True Colours (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2) (23 page)

We’ve almost made it to the centre of the ballroom when the crowd parts, and we’re suddenly standing with Lily.

‘I’m so pleased to see you here, Maya.’

Taking me by the arms, she kisses me on both cheeks.  And even though it’s completely alien to me, I do the same in return.

‘I’m pleased to be here.’

‘You look absolutely stunning in that dress.  What is it?’

I shrug.  ‘A dress?’

‘Which designer?’

I shake my head.  ‘No idea.’

With a knowing smile, she takes a step back and holds out her arms.  ‘Daniel.’

He moves in for a quick embrace and pecks her on the cheek.

‘How are you doing?’ she asks.

‘Never better.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

‘So what’s the plan for tonight?’

‘The usual.  Dinner.  Auction.  Dancing.’  She glances round the room, waves at somebody.  ‘I need you to do a bit of networking.’

He frowns.  ‘What, now?’

‘Yes, now.’  Ignoring Dan’s grimace, she continues.  ‘For a start, you can get your backside over there and sweet talk Wallace.’

She motions towards a corpulent, red-faced man.  In his mid-fifties perhaps, he’s holding court at the centre of a group of women.

‘In a bit.’

‘No, now.  For me.  Please.’  She runs a hand down his arm.  ‘You know you always charm him into making the biggest donation.  And besides, I need a little word with Maya.’

Dan narrows his eyes at Lily.

‘Why?’ he demands.  ‘What little nugget of information are you going to pass on this time?’

‘I’m going to fill her in on all the details of when we were young.’  She smiles archly.  ‘Your obsession with
Star Wars
, your collection of
Care Bears
stickers, that sort of thing.’

‘She’s talking bollocks,’ Dan warns me.

‘Wallace.  Now.’

Swivelling him round, Lily sends him in the general direction of the gathering.  While the women hastily rearrange their cleavages, Wallace thrusts out a hand in greeting.

‘Wallace Ashford,’ Lily explains.  ‘He owns half of Belgravia.  Dan’s done some work for him in the past, cut him some good deals.  He’s had Wallace in his pocket ever since.  You haven’t met rich until you’ve met Wallace.’  She grabs two flutes of champagne from a passing tray, handing one to me.  ‘I’m so glad to see you two back together.’  She takes a sip. ‘You’re good for Dan … and he’s in love with you.’

I take a sip of my own champagne, allowing myself a smug smile.

‘I know.’

‘He told you?’

‘He said the magic words.’

Lily’s perfect little lips form a perfect little circle.  She glances at Dan.  He’s leaning in towards Wallace now, apparently listening to something incredibly interesting.

‘Excellent,’ Lily chirps.  ‘He obviously took Mr Sun’s advice then.’

‘You know about that?’

‘Clive told me.’  She giggles.  Taking another dainty mouthful of champagne, she fixes me with her hazel eyes.  ‘Apparently, you’re getting married.’

‘No, we’re not.’

‘Oh, why not?  You’ve moved in with him.’

‘Living with a man is one thing.  Marrying him is something else.  It’s all going a bit too fast for me.’

‘That’s Dan all over, I’m afraid.  When he decides he wants something, he goes full speed to get it.  If he wants to marry you, I’d say you’re in trouble.’  She giggles again, and I wonder just how many champagnes she’s had so far.  Finally, she manages to calm herself.  ‘You won’t regret it,’ she adds seriously.  ‘I promise you, you’ve got a good one there.’

‘How’s
your
love life?’ I ask, deciding that it’s a good idea to change the conversation.  ‘You were having a little trouble the other week.’

‘Oh that.’  She screws up her perfect little nose.  ‘It’s all finished.  I think I might be leaning back in the male direction.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously.  You know I’m fifty-fifty?’

I nod.

‘I’ve met someone I like.  Hot in bed.’

‘Tell me more.’

She pouts, licks her lips and touches her nose with an index finger.

‘Early days.  Let’s just see how it goes.’  Her eyes widen.  ‘Ooh, Dan’s coming back.  Don’t mention the new guy.  He’ll come over all brotherly and protective.’

She winks at me, just as Dan returns.

‘Having fun?’ Lily asks.

‘No.’  Clearly riled, he grabs a glass of champagne.  ‘That man’s a fucking bore.’

Putting an arm around his neck, Lily lets off a laugh.

‘Daniel, darling, that fucking bore over there donated ten thousand last year.’

‘And he’s just bought a fucking yacht,’ Dan fires back.  ‘Fifteen million on a fucking yacht.  Imagine what you could do with that instead of wafting round the fucking Med.’

‘And you don’t chuck money around?’ Lily demands.

‘No, I don’t.’

‘You just bought yourself a new Jag,’ she reminds him.

‘The Jag’s for Maya.  See that twat.’  He points his glass in Wallace’s direction.  ‘He’s got seven cars.  Seven.  Who needs seven cars?’

‘My God, you’re such a scrooge.’  She pokes him in the chest.  In return, he gives her a good scowl.  ‘I’m going to mingle, darlings.  You ought to do the same.’

While Lily drifts off, glass in hand, Dan curls an arm round my waist and takes in a deep breath.

‘You
do
throw money around.’  I prod him gently.  ‘Remember packing me off to Harrods?’

His eyes lock with mine, and my heartbeat quickens.

‘You needed clothes, Maya, and I wanted to spoil you.  Is that so bad?’

‘And you chartered a helicopter.’

‘Necessity.  There were no seats on any flights.  I had to fuck you.’

‘And what about the Rolls-Royce?  I bet that didn’t come cheap.’

‘Cheaper than buying one.’  He takes a sip of champagne and smiles. ‘Okay, so I do have some perks and I can afford them, but there’s no need to go buying a fucking yacht.’  He waves his glass at Wallace again.  ‘He’s got a Lear jet as well.  Can you believe that?  A fucking Lear jet.’

‘Will you stop swearing?’

‘Fuck it.  Sorry.’  He shrugs.  ‘He just annoys me, that’s all.’

‘So, what do you do with your money?’

He shrugs again.  And now he seems embarrassed.

‘I leave it in the bank.’

‘All of it?’

Refusing to answer, he scans the room.

‘Mr Foster, am I right in thinking that you make donations to charities?’

‘Drop it,’ he growls out of the corner of his mouth.

‘Soft centre.’

‘I said drop it, Scotton.  Now, let’s go and sit down before any more of these well-heeled shitheads try to talk to me.’

Without another word, he grabs my hand and guides me through the maze of tables, stopping at one and then another until he finds our names.  Pulling out a chair for me, he waits until I’m seated and then settles in to my left, draping an arm around my back and moving in close.

‘What are you doing?’ I demand.

‘Making myself comfortable.’

The dress parts at the slit, falling away from my legs.  I’m just trying to rearrange it back into a more modest position when he leans in further.  His left hand lands on my thigh and squeezes, a warning to leave the dress alone.  In a fluster, I stare at the hand, watching as it creeps in towards my crotch.  I look up to find him smiling across the table at a couple.

‘Good to see you, Dan,’ the man exclaims.  ‘How are you?’

‘Very well, thank you,’ he answers, gently coaxing my legs apart.

‘No,’ I breathe.

‘Submission,’ he whispers into my ear.  ‘It’s mine.  Any time.  Anywhere.’

He turns to face me, his nose almost touching mine, and smiles. And oh shit.  He wasn’t joking about the slit thing at all.  In fact, he was deadly serious.  And he’s about to make his move.  The smile broadens as he strokes the nape of my neck.

‘Relax, sweet pea.’

‘You can’t do this here.’

An eyebrow lifts.  ‘Oh yes I can.’  The fingers move further, warm, gentle, probing into the top of my knickers.  He leans in to whisper again.  ‘These things are a bore.  I’m in the mood to lighten it up a bit.’

I’m in a complete tizzy now.  Straining to see past the side of his head, I survey the table, noting that everyone’s engaged in conversation … apart from us.  His fingers brush over my pubic hair.

‘Forget this lot.’

Spreading his hand around the back of my neck, he holds me firmly while he brings his face back to mine.  His eyes sparkle.  Down below, the finger begins to circle against my clit, slowly working me up into a feverish ball of lust.

‘Submission,’ he reminds me.  ‘You have no choice.’

Sealing his lips around mine, he coaxes my mouth open with his tongue, matching the slow, unhurried circling motion of the finger.  As the pressure rises, I groan into his mouth, but the kiss doesn’t end … and neither does the torment between my thighs.  While the noise and chatter of the room seem to drain away, I focus for dear life on the growing warmth in my groin, willing it to ignite quickly, silently hoping that I’ll be able to control the rest of my body when it does.  Minutes drag by in silence and I slip away into oblivion.  I’m right on the edge when his fingers tighten against my neck.  And at last, somewhere deep inside, a spark catches hold, sending a wave of delicious ripples right through me.  Kept in check by the hand, I tremble in his grip as I come.

‘Shit,’ I gasp.

Suddenly back in the room, I’m released.  And immediately, I survey the other guests, nervously checking that our little liaison has gone unnoticed.  Evidently, it hasn’t.  The lady at the opposite side of the table is smiling at me, knowingly.

‘Oh God.’

Rearranging my dress, Dan sits up straight, adjusts his dinner jacket and sucks at his index finger.

‘So, tell us, Dan,’ the woman begins.  ‘What’s the latest news at Fosters?’

Without a care in the world, he leans forwards, elbows on the table, and begins to explain the ins and outs of work on a shopping mall.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and find Lily smiling down at me.

‘That was a show and a half,’ she grins.  ‘What’s got into him, kissing your face off in front of all and sundry?’

Jesus, I hope she didn’t get the full extent of what’s just happened.

‘I’d better buy myself a new hat.’  She winks and disappears back into the crowd.

I take the last mouthful of the starter, a fancy salad that was certainly a few notches up from a prawn cocktail.  I’d like to ask Dan if he enjoyed it, but he’s busy talking to the woman on his left about the Foundation.  I’d like to listen to what he’s got to say, but it’s almost impossible to hear anything above the general din of the room.  Deciding that I’m in need of a little break, I lay down my cutlery and stand up.

‘Where are you going?’ Dan asks, breaking off his chat.

I lean down and whisper into his ear.

‘I need a wee.’

He throws his napkin onto the table.  ‘I’ll come with you.’

‘No you won’t.’

‘But there’s no bodyguard.’

‘And I’m sure I can make it to the toilet and back without an incident.’  I give him my best do-as-you’re-bloody-well-told glare.  ‘Stay here.’

He glances at the main doors.

‘Be quick,’ he warns me.  ‘No mucking about.’

Still wondering what sort of mucking about he thinks women get up to in toilets, I meander through a labyrinth of corridors, stumbling over the Ladies by accident.  An ornate antechamber comes first, followed by a luxurious washroom, and finally the cubicles.  Once I’m locked inside, I set about fiddling with the dress, desperate not to dunk any of the eight thousand eight hundred pounds’ worth of material in the toilet.  Gathering it together at the front, I bunch it around my waist, knowing full well that it’s going to be creased beyond recognition by the time I emerge again.  When I’ve finished, I straighten out the dress as much as possible, open the door, and head for the sinks.  I’m reaching for some high-end liquid soap when someone speaks behind me.

‘Maya.’

I turn quickly, recognising the voice.  I’ve heard it before.  In fact, if I’m not very much mistaken, the last time it spoke to me, it called me ‘sewage mouth.’  Staring into the pompous face of Claudine Thomas, I wrestle with the urge to tell her to fuck off.  But I’m dressed like a lady, and for once I’m determined to behave like one.  Which is more than I can say for her.  Wearing a ridiculously short, green silk dress and impossibly high heels, she looks every inch an escort.

‘How do you know my name?’ I seethe.

Her thin lips fake a smile.  Her eyes glimmer with threat.

‘I’ve done my research.’

‘And what are you doing here?’

Because if Dan sees you, he’s going to go ballistic … and that’s putting it mildly.

‘I paid for a ticket, silly.’  She smiles again.  It makes my stomach curdle.  ‘I’m here with Isaac.  You remember Isaac, don’t you?’

How could I ever forget him?  An overweight, over-the-hill walrus of a man, the owner of a kinky club, and a lecherous pillock to boot.

She sidles forwards.  ‘Did he make you come?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Just now.’  The lips curl up a little further.  ‘At your table.  You weren’t just kissing, were you?’

‘You saw?’

Oh bugger, I really shouldn’t have said that.  I should have feigned innocence.

‘I wasn’t the only one.  Isaac enjoyed it too.  And a few other people, I should think.’

My cheeks flood with embarrassment.

‘Looks like you’re in love.’

‘It’s no business of yours.’

‘Of course not.’

Her cat-like eyes glisten in the light.  I need to get away from this woman, and quickly too.  But before I leave, I need to put her in her place.

‘If you’re here to cause more trouble, you can just forget it.’

‘I never cause trouble.’

‘Oh no?’  I smile back, determined to play this coolly.  Turning to the sink, I squirt a dollop of soap into my hands and lather them up.  ‘So spreading rumours that Dan’s a whip-cracking sadist isn’t causing trouble?’  Watching Claudine in the mirror, I run my hands under the water.

‘He was a whip-cracking sadist with me.’

‘Only because you asked for it.’

‘He enjoyed it.’

‘He didn’t.  Believe me.’  I shake my hands, switch off the tap and reach for a hand towel.

‘You don’t know your boyfriend as well as you think you do.’

‘I know him better than anyone.’

‘He’s keeping plenty of things from you.’

She cocks her head to one side and my body stiffens.  Right now, I’d love nothing more than to knock the wind out of her sails.  I’d love to inform her that she’s telling me nothing new, that I’m working on it, slowly encouraging the secrets out of him one by one.  And I’d certainly love to tell her I don’t need some self-satisfied, red-headed, kinky freak meddling in my business.  But that wouldn’t be wise.  The less said, the better.  And besides, I need to ratchet this up a little and while I’m at it, I’ll put an inevitable end to the ladylike behaviour.

‘Why don’t you just fuck off, Claudine?’

Totally unaffected, her face remains impassive.

‘And why don’t you just ask him about his wife?’

She’s staring at me now, like a child torturing a fly, intrigued by its every reaction, and I’m not entirely sure what she’s picking up on.  All I know is this: I can’t move and I can’t breathe, and the room seems to have melted.

‘Oh, I’m sorry.  Did I shock you?’  She smiles, a Cheshire cat sort of smile, all teeth and lipstick.  ‘You didn’t know about her, did you?’  Tipping her head to one side, she proceeds to drag out the next few words, punctuating them with ridiculously long pauses.  ‘His rich … beautiful … Italian wife?’

Blind-sided, I drop the towel into the sink, steadying myself for a moment against the marble top before I swivel round, lean back and stare straight into Claudine’s smug little face.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘You’re lying.’

‘I’m sorry, Maya.  I’m not.’

‘But how do you …’  I falter, choking on my own words.

‘How do I know?’  She leans in to me.  ‘Isaac,’ she whispers.  ‘Dan might not be too keen on him now, but when he was younger, he used to tell Isaac all sorts of things, especially after a few whiskies.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

Her eyes crease.  Another fake smile.

‘I don’t care.’

With a shrug, she turns on her heels, leaving me in chaos, floundering in a quagmire of confusion.

A wife.

A rich, beautiful Italian wife.

His words replay themselves in my head: ‘I was a mess back then.  It wasn’t a good time.  I’d just rather forget.’

But why, Mr Foster?  Is it because you hurt her?  Or did she break
your
heart?  Is that real reason why you shut yourself off for years on end?  I shake the questions out of my head, wondering why I’m even bothering to sift through the possibilities.  After all, if Claudine Thomas is telling the truth, then I’m living with a big, fat, dirty liar because as far as I can remember, he told me categorically that he’d never been married.  And if he’s lied to me about that, then what else is he holding back?  With a resounding crash, confusion gives way to anger.  He’s reeled me in, and I’ve made it oh so easy for him.

Well, I’m not going to make it easy any more.

‘Hey.’  I look up to find Lily standing in front of me.  ‘Dan sent me to fetch you.  He said that’s enough mucking about.  The main course is being served.’

‘Is it?’

At last, I come back to my senses.

‘I’m just coming.’  Rearranging my hair, I resolve to serve up a main course of my own.

***

I follow Lily back to the ballroom.  As soon as I’m through the door, I catch sight of him, chatting and laughing with our fellow table-mates, totally unaware of the drama that’s about to erupt in his life.  With my heart crashing at my rib cage, I weave my way back through the tables and take my seat.

His arm snakes around my back and I shudder.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asks.  The smile disappears.  ‘Maya?  Talk to me.’

Oh, where to start?

‘Do you think we’re having pizza tonight?’ I ask chirpily.

‘Pizza?  I wouldn’t think so.  This is the Savoy.’

‘How about spaghetti then?’

Withdrawing his arm, he leans back.  ‘What’s come over you?’

I survey the room.  And there she is, Claudine Thomas, standing by a table, chatting to Isaac, glancing over in our direction every now and then.

‘That pair.’  I nod towards her.

I feel him tense.  He’s obviously spotted them.

‘What the fuck are they doing here?’  His eyes are back on me.  ‘Did they speak to you?’

‘I’ve just had a lovely chat with Claudine in the toilets … in between mucking about.’

‘What did she say?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it here.’  I rest a hand on his arm.  ‘I just want to leave.’

‘I can’t go yet.  Lily’s doing an auction.’

‘I’m sure she’ll understand if we say
arrividerci
.’

I smile sweetly.

‘Maya, she wants me here to support her.’

‘Yes, but if you say
ciao, bella
…’

Without warning, he slams a fist on the table.  The conversation around us grinds to a halt.

‘What’s with the Italian?’ he demands.

‘I could ask you the same question.’

‘What are you going on about?’

‘Your Italian wife.’

He hesitates.

‘I have no wife.’

‘And are you sure about that?’

‘Of course I’m sure.  What did she say?’

‘I told you, I don’t want to talk about it here.’

‘And I do.  What did she say?’

‘Ask her yourself.’

Before I can grab at his tux, he’s on his feet, twisting and turning through the tables, making his way towards Isaac and Claudine.  I watch as he grabs Claudine by the arm, as Isaac reaches out to stop him.  There’s about to be a scene, and I don’t particularly want to witness it.  I need to get away from this place, and I need to get away from Dan.  Rising to my feet, I focus on the exit.

And then I run.

Within seconds, I’m out of the ballroom, tottering back down the incline and out through the revolving doors.  Removing the high heels, I dodge a passing Ferrari, head to the left and skirt round the edge of the park.  I’m quickly onto the embankment, crossing the road and setting off towards the Golden Jubilee Bridge, but it’s not that easy making a getaway in a full-length evening gown.  Before I’m even half way there, I run out of steam, coming to a halt by Cleopatra’s Needle, as good a place as any to hide out for a while.  Stumbling down the steps onto a stone observation deck, I lean against a wall, catching my breath as I look down at the dark, sleek waters of The Thames.  After a while, I raise my head and take in the view: Waterloo Bridge to the left; and to the right, a skyline dominated by the Eye.  Illuminated now against the night, it’s still rotating slowly.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’

I turn quickly, and then I’m frozen to the spot.

Ian Boyd is standing right behind me.

‘How did you …’

He takes a step forwards, his face silhouetted against a street light.

‘What’s the matter?  Have we fallen out with Mr Swanky Pants?  Where is he?’  He makes a theatrical show of looking around, and then he shrugs.  ‘Oh, he’s not here.’  He pauses, and I’m pretty sure he’s smiling.  I catch a flash of teeth in the shadows.  ‘Nowhere to be seen,’ he goes on.  ‘And where’s your Neanderthal of a bodyguard?’

Not here.  Neither of them are here.  I’m totally alone, totally unprotected.  A strange, cold sensation oozes through my veins, like lead.

‘Leave me alone.’  My voice sounds timid, pathetic.

‘There’s nobody to rescue you.’

‘Oh fuck off, Ian.’

‘Still swearing.  You know, I never liked that about you.  But I suppose a woman can change.’

Not this woman.  This woman is never going to change.

‘I’m not interested.  I never will be.  Get that into your head.’

‘And get this into your head,’ he shoots back.  ‘I never give up.’

He takes another step.  Close now, he reaches out, runs a finger down the side of my face.  I flinch.

‘There’ll be no secrets with me, Maya.’

The sounds of London ebb away.  There’s nothing now.  No traffic.  No sirens.  No shouts.  Apart from Boyd’s voice and my own heartbeat raging in my chest, I can hear nothing.

‘You can’t trust a man like that.  A man who keeps secrets.’

My mouth falls open, and he smiles.

‘It’s easy enough to dig up the dirt, you know.  And where Mr Swanky Pants is concerned, I’ve found it by the shovelful.’

Desperately, I will my brain to kick into gear, my mouth to function.  At last, I hear the words come spilling out into the dark.

‘Don’t waste your breath.  I already know it all.’

Boyd smiles.  He’s clearly about to waste his breath anyway.