us from all angles. It’s a good job he is holding me up because my legs certainly aren’t.

  ‘So, why are you here alone? Surely a woman who looks as gorgeous as you has someone in her life?’ he asks curiously.

  This Jo Malone is potent stuff. I’ll have to buy a job lot.

  ‘We broke up,’ I say honestly.

  Let’s face it, Darren wouldn’t be seen dead here unless they had lager on tap and a barrel of custard creams.

  ‘His loss is my gain,’ he says. ‘So how do you know wanker Sam Lockwood?’

  I flinch.

  ‘I don’t really. I kind of bumped into him at the Fun Palace. I don’t think he’s a wanker.’ Why I’m defending Sam Lockwood I do not know. His face darkens as he twirls me around and then back into his arms.

  ‘You seemed very friendly with him.’

  ‘I barely know him.’

  ‘I should tell you that the Lockwoods are corrupt and can’t be trusted,’ Ark says his face hardening. ‘We had a dispute last year over a plot. The Lockwoods were trying to buy the land for cheap warehousing which would have devalued the area terribly. Fortunately their usual tactic of ignoring planning rules was discovered and the sale fell through. I was able to buy the site and bring employment to the area with one of my hotels. Sam is, of course, very bitter about it.’

  ‘But surely that kind of thing happens all the time in business?’ I say.

  He stops dancing.

  ‘Sam Lockwood hits below the belt. He tried to steal everything from me and when that didn’t work he stole the love of my life …’ He breaks off and struggles to compose himself.

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s silly of me to be so upset. I’d just hate you to be misled by him. He has that Mr nice-guy manner about him. Women are often enticed by it. Please don’t be fooled.’

&
nbsp; There is silence for a moment before my phone vibrates again.

  ‘Someone wants you,’ he says huskily. ‘I really can’t blame them. I wish we could stay here all night but I fear I have to get you back Miss Brown and it really is rather rude of me to neglect my other guests just because I prefer this very fragrant one.’

  He twirls me again and then clicks off the music.

  ‘Shall we?’ he asks offering his arm.

  I take his arm and then freeze when he asks.

  ‘So what brings you to the Crescent?’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ‘Oh shit. What did you say?’

  I’m huddled in yet another loo cubicle. The lacy Brazilian knickers really haven’t done well under pressure. I really should have brought a spare pair.

  ‘I didn’t. He had a call on his mobile and I left him in the ballroom. What am I going to say if he does ask, and what about Sam Lockwood? I’m living a dream and nightmare all at the same time,’ I say trying not to panic.

  ‘Stop panicking for a start and whatever you do, don’t say you’re a chambermaid. Jesus wept, that would be romantic suicide.’

  ‘But what if he sees me at work?’

  ‘Come on, Rox, how often has that happened?’

  ‘You can’t very well hide me in the cleaning trolley can you?’

  ‘I’ll shove you in a cupboard if I have to.’

  See what I mean about Sylvie being a true friend. How many would go the extra mile like that?

  ‘As for Sam Lockwood, why should he mention you working for the Morgan Group? He’ll probably think as you’re there at the party that you have a high-profile position.’

  I sigh with relief. She’s quite right of course. I’m just panicking. In fact the boat is so huge I can easily avoid Sam Lockwood for the whole evening.

  ‘Stay calm,’ instructs Sylvie. ‘You look fabulous. I told you Ark Morgan wouldn’t be able to resist you. Now go out there and party-party-party.’

  With a final yank of the panties I obey Sylvie’s instructions and venture back to the dining area. I do a quick check that Sam Lockwood is not around and fill my plate with roast beef and salad. It’s then that I see him. He’s picking the raspberries off the garnish of a beautiful pavlova. How rude is that? He should at least cut a piece. I feel like giving him a piece all right, a piece of my mind. After all the trouble Ark must have gone to and to think he even kindly invited a representative from Lockwood Estates even though they have treated him badly. That’s integrity in business isn’t it? Before I know what I’m doing I’m marching around the table to confront him, catching snatches of snooty conversations along the way.

  ‘He read history at some obscure place in Wales, I ask you,’ snorts a man with an uncanny resemblance to Boris Johnson.

  ‘Well you should read the Telegraph darling, then, you’d understand. One has to make a stand,’ another woman is saying.

  I quite agree. I’m about to take a bloody stand with Sam Lockwood.

  ‘I’m voting Tory. I mean what else is one to do?’

  Huh, I vote green. You can’t go wrong then can you? Not that I’m into Greenpeace or anything, although, I did make an effort to sort my clothes out one weekend with the intention of selling them on eBay and giving the proceeds to Greenpeace, but finally decided I needed them much more. I wasn’t flush then. I’m about to approach Sam Lockwood but stop in my tracks when I see he is talking to a long legged blonde. She is laughing and her white even teeth sparkle. She’s like a woman out of a toothpaste advert. She’s wearing a light blue velvet dress with a plunging neckline. Her arse certainly doesn’t look big in that and I bet my lottery win that her lacy undies haven’t got all screwed up in her unmentionables. I can pretty much guarantee that her boyfriend isn’t screwing a bottled redhead either. Above the swell of her breasts are a string of pearls which match her pearl stud earrings perfectly. She flicks her hair provocatively. What am I doing? I spin around to make a quick exit.

  ‘Roxie,’ he says.

  I’m like a rabbit caught in headlights. I so need a rabbit hole. I cough nervously.

  ‘Hello,’ I say, feigning innocence. ‘I’m trying to decide what to have for dessert.’

  I’m holding a plate of roast beef and salad. I must look a right glutton.

  ‘This is Verity Robinson, she writes for the Guardian,’ says Sam.

  ‘Oh,’ I mumble, putting down my plate. Please don’t ask me what I do for a living.

  ‘He makes it sound so grand,’ she laughs, pretending to be modest.

  It’s grander than being a chambermaid.

  ‘I write a column for the property supplement,’ she adds, acting not in the least modest. In fact it wouldn’t surprise me if she shoved the latest edition under my nose next.

  ‘I should be getting back, Calvin will be wondering where I’ve got to,’ she says in her silky soft voice.

  Calvin? Oh well, I suppose it’s better than Darren. She kisses Sam on the cheek and gives me a little nod.

  ‘I thought you’d gone on a boat expedition with Ark Morgan,’ he says, scooping up more raspberries.

  ‘There are fresh raspberries on the table,’ I say irritably. ‘Why are you taking them from here? You’re totally ruining the garnish.’

  ‘You’re worried about the garnish?’ he asks with his irritating grin.

  ‘It seems very rude when there are raspberries already on the table.’

  ‘Are you on a Save the Raspberry Pavlova Campaign?’

  I sigh. The man really is impossible. He slices through the pavlova and places a piece onto his plate.

  ‘Does that help? Am I allowed them now?’

  ‘I never said you weren’t allowed them, I just …’

  ‘Told me off for helping myself to dessert,’ he says, his tone sharp.

  I straighten my shoulders.

  ‘I just feel if someone has made all this effort then it is important to be polite.’

  He nods.

  ‘I agree totally. I’d hate to think of poor Ark Morgan working his fingers to the bone over all this food just to have me thoughtlessly massacre his pavlova.’

  ‘Enjoy the evening,’ I say, turning away.

  ‘You’re not having dessert?’ he says mildly. ‘There are plenty of cinnamon-free choices.’

  I hear the smile in his voice. He’s mocking me.

  ‘I’m well aware of that,’ I say, putting down my plate to accept a glass of wine.

  He reaches across me to take a glass from the waiter, his hand accidentally brushing my breast. His touch sends a shiver through me.

  ‘So, how do you know Ark Morgan then?’ he asks, before clicking his fingers and adding, ‘Oh, I remember. You work for the Morgan Group don’t you?’

  Oh no.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ he says, holding up his hand. ‘You’re in charge of catering. That’s why you’re so devastated about the pavlova.’

  I watch as he slices into it.

  ‘I’m more involved in the domestic side of the hotel’s upkeep,’ I say before taking a large gulp of wine.

  ‘Oh really,’ he says, taking a bite of pavlova. ‘How does that work exactly?’

  I’m doomed. I open my mouth to tell the truth when there is a drum roll scaring me half to death.

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our host, Mr Ark Morgan.’

  Ark runs his hands through his hair, nodding confidently at everyone as he walks to the centre of the room. He gives his guests a dazzling smile and I can almost smell his fresh fragrance from here. He holds up his hands for quiet. I’m mesmerised. It’s then I see it, as he looks down to the floor. Is that a small bald patch on the top of his head? No, surely not. It must be a trick of the light. Ark is perfect. Anyway, bald men can be quite sexy can’t they? Not that Ark is anywhere near bald.

  ‘Thanks everyone. I just want to thank you all for coming tonight. Eat, drink, dance and be merry. I’ll be chatting to each and every one of you before the night is over. So without
further ado, I’ll leave you to it.’

  There is applause and I watch enraptured as he mingles with the guests crowding around him.

  ‘Party has got off to a good start for old Ark hasn’t it? He’s a natural charmer, I’ll give him that.’

  I’d forgotten Sam Lockwood.

  ‘At least he isn’t corrupt in business,’ I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

  ‘Ha, now that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all year,’ he says, his eyes twinkling.

  ‘I hope you enjoy your raspberries,’ I say. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I see someone I know.’ Like the loo. Let’s face it I’m getting to know that very intimately.

  ‘Maybe I’ll see you for a dance later?’ he grins. ‘After all, we’ve been told to dance, and be merry.’

  I give a nod and make my way to the loo. The bloody Jimmy Choos are feeling more and more like stilts with each glass of wine. I must keep count of how much I’m drinking. There are waiters with trays of wine, champagne and Buck’s Fizz everywhere I look. Of course they are also carrying trays of water but I don’t somehow think I’m going to get through this on water.

  ‘I hope you’ve had plenty to eat Miss Brown. You need to stay fit and healthy.’ Ark says, appearing from nowhere and blocking my path to the loo.

  ‘You don’t seem to be eating very much,’ he smiles.

  My breath quickens.

  ‘He’s a fast worker,’ whispers my inner goddess. I reckon those nipple clamps and hot wax will be out before you can say sex addiction. ‘He’s preparing you. I’d stuff a few more of those oysters down your throat if I were you but that’s just my opinion.’

  My subconscious shivers.

  ‘I hope you’ll save a dance for me this evening. Meanwhile eat. There’s plenty.’

  With a heart-stopping smile he moves on to greet his other guests. Flushing from head to toe I continue to the loo passing the cloakroom as I do so. I freeze, and take a sharp intake of breath. Hanging on one of the racks is a Where’s Wally scarf, identical to the one the murderer was wearing.