by Lynda Renham
‘Come Roxanne,’ he says softly.
Ooh he’s sounding just like Christian Grey isn’t he? I let him lead me like a lamb to the slaughter. The waiters clear the tables to make space for the dance floor and the guests mingle in the foyer. My eyes meet Sam’s across the crowded room and it really is one of those romantic moments. Our eyes lock and in that instant I realise that Sam Lockwood is the Mr Right I’d dreamt of all my life.
‘Do you like the perfume?’ Ark asks as the band begins to play.
I’m pulled into his arms and swung around the dance floor to the applause of the other guests and I realise we are the only ones dancing. I sway slightly as I lose my balance. I’m giddy enough from the champagne as it is without him whirling me about like a spinning top.
‘A Chanel dress cannot be worn without matching perfume,’ he whispers, twirling me so fast that my head spins.
‘I prefer you didn’t see Sam Lockwood,’ he continues before I have a chance to open my mouth. It’s just as well because I’m not sure much sense would come out of it right now.
‘The night we met at the Fun Palace …’ I begin, trying not to slur my words.
The Master of Ceremonies welcomes everyone to take to the dance floor. I strain to see the woman Sam is dancing with.
‘He hates me being with you,’ Ark smirks. ‘Now he knows what it feels like.’
I have no idea what he’s talking about.
‘He’ll soon learn what it is to lose somebody,’ he says menacingly.
Holy shit, I now think I know what he’s talking about. This sounds like a possible yellow. He leads me out of the hall and down a long corridor. I hope Felix’s bloody GPS is working.
‘I love the yellow décor,’ I say shakily.
‘I think you must be colour blind, or a little drunk,’ he smiles but the smile doesn’t seem to reach his eyes.
‘What about the night of the Fun Palace, Roxanne?’ he asks pulling me into a dimly lit room and closing the door.
Sylvie
‘It’s got to be working,’ I say desperately. ‘Jesus wept Felix, this is not the time for the bloody thing to go wrong.’
‘I know that love. I don’t know why it’s cut out. Could just be lack of signal.’
‘Don’t you have a bloody handbook?’ I ask stupidly. ‘She could be screaming red like no tomorrow for all we know.’
‘I downloaded it you silly mare.’
‘Can we phone her, you know, like a normal person?’ I ask, clicking into her name before he can reply.
‘I wouldn’t call Roxie a normal person,’ he says.
‘Nothing,’ I say, worriedly. ‘It’s not even ringing.’
‘No signal,’ says Felix, trying to feign calmness but I know he’s panicking.
‘What do we do?’ I squeal, my hand itching to tap 999 on my phone.
‘At least we know what she’s wearing, a black dress and Chanel No 5.’
‘That doesn’t comfort me.’
We wait silently but there is nothing. I am about to press ‘9’ when Roxie’s voice crackles on Felix’s phone.
‘Don’t you think we should get back? Your guests will wonder where you are.’
‘Thank God,’ I mumble.
‘Come on,’ mutters Felix. ‘Get him to incriminate himself.’
Chapter Forty-Six
‘Don’t you think we should get back? Your guests will wonder where you are,’ I say, fumbling for the light switch.
Light floods the room and he smiles at me, his eyes glittering. We’re in an office.
‘I’ve seen into your eyes Roxanne,’ he says pushing me against the desk.
Oh my God, I’m so bloody scared that I can’t remember the safe words.
‘When?’ I ask hoarsely.
‘Every time you look at me, I know how you feel. You needn’t feel guilty about Lockwood; he’s getting what he deserves. I keep warning you, he’s bad news.’
‘But that night …’ I begin. ‘The night our eyes met.’
‘Yes,’ he whispers, moving closer to me.
I duck under his arm and back away only to hit the wall. He leans forward and presses his hands on the wall, his eyes meeting mine.
‘You felt it too, didn’t you?’
I’m getting confused. Felt what?
‘Was it you?’ I ask.
He pulls back from me and smiles.
‘And it was always you,’ he says huskily, his hand sliding up the inside of my leg.
He groans and I pray Felix and Sylvie didn’t hear. I put my hand over his.
‘You didn’t fly to Munich that night did you?’
He strokes my hair.
‘What night?’ he laughs.
‘The Fun Palace night, the night of the murder,’ I say with a gulp.
He stops. His lips close to mine. The door bursts open and for a moment I think Sylvie and Felix must have called the police but instead of the riot squad rushing in shouting freeze, put your hands above your head, a slightly drunk woman totters in.
‘Oh, this isn’t the loo,’ she says, making a quick exit.
‘The murder, what murder?’ Ark asks, stroking my hand as he does so. ‘You’re not making sense.’
‘You met my eyes through the telescope.’
‘We looked at the stars on my boat, is that what you mean?’
I shake my head. My brain is getting fuddled. His hand is stroking my throat and I shiver uncontrollably.
‘You didn’t go to Munich that night,’ I repeat.
He sighs.
‘The flight was cancelled, my pilot was taken ill. You know how I hate flying; I won’t let anyone else fly me.’
‘So you went to Clapham instead,’ I say, trying to lead him into a trap.
‘No, I didn’t go back to the Fun Palace.’
Why is this so bloody difficult? It never takes this long in the movies does it?
‘So where did you go?’ I snap irritably.
‘To Fulham, to Maria’s for dinner, she’s here if you want to check with her.’
I stare at him.
‘Maria?’ I repeat.
‘You’ve no need to be jealous of her,’ he whispers, before his lips claim mine.
I can barely think straight. Ark Morgan doesn’t want to kill me. He simply wants to steal me. The door swings open again and he sighs.
‘This isn’t the loo,’ he says irritably, pulling me roughly out of the room and back into the ballroom.
‘Let’s find somewhere more private,’ he says.
I see Max Walters make a beeline towards us and my heart sinks.
‘I know where I’ve seen you,’ he says triumphantly. ‘You’re one of the chambermaids at the Crescent.’
Chapter Forty-Seven
Ever wanted the floor to open up and swallow you? Ark Morgan stares at me as if I’ve got two heads and Max Walters, realising what he’s done, looks mortified.
‘What did you say?’ thunders Ark.
‘Nothing, it was nothing,’ says Max, taking a step back. ‘I think I’m mistaken.’
‘Repeat what you just said,’ Ark barks as the ballroom goes quiet.
‘He said he recognised me as one of the chambermaids at the Crescent Hotel,’ I say.
Well I’m sick and tired of feeling ashamed of being a cleaner. It’s an honest living and I’m a good person. There are a few gasps from the guests. Honestly, you’d think I’d just said I was the hotel’s resident prostitute. The fact is, chambermaid or no chambermaid, Ark Morgan fancied me and quite frankly I’m as good as any of this lot at Ark Morgan’s do. I grab a glass of champagne from a waiter and throw it back. I can hear people mumbling behind me.
‘You’re a chambermaid?’ says Ark with his eyebrows so high that I imagine they could cover his bald patch.
I nod.
‘Do you have a problem with that? If I’m guilty of anything it is for not being totally honest with you, and for that I’m sorry.’
Recognition sparks in his eyes.
‘Christ,’ he mutters. ‘You were in the lift that day. I remember you.’
A waiter approaches him with a tray of drinks. He angrily knocks it out of his hand, sending champagne glasses crashing to the floor.
‘You’re nothing but a deceiving little slut,’ he spits.
I gasp. The deceiving isn’t far wrong but the slut is a bit out of order you have to agree.
‘Whoa, that’s a bit strong,’ says Sam, handing me a tissue. ‘And you’re nothing but a two-faced hypocrite and a deceiving bastard, so you can’t talk. I think you owe the lady an apology.’
Ark either doesn’t see Sam or chooses to ignore him.
‘How dare you spy on me for that wanking Lockwood?’
‘I haven’t been spying on you,’ I say. ‘I happened to like you and I thought you would never look at a chambermaid, and I wasn’t wrong was I?’ I say, feeling my face grow hot.
I can feel all of the guests’ eyes on me.
‘You need to get over your obsession Ark, that I’m forever trying to steal things from you. And I say again, you owe the lady an apology,’ repeats Sam, his tone firmer now.
‘She’s no lady,’ says Ark, his eyes blazing. ‘And you’re an uninvited guest, so you can leave right now.’
‘Neither of us is going anywhere until you apologise to Roxie.’
I think it’s going to be a long night.
‘You’re fired,’ Ark snaps. ‘And I want that dress back.’
He lurches dangerously towards me.
‘Now hang on a minute Morgan. There’s no need for that. She’s done nothing wrong,’ says Sam, putting his hand on Ark’s chest.
‘Take your hands off me,’ Ark roars, slapping Sam’s hand away. ‘Now get out before I have you thrown out.’
Sam grins.
‘You know I’m not leaving until you apologise. And I’m more than happy to take your guys on. Good practice for the championship, unless you’re offering to be my sparring partner.’
I’m half expecting the band to strike up Eye of the Tiger.
‘I wouldn’t waste my energy,’ Ark says finally.
That’s a relief. I’ve seen Sam beat seven bells out of a monster far bigger and meaner than Ark Morgan.
‘That’s a shame. You’ll have to have us thrown out then. Like I said, I’ll only leave after you’ve apologised, and Roxie can’t leave because she came with me.’
‘It’s okay,’ I say, just wanting to get out as fast as possible.
‘It’s not okay,’ says Sam.
He’s so bloody minded. I can see from the expression on his face that he would just love to take Ark outside.
‘I apologise for calling Miss Brown a slut. That was somewhat uncalled for,’ Ark says, his face turning red from the effort of having to say it. ‘I would like the dress back and the perfume.’
I can’t think why. It’s as sweaty as shit.
‘I’m not taking it off here,’ I say.
Sam grins.
‘Aw, now there’s a disappointment,’ he says.
I glare at him.
‘Right, we’ll love and leave you then. Thanks for a great do. Fab food as always and brilliant champagne, company leaves a lot to be desired but hey, you can’t have it all,’ says Sam. ‘We’ll pop the dress in the post.’
He takes my arm and leads me out. We reach the entrance and he turns.
‘Oh, I’m presuming that Roxie does still have her job? We wouldn’t want to do you for unfair dismissal would we? She’ll be there Monday as usual.’
I wish he’d stop talking for me. We finally get outside and the air feels wonderful. I take a deep breath and turn on him.
‘I can speak you know,’ I say.
‘I noticed,’ he grins.
‘You didn’t have to get involved.’
‘I wanted to, and what you saw in him I will never know. All I can say is you have abysmal taste in men.’
‘How dare you.’
‘I just did, and I was quite right that dress doesn’t suit you.’
‘You’re quite rude, do you know that?’
He nods.
‘Of course you could say thank you.’
I scoff.
‘Thank you for what exactly? For dragging the whole thing out longer than needed.’
‘You wanted me to thrash him, you know you did,’ he says arrogantly.
‘I did not.’
‘Just like you want me to kiss you now,’ he says with his irritating grin.
I blush.
‘I do not.’
‘I beg to differ,’ he says huskily as his arms surround me and his hot sensual lips land on mine. I’m in heaven as his tongue explores my mouth with an expertise that Ark Morgan never had. I don’t want it to stop. His hand grips my bottom. I encircle my arms around his neck and return his kiss with fervour. I feel drunk on Sam Lockwood. I moan softly and then I remember. If those two haven’t turned off that bloody wire I’ll kill them.
Chapter Forty-Eight
‘Mr Morgan will see you now,’ says the gorgeous blonde assistant.
If I didn’t know better I’d think this was one of my fantasies. I’ve never been inside Ark Morgan’s office. I’ve fantasised about it, of course. My heart is hammering in my chest and not out of desire but from a sickening feeling in my stomach that Ark is going to sack me. I walk into the office, clutching the dress and perfume.
He has his back to me. He’s facing the window and I’m living the ultimate Fifty Shades fantasy. I cough softly but he doesn’t turn. Oh dear, this doesn’t bode well.
‘I’ve brought the dress and perfume.’
‘They’re yours,’ he says quietly.
‘I can’t take them,’ I say, stepping forward to place them on his desk.
He turns from the window.
‘Because Sam Lockwood says so, is that why?’
I shake my head.
‘I had the dress dry-cleaned,’ I say with a wince.
I couldn’t have handed it back if I hadn’t. I’d sweated buckets that night. I’m not doing much better now to be honest. He looks at them, a pained expression on his face.
‘Won’t you at least keep the perfume?’ he asks, finally meeting my eyes.
‘I really shouldn’t,’ I say, slowly stepping back and knocking over his row of Ark Morgan pencils. God, this is Fifty Shades incarnate.
‘Sorry,’ I say, bending to pick up the damn things, most of which have rolled under his desk.
We stoop down together and I look into his eyes, narrowly missing a head butt.
‘You’re not fired Miss Brown,’ he says softly.
That’s a relief. I’ve got the mortgage on the new flat to pay. He holds out his hand to help me up. I take it cautiously. I bite my lip and almost expect him to say I wish you wouldn’t do that Miss Brown but instead he says,
‘Sam Lockwood always gets the best. Thanks for coming.’
And with that he turns his back on me and faces the window. I take that to be my dismissal and hurry from the office before he changes his mind about my job.
Chapter Forty-Nine
‘Do you think we should wire you?’ Sylvie asks Felix.
He shakes his head emphatically.
‘I don’t want either of you listening in on what I’m up to, thank you very much. Anyway, I wouldn’t trust either of you to do it right.’
‘Ooh go on,’ giggles Sylvie, ‘it will be a laugh.’
‘I would have thought you’d had enough laughs listening in on me,’ I say accusingly.
‘We turned it off at the kiss,’ says Felix defensively. ‘Obviously it took us a while to realise it was a kiss. You could have been drinking out of a bottle for all we knew.’
‘I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you to meet him tonight. It’s not like we’ll be sitting here waiting to hear from you. What if something happens and you need us?’ I say worriedly.
‘I don’t think Hugh Richards is going to throttle me love. After all, I’
m not the one who saw him through the telescope am I?’
‘All the same …’
‘It will be fine,’ says Sylvie, waving a hand airily. ‘He can keep in touch through the That Night group.’
It would be awful if while Sylvie and I are both out enjoying ourselves Felix is being butchered to death. I shudder at the thought.
‘Don’t gay men have some code of honour when it comes to killing their own?’ I ask.
‘I think you’re mixing them up with the Mafia,’ says Sylvie, rolling her eyes. ‘Although how you’ve managed to do that I’ll never know. I’ve yet to see a Mafia homosexual in a Coppola movie.’
Sylvie has become an expert on films since she started seeing Nigel Forrest. Neo-Noir films in particular, whatever they are. From what she tells me they don’t sound like Woody Allen.
‘Anyway, Hugh Richards isn’t the killer,’ says Felix.
‘I have to admit that the guy I saw through the telescope didn’t look very camp,’ I say in agreement.
‘We’re not all Julian Clarys love.’
‘You know what I mean. He looked too manly to be gay. He had a stance about him that I just wouldn’t have thought was gay.’
‘I’m trying so hard not to be offended darling.’
‘Well, it’s not Nigel if that’s what you’re trying to say,’ says Sylvie hotly.
‘He does belong to a gun club,’ I remind her. ‘And he knows someone who lives at Rommel Mansions, plus he has a Starbucks card …’
‘Has being the operative word,’ says Sylvie.
‘He was at the Fun Palace,’ I say.
‘So was Sam Lockwood,’ she argues.
‘But he’s not in a gun club. That on its own is dead suspicious.’
Sylvie is totally convinced that Nigel Forrest isn’t the murderer, although suspicion points to him more than Sam. There is no way a murderer kisses like Sam Lockwood. The memory of his kiss makes me go all weak at the knees. What started off as a horrendous evening ended up being one of the nicest of my life. We’d driven off into the sunset on his Harley Davidson. Okay, more like Clapham and the chippy just around the corner from my flat. All the same, it felt like heaven. I never thought saveloy and chips could taste so good. I guess it depends on who you’re sharing them with. I never want to eat chips off a plate again.