Do Not Disturb

by Bagshawe, Tilly

  Just as he was doing so, the phone rang.

  “Tisch,” he answered, brusquely.

  “Anton, I’m sorry to disturb you,” came the whining voice on the other end. “It’s Jordy here.”

  Jordy McKenzie was the new editor of the New York Post. A former gossip columnist, he’d first crossed paths with Anton years ago when, desperate to make rent, he’d accepted a bribe not to run a negative story about one of his political friends. It was a mistake Anton had never let him forget.

  When he decided to leak the story of Honor Palmer’s affair with Devon Carter, it was Jordy Anton he turned to. Partly because he knew he’d be too scared to refuse, and partly because a New York paper was the natural place for a piece about Hamptons gossip. Having the Post lead the story would also add credibility to the idea that Lucas was behind the leak, as they’d covered a number of Herrick-related tidbits in the past, so he would be assumed to have a relationship with Jordy.

  Anton had been casting around for a while for a way to get rid of Lucas—ever since the boy had started taking sole credit for the Herrick’s success and mouthing off in interviews as if he owned the place. He could simply have sacked him, of course, but that would have been too easy, not to mention lacking in all the elements of revenge that Anton found fun. Teaching Lucas a real lesson required something more…imaginative. Ironically it was Lucas himself who’d finally drawn Anton’s attention to his Achilles’ heel, by pleading with him not to spill the beans about Honor and Devon. He had in fact forgotten all about their suspected affair, but now set about gathering hard evidence of Lucas’s suspicions with a firm of top-notch New Jersey PIs. Now he was at last ready to break the story that would not only shatter Honor’s reputation at a crucial point in the year—by making her and her family synonymous with Palmers and its revival, she’d ensured that any negative personal publicity would have a huge effect on the hotel’s image—but would also create the perfect excuse to fire Lucas by outing him publicly as the mole behind it.

  “Listen, Anton,” said Jordy, doing his best to sound firm. “I’ve been having second thoughts about this. Tina Palmer’s a well-known name, but her sister? Outside the Hamptons, Honor Palmer’s nobody very much. Who cares if she’s banging some married guy?”

  “I do,” said Anton coldly. “So will Palmers’ clients, and the entire US hotel industry.”

  “So run it in an industry paper,” said Jordy. “This isn’t news.”

  “I’ve told you,” said Anton, his voice rising. “That’s not good enough. I don’t want her compromised, I want her ruined. It has to be the Post.”

  While he spoke, the plasma screen in front of him flickered into life as the video at last began to play. Glancing up, his eyes widened. The quality and clarity of the images was extraordinary. It took a lot to shock Anton, but this tape had almost done it.

  “Look, Jordy,” he said soothingly. He must be careful not to be all stick and no carrot. It wouldn’t do to alienate a now powerful editor completely. “Something else is about to break that will make this story very newsworthy indeed.”

  The editor sighed. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that you might tell me what that something is?”

  “I can’t—yet,” said Anton. “You’re going to have to trust me and run with what you’ve got for now. But you won’t regret it.”

  The flip side of this promise—the threat that if he didn’t run the story, he would regret it—hung on the line between them like a cloud. In the end, with no realistic choice, Jordy reluctantly agreed.

  “I can’t run it for at least a week,” he said petulantly. “And if something really big comes up in the meantime, I may have to push it back further.” He had no idea what this poor Palmer girl had done to upset Anton Tisch so badly. But she was soon going to regret it, whatever it was.

  “Of course,” said Anton, happy to be conciliatory now that he’d gotten his way. “I leave that up to you.”

  Settling himself down on his antique Chesterfield couch, he lay back to enjoy the rest of the show, confident in the knowledge that, in a matter of days, millions of eager Internet users would be doing exactly the same thing.

  “I thought you said it was gonna be a quiet barbecue. Just a few friends, remember?”

  Ben stared in dismay at the champagne-swilling hordes, crowded onto the Herrick’s private beach like sardines. He barely recognized any of them.

  “I lied.” Lucas grinned. “You didn’t seriously think I’d send you back to rainy old London without a proper send-off?”

  As usual, Lucas had put together a spectacular party in record time. Admittedly, nature had provided an ideal setting. The sun, which was just beginning to set, glowed the rich red of theater curtains, its light just soft enough to allow the outdoor candles and shimmering crystal champagne flutes to dance and sparkle like so many fireflies. But the music (six barefoot flautists dressed as nymphs), food (mouthwatering sashimi and miniature, individually garnished blueberry cream pies), and dancers (a Hawaiian fire-eating troupe) were all courtesy of Lucas.

  Ben was touched that he’d gone to so much effort. But nothing Lucas had laid on could distract him from Sian. She was luminous tonight, paddling in the surf with Lola, her long gypsy skirt wet at the bottom and her dark hair flying around in the wind like gossamer. He still hadn’t figured out the practicalities of how to keep the relationship going after tomorrow. Long-distance romance was a killer, he knew that, but he was determined to make it work. The alternative—walking away and letting her go—was as impossible to him now as stopping breathing.

  “I tell you what, mate,” he said to Lucas, unable to tear his eyes off the girls as they splashed each other and giggled in the water like the teenagers they were. “We are both seriously lucky.”

  “Hmm.” Lucas sounded bored.

  “What’s the score with you and Lola, then?” asked Ben. “Are you gonna keep seeing her after she goes back to Boston?”

  Lucas gave him a questioning look. “Of course not,” he said bluntly. “How could I? She’s going back to school, and I’m going back to work. It was only a summer romance, you know. I don’t know why everyone’s so keen to marry us off.”

  Ben shrugged. “Fair enough. I suppose I’m so happy with Sian, I want everyone else to have what we have. You know what I mean?”

  Lucas cleared his throat. “About that,” he said. “Are you quite sure…how can I put this? Are you sure you have what you think you have?”

  Ben sighed. He was starting to get seriously tired of Lucas’s negativity on this subject. “Don’t you ever stop? I love her, all right? And she loves me. Be happy for me.”

  Lucas looked pained. “I would,” he said. “If I really believed that, I would be happy for you. But I heard something else today…”

  “What?” said Ben, biting back his anger. He didn’t want to fall out with Lucas tonight, after all the trouble he’d gone to. “What did you hear?”

  “Lola told me that Sian had a bet. With a girlfriend from back home.”

  “So?”

  “Apparently,” Lucas took a deep breath, “she bet this friend a hundred bucks that she’d land herself a rich man out here before the end of the season.”

  “That’s bullshit,” said Ben, his face draining of color. “Sian would never do a thing like that. She doesn’t have a materialistic bone in her body.”

  “OK.” Lucas held out his hands in innocence. “If you say so.”

  “I do say so,” said Ben crossly. “You don’t know her.”

  “Do you?” asked Lucas. “You only met the girl two weeks ago. What do you really know about her? Look, I’m sorry,” he added, sensing he’d already ruined his friend’s evening. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “Crap,” said Ben bitterly. “You just can’t stand it that for once I’m the guy who’s happy with a terrific woman, while you’re still…”

  “What?” Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “I’m still what?”

  “Lost,” snap
ped Ben. “Lost, lonely, and fucking insecure, all right?”

  To be honest he didn’t really know what he was saying. He simply wanted to lash out at Lucas. To pay him back for what he’d said, for trying to make him doubt the best thing that had happened to him since…well, ever, really.

  “If you don’t believe me,” said Lucas angrily, “ask her yourself.” And with that he stalked off, but not before adding under his breath: “Of course, she’ll probably lie to you.” He knew he was being spiteful and childish. But Ben’s last comment had really ticked him off. Lost, indeed! He wasn’t lost. He knew exactly where he was going. Unlike some people he could mention.

  Sian, meanwhile, was happily oblivious to the unfolding drama. Chasing Lola up and down the surf, she was hampered by her now completely drenched skirt, which clung to her legs like shrink-wrap as she tried to splash water over her friend’s way-too-perfectly blow-dried hair. She’d promised Ben to try to enjoy tonight, and it was a promise she meant to stick by.

  “You look like a news anchor!” she yelled into the waves. “Come back here! You look like Diane freakin’ Sawyer! I’m trying to help you!”

  Lola squealed and started running back toward the beach. Sian made an ill-timed lunge as she came past and lost her footing, collapsing into the water in fits of giggles.

  Wiping the salt water from her eyes and pushing back her dripping hair, she looked up to find Ben standing over her. “Hey, babe. What’s going on?” she spluttered. “Are you having fun?”

  His body loomed in front of the fading sun, so his features were mostly in shadow. It wasn’t until he spoke that she realized something was wrong.

  “Not really,” he said. His voice sounded strangled.

  Struggling unsteadily to her feet—her clothes weighed a ton and the sand beneath her was uneven in the current—Sian put one hand on his arm to steady herself.

  “Ben? What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Am I a bet?” he asked.

  “What?” She looked genuinely baffled. “A bet? What are you talking about?”

  “Did you make a bet with your friend before you came out here? About getting a rich guy to sleep with you?”

  Sian felt her stomach drop to the floor and her heart start pounding. She’d murder Lola. “Who told you that?” she asked warily.

  “Never mind who told me it!” Ben exploded.

  Sian shrank back. She’d never seen him this mad. Never seen him mad at all, come to think of it.

  “Jesus Christ.” Shaking his head angrily, he pushed away her hand. “It’s bloody true, isn’t it?”

  “No!” said Sian. “Well, yes, technically it is true. But it’s not what you think. You seriously believe that’s what you and me have been about? That bet was a joke. It was nothing. Anyway, you’re not that rich, are you?” She tried to make a joke of it. “You’ve got holes in your socks and your business is something to do with hedges. That hardly makes you Bill Gates.”

  But Ben wasn’t listening. He’d already turned away and started storming through the shallows back toward the beach and the rest of the party. Sian tried to run after him, but her skirt dragged her down into the water like concrete with every step.

  “This is crazy!” she yelled after him. “For God’s sake, Ben. You asked me out, remember? It’s not like I made a play for you. Ben!”

  Having made dry land, Ben ran up the beach, brushing past bewildered partygoers, staring into space and muttering like a crazy man.

  “Hey.” Lucas grabbed his arm as he shot past. “Wanna talk about it?” He nodded toward Sian, who was scrambling inelegantly out of the water now, dripping and screaming like something out of a badly made horror film. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

  “Fuck you,” said Ben. He looked so desolate in that moment, Lucas almost felt guilty. But it was better he find out now, before his heart got really trampled on. “Fuck you and fuck your stupid party.”

  By the time Sian reached the spot where they’d been standing, Ben was gone.

  “Where is he?” she panted, turning on Lucas. “What did you say to him?”

  Lola, who’d just caught sight of the commotion, came over to join them. Sian spun around to face her, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “You told Lucas about my bet with Taneesha,” she panted. “It was a joke, for God’s sake.”

  “I know it was,” said Lola vehemently. Now both girls were glaring at Lucas. “I totally told him that. Why? What’s happened?”

  “Your shit-stirring boyfriend here told Ben I was a gold digger,” said Sian. “That’s what happened.” For the first time, she began to feel the cold. Her whole body had started to shudder.

  “Lucas?” Lola looked at him furiously. “Tell me you didn’t.”

  “I’m sorry.” He shrugged, not looking anything of the sort. “Ben’s a friend of mine. I don’t like seeing him being taken advantage of.”

  “For God’s sake. Sian’s not taking advantage of him,” said Lola indignantly. But Sian waved for her to stop.

  “Forget it,” she said. In the last two minutes she’d gone from shock to fear to nausea. But right now all she felt was anger. “If that’s what Ben chooses to think of me, he can shove this relationship up his ass.”

  “But, sweetie, you can explain to him,” said Lola. “Tell him it’s all a big misunderstanding.”

  “No,” said Sian firmly. “Why should I have to explain anything to him?”

  She might not be as beautiful, or as smart or as rich as all the rest of them. But she had her pride. If Ben Slater was going to take the word of an asshole like Lucas over hers, he could take a running jump.

  Peeling off her sodden skirt and T-shirt so she was down to her chocolate-brown string bikini, she bundled the wet clothes under her arm and stormed into the hotel in search of a towel. Lola was about to follow her, but Lucas held her back.

  “Leave it,” he said. “It’s for the best.”

  “The best?” she scowled at him. “How’d you figure that?”

  Catching the flash of anger in her eyes, Lucas felt his dick start to harden. He wished she’d pluck up the courage to challenge him more often. It was no fun dominating someone who never fought back.

  “Let’s go to bed,” he said, pulling her tightly against his chest.

  “What? No!” Lola squealed indignantly. “I don’t want to go to bed with you. You’re a horrible man. How could you do that to poor Sian?”

  But a few seconds later she was melting into his kiss, just as Lucas knew she would—sisterhood was no match for raw desire.

  “Come on,” he said, leading her by the hand. “If it’s meant to be, they’ll sort it out between them. Let’s not let it ruin our night.”

  “Well,” said Lola, weakening as she followed him inside, “OK, but I’m not staying long. I have to go and find Sian and apologize. If I’d known you were gonna do something this dumb, I’d never have told you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Lucas, not listening. “Whatever.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A WEEK LATER, strolling down Main Street with a spring in her step, Honor was lost in her own contented thoughts.

  It was a Sunday morning, bright and clear but markedly cooler than the days preceding it. September seemed to have crept up on East Hampton and dealt a guillotine blow to summer. All at once, the most stressful and yet in many ways most rewarding summer of Honor’s life was over, blown away on the first of the cool fall winds. Tourists had begun oozing out of town like pus from a lanced boil, taking with them their frenetic New York energy, and once again the calmer daily rhythms of the full-time locals reasserted themselves, reclaiming the town along with a smattering of older, wiser vacationers who’d sensibly put off their holidays until after the high-season crush.

  Palmers was still at 95 percent occupancy, a very respectable rate for the time of year, particularly given the effort certain people had gone to to drum them out of town altogether. Honor knew she couldn’t afford to rest on her laurels, bu
t she did allow herself to savor the sensation of relief, and not a little pride, that she’d successfully sailed her tired, rickety ship through such stormy waters. It was a good feeling.

  She hoped her dad was up there somewhere, watching. And that maybe, at long last, he was proud of her too.

  The pressure was lifting in other parts of her life as well. Though she felt guilty admitting it, she was actually relieved to have an enforced break from Devon, who’d flown back to Boston with his family four days ago. They’d had an almighty fight a few weeks ago, after Honor had challenged him about whether or not he still slept with Karis.

  “Of course not,” he’d replied, heartbeat-quick. “Why on earth would you think that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Honor bitterly, her fear and insecurity morphing into anger. “Because your daughter says you do? Because she’s been telling Lucas all about your fucking healthy marital sex life?”

  Devon, who was also fearful—although in his case, it was a fear of being caught out—had fought fire with fire, yelling himself hoarse at Honor for being so “fucking naive” as to listen to Lucas’s poison. “You trust that little Spanish shit’s word over mine?” he roared. “How stupid are you?”

  They’d made up, and afterward made love with more passion than they had in months. But an indefinable tension still hung in the air between them, and for once Honor had been glad to see him go. She still loved him, and of course she trusted him above Lucas; why wouldn’t she? But even so, the prospect of a couple of weeks of peace to sort out her own feelings was a welcome one.