by Lulu Taylor
Chapter 51
Colette’s
November 2009
THIS MIGHT BE the best Martini I ever tasted, Mitch thought as he sat at the bar in Colette’s. The rotund barman in the dove-grey jacket had mixed it for him in a few seconds and yet it was sublime. It’s got to be up there, anyway.
He looked around discreetly at the comfortable room behind him; the line of racing prints on the wall above the well-polished bar. He’d come here twice over the last year, visiting under his pseudonym, wearing unremarkable suits and dark glasses and keeping a low profile. It had taken a few pulled strings and favours called in, but he had managed to get a membership arranged, that meant he could scout out this, the glittering prize of London’s nightclubs, and he’d loved it immediately and passionately. He wanted it to be his, he hungered for it. He would have it, he’d promised himself that. And he would do anything it took to get it. I have a few tricks up my sleeve after all, he thought wryly. I just hope no one recognises me.
A beautiful girl came striding towards him, elegant in a black cocktail dress and towering heels. Her golden hair fell about her face in a long bob and she had striking dark blue eyes and red-glossed lips. A real looker, Mitch thought. You can see the breeding, I guess. I’ve not seen cheekbones like those for a while.
‘Mr Mitchell?’ Her voice was cool, in that clipped, drawling and very sexy British upper-class accent. ‘I’m Allegra. How do you do?’
‘Lady Allegra.’ He smiled at her, took her outstretched hand and bowed over it. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ When he looked up again, she was smiling with a touch of amusement at his old-fashioned courtesy.
‘Plain Allegra is fine, thanks.’ She noted his glass. ‘You have a drink, I see. Shall we sit here or would you like to go straight through for dinner?’
‘Let’s go through. And you can call me Ted, by the way.’
She inclined her head in a half nod, and then led him to the dining room. There was a mildly anxious moment as the maître d’ scrutinised him as they passed, and Mitch thought he caught the faintest flicker of a frown, but nothing was said.
When they’d settled at one of the tables, Allegra said, ‘You’re not at all what I expected.’
‘Oh?’ He gave her his most charming smile.
She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘I thought you’d be older. A man with your business portfolio.’
‘I guess I’m a bit of a prodigy,’ he drawled in his best cornfed American Boy accent. ‘Let’s get our order out of the way, Allegra, and then we can talk.’
When the waiter had taken it, Mitch glanced around the room, admiring the cunning use of space which maximised the number of tables and the opulence of the decor which was luxurious without being gaudy or cluttered. ‘This is everything I’d hoped, I must say. The atmosphere here is something special. Why should that be?’
‘It’s thanks to my Uncle David,’ Allegra said with a smile that showed her perfect teeth and heightened her beauty. ‘His personality and taste are stamped everywhere. That’s why this nightclub has something nowhere else can match. They might attempt to define luxury but something will always let them down – there’ll always be something mediocre about the spirit of the place. Here, you can never be let down.’
Mitch nodded. She had put her finger on it. It sounded easy and yet he knew from experience how difficult it was to achieve and easy to lose. ‘I see that.’
‘Your wine, sir.’ The waiter produced the bottle of Château Mouton Rothschild 1996 that Mitch had ordered.
‘Your list here is superb,’ he said in heartfelt appreciation when the wine had been tasted, approved and poured out. ‘Some of the best wines in the world are on that list.’
‘We’ve been collecting for forty years,’ Allegra explained. As their food arrived, she told him about the sommelier at Colette’s who was the son of the original sommelier David had hired back when the club first opened. ‘That tells you more about this place than I ever could. It’s a family concern. Even the staff pass their jobs down.’
‘Are you quietly telling me to get lost?’ Mitch said with a smile.
‘It depends.’ Allegra took a sip from her glass. ‘Are you asking me anything I need to say get lost to?’
He laughed. ‘You assume I’m about to tell you that I want to buy Colette’s, right?’
She raised an eyebrow. God, she’s a cool customer. He appreciated that self-possession and confidence, though. They made Allegra formidable despite her relative youth. I could use someone like her. I could harness that ambition. ‘What else am I supposed to think?’ she asked him. ‘You have a reputation for buying up the most exclusive places in London.’
‘Not just London,’ he said, with a shrug. He took another sip of the blackberry-rich wine. ‘Across the world. I’m investing heavily in Monte Carlo at the moment, and I’ve bought stakes in the most luxurious hotels in Dubai.’ He told her about the extraordinary amounts of money and the eye-widening glitz of the seven-star hotels there as they finished their starters and the main courses arrived.
Allegra listened with interest and then said, ‘But is it wise to invest in Dubai? I’ve heard things are going very flat there. The property market has ground to a halt and the luxury market is apparently suffering from its worst downturn in many years with the current financial climate.’
‘It doesn’t seem to be bothering you,’ Mitch said with a smile. ‘You’re expanding, aren’t you? I’ve heard great things about Oscar’s. Everyone is clamouring to join. You must be doing well.’
She nodded, her golden hair shimmering in the candlelight. ‘I believe our brand is solid enough to weather any recession. People will always want to come here. We don’t depend on silly money. Just real money.’
‘But you’ve borrowed a lot. You’re very exposed.’
‘We can easily keep up repayments on our loans. Our parent company is in good health and the assets remain strong. We’ve got a couple of million sitting in our wine cellar, as it happens. More on the walls of the clubs. David’s eye for art and furniture has always been superb and those markets will remain strong in the downturn because interest rates are so low. People are looking to invest in solid assets at the moment.’
‘You’re right. And I happen to believe that there will always be millionaires who want to show how big their dicks are by throwing their cash around.’ Mitch was impressed, both by her acumen and her positive approach. It was refreshing at a time when so many business people were full of gloom and negativity.
When their main courses arrived, Allegra said, ‘You’re a player, that’s for sure. I’ve seen some of your recent acquisitions. You’re spending money at a time when hardly anyone else is.’ She leant across the table and fixed her blue eyes on him. ‘Where does your cash come from?’
He burst out laughing, amused by her chutzpah. ‘Very few people dare to ask me that! They all wonder, but no one says it. OK … the truth is, I have a kind of godfather figure in America who is also my backer. He has great faith in me and likes the way I think, the way I operate. He also likes the percentage I return on his investments.’
‘A godfather?’ Allegra smiled. ‘I see. How handy.’
‘I started in Paris, but in the end decided I didn’t like it all that much. So I came to London, and realised that here were the places I found the most alluring. I love the old world heritage, the sense of privilege – and anyone can have that if it’s on offer in a restaurant. Anyone can be included, if they want to be and if they work hard enough. That appeals to me.’
Allegra nodded slowly and took another bite of her salad of monkfish tails and bacon. ‘I see.’
He tried his fillet steak. ‘This is good. Seriously.’
‘Why don’t you get to the point, Mr Mitchell?’
He coughed lightly. ‘Would you mind if we wait till coffee? Only, I’m really enjoying myself here, and I don’t want you to throw me out before dessert.’
‘That bad, is it?’ Allegra laughed.
‘I don’t think so. But you might.’
Over pudding, he said, ‘It won’t surprise you to learn that I want to buy Colette’s, along with Oscar’s and Astor House.’ He smiled winningly. ‘I love them all. They showcase great talent. You’ve clearly inherited whatever it is your uncle has. And I want them. It needn’t be the end of your association with them. You could come and work for me.’
‘I’m terribly sorry, Mr Mitchell, but you can’t have them – or me,’ Allegra said smoothly. ‘Now, we both knew I was going to say that, so it can’t have come as a surprise.’
He continued smiling good-humouredly. ‘You’re right. It hasn’t.’ He took a scoop of the dark chocolate and ginger ice cream and let it melt across his tongue. ‘Oh, wow. That’s great. An epic dessert. I heard it was famous in London, and I’m not surprised. Boy, I would love to own that ice cream!’
‘Consider the whole bowl a present,’ she retorted.
He laughed, tickled by her spirit. ‘Thanks, ma’am. I will. But what I really want to know is whether you can ever imagine selling your group in the future?’
‘No.’ Allegra remained emphatic. ‘It’s not only that I would never hear of it. My uncle would rather die than let anyone else own his beloved Colette’s. And he has the final say.’
‘Does he? I guess that’s blown my plans out of the water, huh?’
The girl pulled a helpless expression. ‘I’m afraid so.’
‘But no hard feelings, huh?’
‘Certainly. None on my part.’
‘I’ve had a wonderful dinner with a beautiful dining companion, so I have no complaints.’ Mitch raised his glass to her. ‘Your very good health, my lady.’
Allegra raised hers back. ‘Yours too, Mr Mitchell.’
He watched her as she drank, thinking, Unfortunately, my lady, this is one battle you are going to lose.
Chapter 52
La Belle Dame
ROMILY CAME UP on deck and looked out over the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean. It was still early-autumn but the weather was gorgeous, almost warm enough to sunbathe – certainly warm enough for her to wear her very pretty Bottega Veneta jersey dress in honey-coloured silk. Her shoulders and upper arms peeked through the slit sleeves, and her huge sunglasses protected her from the glare of the sun off the sea.
‘Would you like something, madam?’ asked one of the stewards with a bow.
‘Yes, some water, please,’ she replied. ‘And a black coffee. Strong.’
She walked along the lower deck to the seating area at the stern and leant against the railings for a while, watching the rippling waves that followed in their wake.
I should enjoy this. It could be my last bit of solitude for a while.
Once she got to Chrypkos, she would be surrounded by family. But it was time to go back. Her mother had sounded so anxious to see her, and when she had offered to send the yacht to meet her in Naples after a shopping trip in Rome, Romily had decided to accept. She’d been working very hard and it was almost time to return to London anyway.
It’s nearly time to start making things happen. Everything is almost in place.
The small motorboat moored at the jetty on Chrypkos and she disembarked, pulling on a broad-brimmed white hat and leaving her luggage to be brought on after her. Rocco, her guard, would follow later. His duties were less onerous now that she was on the island – not only was there already excellent security provision here but no one could land on Chrypkos without the family’s permission. It had always been the place where they felt the safest. A small white jeep was waiting to drive her the half-mile or so to the main house. It had been a while since she’d been on the island and she’d forgotten how beautiful and peaceful it was, covered in woodland and olive trees, with several white, flat-roofed houses hidden about the groves. The main house dominated the south side of the island. Near it were a handful of smaller lodges for guests to stay in, and a private chapel.
A moment later the jeep pulled up in front of a two-storey white villa built in traditional Greek style. It looked simple enough from the outside but inside it was supremely comfortable and spacious, expanding into two wings that encompassed a vast garden and swimming pool.
Athina de Lisle came rushing out to envelop her daughter in a great hug. ‘My darling, you’re here! We’re so happy … so happy! Come with me.’
They went through to a large sitting room. It was full of ancient Greek artefacts – beautiful urns, statuary, plates in terracotta and black – decorated with pictures of the gods. They had been collected by Isabelle’s father, a Greek shipping billionaire with a passion for his country’s cultural heritage. His accumulation of ancient treasures was second only to the world’s best museums. This house was a showcase for his collection and as such was dressed very simply, with terracotta floors, elegant but plain furniture, white linen and muted blue fabrics, so that the splendour of, say, the kouros, a statue of a boy carved in 530 BC that stood in the wide entrance hall, might be appreciated in all its glory.
Athina de Lisle summoned drinks with a wave of her hand, and sat down next to Romily.
‘You look well,’ she said. ‘And that dress is beautiful. Only you youngsters can carry off such unstructured pieces. I’m confined to tailoring for the rest of my life, so enjoy it while you can, darling. How was the trip?’
‘Very good.’
‘Did you see your papa had La Belle Dame redecorated? Dear Nicky did it – he’s made it delightful, hasn’t he? I love my new marble bathroom.’
‘I hadn’t noticed …’
‘Well, you haven’t been aboard for a long time. I think we should take a trip this summer, just the two of us. We’ve got so much to catch up on.’ She reached out and took her daughter’s hand, stroking it fondly. ‘Oh, did I say? I’ve invited Gabriella Viney for next week with her two sons. The older one is at business school in America but is going to be running the family company in no time. Apparently he’s a wonderful young man. You must meet him.’
‘Next week?’ Romily looked regretful. ‘I’m leaving before then, I’m afraid.’
‘Leaving? But why?’ cried her mother, dismayed. ‘I thought you were staying here the whole month with us?’
‘No. I’m going to London.’
‘For a party?’
‘No. I haven’t been there for a long while and I have business there.’
‘What kind of business? I don’t understand how you can have business! What business?’
‘Things I must do, that’s all,’ Romily said vaguely. ‘Small projects. You wouldn’t be interested at the moment, but I’ll tell you all about it when the time comes.’
‘And this is why you must go to London?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid so.’ Romily stood up. ‘But now, Mama, I’m going for a swim. I really must stretch a little and get some exercise.’ She left her mother gazing mutely after her.
She must know that she’s powerless to stop me now. I’m not a little girl to be ordered about any longer. I intend to live exactly as I want from now on.
The mood in the house was upbeat. Romily’s parents were glad to have her with them for however short a time and Louis was there too, back from his job in Los Angeles where he was making his first bid to be a film producer by staking some of the family money on projects that he liked. They enjoyed a happy family dinner together, dining on the traditional Greek food they all loved so much: grilled lamb shish kebabs, roasted peppers and courgettes in fragrant spicy olive oil, and marinated barbecued baby octopus. Afterwards they ate rich honey baklava and drank strong sweet coffee, and talked about the old days on Chrypkos when the children had been small and the holidays endless.
Later, in her room, Romily changed into her silk camisole and knickers to sleep, then sat on her bed and made a call on her phone.
‘It’s all arranged,’ she said when the call was answered. ‘I’m coming to London. Papa has said I can use the plane – it’s at Athens airport at the moment. A helicopter will co
me for me the day after tomorrow to take me there. But I don’t want to stay at the family house in London, it’s too ostentatious. So I need you to find me somewhere else.’
She listened to what the person on the other end of the line said and then laughed. ‘Wouldn’t that be funny? Well, we’ll see. Perhaps I’ll find time to dine somewhere special.’
She listened again and then said, ‘That will be fine. I’ll leave all the arrangements to you. I’ll see you in London. Yes, I’m looking forward to it too.’ She clicked the phone off and gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling, thinking over her plans for the future.
The next day she took a long walk around the island with her brother, relishing the peace and quiet and her freedom. She wondered if she’d made the right decision, leaving Chrypkos so soon. It was so lovely not to be tailed by guards wherever she went. But she had made her plans and it was important that she be on the spot from now on. Things were promising to hot up nicely over the next few weeks and she wanted to be able to witness it all close up.
When she got back to the house, she summoned her guard, Rocco to see her in the drawing room.
‘We’re leaving for England tomorrow,’ she said, ‘so please prepare whatever’s necessary. The helicopter will take us off the island at three p.m.’
He looked annoyed, a frown on his broad face. ‘Very well, signora. But it would help if you would give me more advance notice of your plans.’
‘Why?’ Romily raised her eyebrows at him.