TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) (41 page)

“By ‘intercept’ you mean steal?”

“Yes. Steal.”

“How will they do that?”

“How the fuck do I know?”

“Don’t you want to? Will anyone get hurt?”

He sighs for the last time. “Look, Elise, I haven’t a clue how it will go down. All I know is that your

Mr. Stone will take the rap and be out of service for a couple of days. He’ll have some fancy lawyer

say it wasn’t his fault and he didn’t know how sensitive the consignment was and maybe, just maybe,

he’ll be released. If not, you’ll get what you wanted. He’ll be thrown into jail and there he’ll be, sitting

pretty until some fat guy called Frank with a hard on comes to pay him a visit. Anything else I can

help you with?”

“No.” She picks up her phone and presses several more buttons. Throws it in her bag and looks to

Dan. “All done. Your round, I think.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, Miss Richards.” He stands and collects their glasses. “Can I get you a

packet of nuts to have with your drink?”

She sniggers. “No, thanks. But a whiskey chaser would be nice.”

The eleven hour flight to Vegas was unremarkable. Ayden explained how Jake was using the

company jet for business and how we could make the most of flying commercial with B.A., although

there was nothing commercial about our flight. It was first class all the way!

There were only two minor occurrences. I noticed Ayden wasn’t wearing his platinum ring. It had

become scratched somehow and he was having it polished. When I linked my fingers into his, his left

hand felt weightless and the patch of smooth skin on his middle finger resembled a cream coloured

wedding band, or it would have if it had been on the finger next to it. I stroked the naked skin with my

forefinger. It had been almost fifteen years since that part of his body had seen the light of day.

Forty minutes before landing Ayden had to take a call which, by the look on his face, surprised the

hell out of him. I looked on as he stared into the screen, frantically finger punching. With the event

over, he massaged his chin for a further minute and normal behaviour resumed.

As the limousine pulls into the enormous foyer I’m stunned into silence. Outside there was an

enormous monolithic screen with artwork on it, dancing and merging to a silent beat. I had to tip my

head back to see it. The only fixed images were two words in bold capitals: THE COSMOPOLITAN.

Now, beneath the glistening tower of blue glass and steel, I am surrounded by bell boys and baggage.

“Come on Beth, let’s get checked in. This won’t take long.”

I watch Ayden climb confidently out of the spacious car and I do the same on my side, blinking,

adjusting my eyes to the bright fluorescent lights.

With Ayden’s arm around my waist, we make our way inside to the foyer but rather than following

the crowd, he walks us over to an uninhabited spot, to the sign that says VIP. I learnt early on in our

relationship, Ayden Stone doesn’t queue for anything.

A dark haired woman of around 25 bounds over and is quick to sense his impatience.

“Stone three nights, the Bellagio Penthouse.” It’s a straightforward declaration.

“Ah, yes. Mr. Stone. How nice of you to join us here at The Cosmopolitan. I will get a member of

staff to take you to your room. Please give me a moment.”

Turning from him I cast a greenhorn’s eye over the check-in area. People are milling around but

there’s little hassle. Eight oversized, red check-in desks are arranged in a row and friendly staff are

welcoming excited guests to the hotel. A teenage girl holds my attention. Sensing my gaze, she turns

and our eyes lock. She grins and gives me a smile that says, “Isn’t this awesome?” and I give her one

back in return. It’s just so outrageously modern and chic.

“Thank you.” Ayden’s voice takes my mind away from animated artwork flashing and merging

across the eight enormous pillars of light.

From the corridor we enter the vestibule and make our way into a sumptuous lounge, beautifully

furnished in dark wood, art work on every wall, objet d’art and elegant accessories the likes I have not

seen since Rome.

I pirouette, taking it all in and edge over to the enormous wraparound terrace. I hear the helpful

young man giving Ayden the spiel about switches and facilities, knowing he isn’t listening to a single

word. I make mental notes and step out into the afternoon sunshine, feeling the wind on my face from

21 floors up.

The view is breath taking. It’s a Lego land landscape of hotels and buildings of every shape and

size; an architect’s playground, pure and simple. A couple of familiar landmarks catch my eye: Planet

Hollywood and a spectacular sized down version of the Eiffel Tower.

In a soft whisper that tickles my right ear, Ayden asks, “So … what do you think?”

All I do is huff. “I can’t take it all in. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll let you know.” I lean back,

allowing him to take my weight. Instinctively he enfolds me and I nuzzle my head under his chin.

“You spoil me … “

“Not at all. This is how I live Beth. I always stay here.”

The words rush out of my mouth in a gush. “Why? It’s way too big for one person …”

His lips skate across my hair. “I’ve not always been alone, felt alone but not been alone.”

“Oh.” I find it impossible to supress a giggle. “And there I was thinking you were doing this for

me.”

His chest rattles against my shoulder blades as he contains a chuckle. He’s teasing me something

shameful and I’m happy to play along.

“Now why would I do that Beth? You know I only settle for the very best.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you love me …?”

“Mm … there is always that.”

“And you want me to experience everything with you …”

“This is true”

“So you admit to going all out to impress me then?” I turn around to see the laughter in his eyes.

He pulls back my hair and nips at my ear. “I think I may be willing to concede defeat this one

time.”

“Does that mean I win?”

He laughs at my impudence. “It means you might be right …” He kisses my nose. “Go and have a

wander while I check my messages.”

Following his lead inside, I begin my exploration of this outrageously beautiful suite, beginning

with the guest bathroom and bedroom. No expense has been spared. A narrow corridor opens out into

an enormous bathroom in a cream marble colour, with a shower large enough to accommodate a five-

a-side football team. Alongside is a spacious bedroom with glass doors that open onto the terrace;

centre stage is a four poster bed and in front of it an over-sized TV screen mounted onto the wall, in

which the room is reflected.

I take a tentative step into the next room. Once again everything is super-sized; the L shaped suite

in white leather, the dining table, the kitchen area with gleaming accessories and granite worktops.

How smooth and cold the surfaces feel compared to my warm hands.

Excitedly I stroll to the far end of another corridor and discover it, the piece de resistance, the

master suite: plush, extravagant, sumptuous. It’s all that and more. Acres of bed linen must have been

used to cover the bed. It’s ginormous. Ayden and I will have fun in this bed.

The room is light and airy, and the floor to ceiling glass doors open out onto the terrace. I trot over

to them and pull one ajar, becoming aware of the sound of distant traffic on The Strip and beyond.

I pop my head into the bathroom and lose myself in the side rooms; once again I trace the veins in

the cream marble with my fingers and they come to rest on the counter. Laid out upon it are luxurious

toiletries for him and for her. Nothing has been overlooked.

On the bed is my case. I unzip it quickly and begin arranging my clothes in the wardrobe to the

right. It takes no time at all. Regardless of how much I spread them out, there is still enough room to

accommodate a small car. I close the wardrobe door and prepare to trace my footsteps back to the

lounge.

Ayden is stretched out on the sofa, arms spread wide, jacket tossed onto the arm, tie loose around

his neck. It’s a good look for him.

“There you are. I was beginning to think you’d got lost.” He points to two glasses of wine on the

breakfast bar. “I poured us out a dry white.”

I reach over and pick up the drinks before sitting down next to him, almost losing my balance as I

sink into the soft folds of leather. Our glasses touch but we have no need of a toast.

I let out a satisfied sigh. “Whoever you brought here must have been very impressed,” I state

frankly.

He’s laughing and shaking his head. “I’ve never brought anyone here Beth. I was only teasing. I’ve

only stayed here once before. I had the master and Jake had the guest bedroom. It was strictly

business.”

I hold off on a satisfied grin. “Oh.” The wine is chilled and tastes delicious. It gives me something

to wrap my smiling lips around.

He strokes my hair; it’s a comforting gesture. “It’s late. Even though it’s afternoon here our body

clocks are telling us it’s almost bedtime.” He places down his glass on the coffee table. “Do you want

a light supper … an early night …?”

I see mischief in those azure eyes and watch his mouth lift momentarily at the right side. “I’m not

tired and I’m not hungry.”

“I could order room service later and we could sit out on the terrace bed, and watch the sun go

down. How would that be?”

Only one word comes to mind. “Perfect.”

“I’ll go and change and meet you out there.” He reaches for the vibrating iPhone in his pocket. All

at once he’s lost to me. His eyes are fixed on it. I know that look. It’s his bad news face.

“I won’t be a minute. I’ve got to take this.”

With that he heads out onto the balcony, closing the glass door behind him securely, deliberately.

With one hand on the phone and the other massaging his neck his conversation gets underway. I have

no way of knowing how serious this is or if we will be taking the next flight home. With that in mind I

return to our bedroom, anticipating I will soon be packing.

As I step into the bedroom, I become aware of the open door onto the balcony. I can hear him

speaking. I’m about to turn and walk away but something tells me I need to hear this.

“Yes, I get that. So who knew Jay? Who the fuck had wind of the delivery?”

He waits for Jake’s reply.

“Intercepted? What the fuck! By who?”

A moment’s silence.

“And they’ve got the chips? You’re telling me, I’m here in Vegas with everything planned and a

bunch of fucking extremists are running around with our chips?”

I hold my hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp.

“Tell me this is some kind of fucking joke. This was your baby Jake. I told you to work hand in glove

with the MOD. I told you to make sure it was kept under wraps. Fuck!!”

Realising the magnitude of the disaster, I sit heavily down on the bed, ears pricked for more

information.

“And what about the paperwork? You’ve shown them? Right … and …?
There’s a weighty pause.

“This is bad Jay. They’ll come after me for this. I tell you. You’d better make it right!”

I hear footsteps and sense him coming towards the bedroom. As quickly as my legs will carry me I

head for the door. I’ve heard enough to have grasped the gist of it.

He’s in trouble.

Even though we are in the gambling capital of the world, Ayden was in no mood last night to

shuffle cards or throw dice. We lay out on the terrace bed and watched the lights wink into

wakefulness before exploding into a kaleidoscopic strip of neon illuminations. It was an unforgettable

sight.

We engaged in light-hearted banter about Rome and Charlie’s party. Anything of a serious nature

was left indoors behind shatter proof glass. He had no idea I knew what had happened and I wanted to

keep it that way.

Like two weary souls we made our way to the island that was our bed. I made no attempt to initiate

sex and he seemed too distracted to be able to generate any enthusiasm. Instead, we rolled to the

centre and huddled together, me folding myself into him like a tortoise into its shell. We fell asleep

spooning, or at least
I
fell asleep.

I woke at 4am to find myself alone, lying there like a whale beached on a deserted patch of white

sand. I listened and listened again. Nothing.

With my bathrobe about my shoulders and carelessly wrapped about me, I tip-toed along the

corridor towards the lounge. Still no sound.

I checked the terrace, the guest bedroom, the study. He was not in the suite. I was alone.

The walk back to bed was a sombre one. I didn’t know what to think. I let the bathrobe fall by the

side of the bed, climbed in and waited …

As I peel back weary lids from my eyes, I’m becoming aware of even breathing. Moving in slow

motion I turn over and watch Ayden inhale and exhale at regular intervals. He’s fast asleep. I close my

eyes tight and open them again, as a camera would taking a photograph in macro mode; picking out