She glares up at him, gives a sulky toss of her head and allows herself to be led away. As she goes she darts an angry glance at me. She snorts through small, finely drawn nostrils.
At the door Darnley turns to Eldon, his voice low like it’s an afterthought. ‘Ditch the camera.’
Instantly his men manhandle the camera out of his brother’s grasp and vanish out of the door after Darnley and his prey.
Eldon looks on, as astonished as the rest of us.
The whole episode takes about three minutes.
Eldon curses as he stares at the space between his hands where the camera was. He looks so comical the students burst out laughing. They think it’s part of the drama and he’s acting the clown. Mercifully the tension shatters and now he sees the funny side too. He grins round at them, an instant hit.
Crisis averted.
I breathe a deep sigh of relief while they break into excited chatter.
‘Wow,
awesome
.’
‘Who was
that?
’
‘Was he part of the play?’
‘
Cool
.’
Winton, my sulky new Romeo, is a petty thief here for help with anger management. He looks shaken, his best lines far upstaged. ‘
What the fuck
?’
The girls are still in shock, mouthing
o-mi-god
to each other like so many dazed goldfish as Darnley’s own special brand of stardust sparkles in his wake.
The diversion is a huge hit but now I’m in shock too.
Darnley
? With a blonde?
Here?
And even worse – the cold hostility of his look and his air of suppressed fury. I fight down my own and force myself to grin. Under the surface, questions bubble up and simmer, festering into rage.
He could have warned me.
‘Don’t mind them,’ I say, airily. ‘They’re on loan from
CSI
.’
My joke causes a new flurry of excitement. As my phone signals I snatch it up.
It’s from Darnley.
Pigtails?
Shit.
Eldon’s holding the class spellbound as he outlines their next shoot so I sneak a chance to text back, alarmed now.
Freaky Friday. We dress down.
The answer flashes up instantly.
The hell you do. Get your lick-able little ass round here straight after.
My stomach shrivels. Every wicked thought I’d suppressed earlier flares up again, fired by guilt.
Pigtails? Pedal-pushers? To a man like him they’re straw thrown at fire. Deep inside it burns in me, too. The pleasures we’ve missed all week now clamour for attention. Nameless, wicked desires prickle my belly with little points of flame.
It also occurs to me the word ‘lick’ has two meanings and I may be in for both.
With an effort I dismiss the class and hurry over to Eldon to thank him. I reassure him I’ll get his camera back in time for his next visit. It takes a while because the students are still crowding round him, wide-eyed now I’ve mentioned a real-live series. Now they think he’s from
CSI
they want his autograph and news of their favourite stars.
Eldon plays along happily, pleased with all the fuss. He even answers some of their questions with his superior insider’s knowledge. I look on fondly, glad he’s seen the funny side.
Meanwhile my thoughts are busy elsewhere, intent on revenge. Darnley may have issues with my outfit but I have issues too –
blonde-related
.
Tonight I have a date with Mr Darnley high-and-mighty Wolfe. I daresay diamond bracelets will be heavily involved, as will any number of dark, thrilling and so far unspecified, possibly unspeakable, activities.
But for now unscripted blondes shoot to the top of my agenda.
The sex can damn well wait.
I walk out of the Academy into the golden afternoon and pull up short. The car Darnley sends for me on Friday evenings is already here. He meant what he said. No chance to go home to the tiny apartment I share with my friend Billy to shower or change, or even squeeze into mini box-pleats and turn the whole thing into a joke.
Darnley’s residence is way out of town, over in leafy Lexington. I’ve shared with Billy on and off since we were students. Billy likes to work close to the centre to reach her office, me ditto the Academy, so I visit Darnley at weekends while Eldon, Darnley’s brother and Billy’s surprising new squeeze, conveniently takes my place in her apartment.
It’s early days but so far it’s working well. Happy families all round.
As the vast car pulls up in the spacious driveway I get out and breathe in quiet, scent-laden air from the lush gardens, a world away from the busy backstreets of Boston or the neighbourhood where I work. It’s peaceful here, with birdsong and the swish of leaves. It’s a calming prelude to what may turn into a weekend of hot sex, blistering arguments or even a new shift in our stormy relationship. Darnley can be difficult when he wants – part of his appeal.
In the light, art-filled spaces of his mansion I’m partway across the gleaming tropical hardwood parquet when something strikes me as out of place. One of the stunning artworks, a massive Lichtenstein and by chance one of my favourites, is tilted at a crazy angle in the hallway. Halfway up the stairs I see a scrap of filmy scarlet lace draped over the banister.
I frown.
What’s going on?
At the top of the stairs, reality shifts. Am I in the wrong house? Walking casually across the spacious entrance hall below me is a female, semi-naked and wet, towelling her hair with the corner of a bath-towel loosely draped round the rest of her. Her bare feet trail wet prints across a precious antique rug specially shipped from China.
Through the open doorway on this floor I can hear a piercingly sweet aria by Mozart so I know he’s here somewhere. But the sight of the woman down there chills my blood.
It’s that blonde.
I stand very still as Darnley appears at the door to his sitting room. He looks casual, lithe, gorgeous
,
like he’s been freshly poured into the soft fabric of his costly tailoring. He could have stepped straight out of a commercial for fabulous, wealthy men. For men like him women wait in line, blondes especially.
At the sight of me he stops short. The blonde is looking up at me, her face furrowed with an unappealing frown. She looks less than pleased I’m here.
The feeling is mutual.
‘You again?’ With a flare of her nostrils she turns on one wet heel and disappears into some room on the left
.
I descend the stairs. One look at Darnley’s beautiful, classical face and I firmly resolve not to allow my eyes to stray downwards over his muscular chest, his powerful thighs and further down.
I fail spectacularly.
He does just the opposite, feasting on me with his gaze, his look melting my will.
‘What’s happening?’ I glare at him, suppressing the urge to beat his chest with my fists. ‘You’re planning a threesome?’
‘With you in that?’ His eyes flicker. ‘No way.’
‘So who is she?’ I keep my voice low in case my outrage derails things before I can prise an explanation out of him.
His lip curls. ‘What, you want me to introduce you? I thought you two knew each other.’ His sardonic tone is a shock. So is the slight flare to his nostrils, proof it’s real.
Does he have any idea how close he is to sudden death? I take a step closer and raise my chin, keeping my voice low. ‘And why, precisely, should I know that?’
He frowns, like something’s not quite adding up. ‘She was in your class.’ His tone hints both that it’s my fault and that this explains everything. ‘Consuela’s over here for a while. She’s under my personal protection.’ He breathes out slowly, summoning patience.
‘I thought I was under your personal protection.’ All at once my voice sounds husky. It’s a minor miracle I have a voice at all.
I’m at a serious disadvantage here. She’s not only lissom and beautiful, she’s freshly showered and elegant in sexy satin. I’ve been working hard all day; I’m hot and tired and the hasty dab-wash I managed in the staff toilets did nothing to cool me down. I’ve no satin or scent to help me out, just kooky pigtails and too-tight, day-weary pedal-pushers.
I’m defenceless – alone and unarmed.
And as I stare at him, still not making any sense of all this, an awful possibility washes over me.
Is this it
?
Is this how it’s done?
Is this how he dumps me? Is this what happens when his mysterious love life ricochets from one dazzling beauty to another: skipping over the shy, awkward teacher-cum-poet he somehow got stuck with somewhere in between?
Famously crap at relationships
: Ryan’s description. My ex should know. He was famously crap at them himself.
Darnley’s expression is unreadable. I want to scream and shout, tell him to get that woman the hell out of here. But something in his manner stops me.
He’s unnaturally still, his look unnaturally intense. ‘You are,’ he says at last.
I see a flicker in his eyes. There’s something under the surface here, something he’s not telling me.
And he’s pissed about it.
Correction. He’s pissed at
me
.
‘No towels in here.’ The silvery voice slices between us as the woman reappears. She glances up at me. ‘Call me Cola, by the way. And you’re Ella?’
He rolls his eyes. ‘I said try the en-suite. Better still, go ask my housekeeper.’
She sighs heavily and pads off in the other direction.
Now Darnley frowns at me, his expression faintly exasperated. ‘She’s here with the South American trade delegation. Cola’s over
here looking for an internship. She’s being stalked. I’m looking after her for now.’
He steps up close, touches my cheek with one finger, his expression thoughtful as he lowers his voice. ‘It’s a family thing, Ella. It can’t be helped. You
really
don’t know who she is? I find that hard to believe. But here goes. She knew how to find your class today. She even knew your name. So it looks to me like you two already met. But if we’re still play-acting, then here goes. She’s a friend of the family. She’s with my mother. They’re on a visit from Washington.’
I hardly have time to draw in a deep breath of joy and relief before he pulls me into his arms and fastens his mouth on mine. We kiss for an age – or no time at all. I lose track. He tastes wonderful – heaven and spice in one heady mix.
As he pulls away his expression hardens. ‘Hey, never mind her, it’s Friday night. We’re now on Wolfe Time. And we have things to discuss. Starting with
these.
’
I knew it.
Arousal fizzes through me, scorching all my pent-up feelings into hot, hard lust. I bite my lip and look up through my lashes. ‘There’s a problem?’
His eyes narrow. ‘Damn right there’s a problem. You’re wearing it. And we’re going to deal with it right now.’ He pats my backside none too gently and hustles me into his room.
At that moment there’s a commotion outside. I follow Darnley’s glance and see a large black sedan, flanked by an outrider on a motorcycle. They both have diplomatic number plates and small foreign pennants fluttering at the front.
‘Ah, Cola’s escort. Let’s hope she’s decent.’ He turns to me, the gleam in his eyes hinting that I am anything but. ‘I’d better see her off. You stay here.’ He steps up close and brushes his lips to my face. ‘And no touching.’ He runs a finger along my cheek, his lip curling at the corner, and then lowers his voice. ‘I’ll know.’
I wait by the window, breathless, while the fresh-washed spoilt brat is herded into the vast car, doors are slammed and she’s driven smoothly away. I draw in a long breath and let it out slowly as relief floods over me.
My relief lasts just forty seconds, the time it takes him to get back upstairs. The minute Darnley’s door closes behind him I know I’m in trouble. He folds his arms, his jaw stern. He looks lean and mean. I feel shaky.
I sense a wave of power emanate from him. Or maybe mine just ebbed away.
His eyes narrow as he steps closer. ‘Freaky Friday, indeed. Now you can tell me just what the hell you think you’re playing at dressed up like that.’ His eyes fill with heat.
I shiver, part playful, part scared, as he slowly lifts one of my pigtails and runs it through his fingers, letting the tight braid glide over his hand. His eyes stay locked on mine.
‘I
was at work
.
Seriously, Darnley, I’d no idea I’d see you today.’
‘And that makes it OK, does it?’ He arches an eyebrow but his voice lowers a notch, making me shiver.
I lower my eyelids, thrilled at where we’re going but determined to hold my ground. Down below my belly contorts in an agony of arousal. At this rate I’ll come where I stand
.
‘It’s for work. We all do it. Anyway, I’m not exactly slutty schoolgirl …’ I tail off at the sudden gleam in his eyes.
‘That’s for me to say. How many people saw you today?’
I stare at him, confused. ‘Hardly anybody. It’s just for work, Darnley. I’d no idea you were going to walk in and play
Die Hard
in my drama class.’
He flicks my pigtail with one finger and then seizes the other and pulls me towards him. ‘I know a bad girl when I see one. And I also know when she’s digging a hole for herself. How many, Ella?’
He’s grinning now but watchful, poised for some kill. I shiver as he draws me into his arms and his hand runs down my side to my tense, tightly clad backside. I haven’t worn pedal-pushers in a while … He squeezes gently as he presses against me and now I know instantly from the hard, jutting column of power that burns up against my belly that he’s suffered as much as I have while we’ve been apart, maybe even more.
And I sure as hell know what he needs now.
Now I know where we’re going I hardly care how we get there. What’s more, I can take all the time I like over my journey. I smile up at him through my lashes and go for broke. ‘No idea. Let’s say … about a hundred?’
If I’d said a thousand he couldn’t look more pleased. He masks it quickly, stern now as he looks me over, assessing all the possibilities of my silly, kooky outfit and the fake innocence in my eyes, growing wider now in real alarm.