Seduce Me Page 7

  ‘I woke up and found you gone,’ he said.

  ‘Did you think I’d run away?’

  ‘You can never run away from me, Lana. I would journey into the underworld to find you. You are mine.’

  ‘I went to church.’

  ‘Yes, Brian said. I thought you didn’t believe in God.’

  ‘For short there is tall, for sad there is happy. For dark there must be light. I wanted to align myself with the God of goodness. I wanted to ask his help.’

  ‘Oh, Lana. You and all the believers of this world. You pray and you pray and all your billions of unanswered prayers are like wailing cries somewhere. Your God doesn’t exist.’ His voice is so sad.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because if he did the world wouldn’t be the way it is. And even if he does exist he is definitely not the lord of this world.’

  I looked up into his face. Already the weight of being the head of the Barrington dynasty is changing the shape of his face.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Look around you, Lana. The entire planet, land, air and sea, has been poisoned by sheer greed, your food is toxic, you are governed by sociopaths who wage war after war with impunity while promising peace, and humanity itself is poised on the brink of extinction. Who do you think is in charge? Your God of love and light, or mine?’

  My eyes suddenly fly off the page. Footsteps. I freeze. Coming this way. Shit. I snap shut the book and look around me. Nearer. I dare not slip under the bed for fear of ruining my dress. I run to the wardrobe. Dresses. Lana’s. I step into it and pull the door behind me, but even before I can click it shut, the door to the room opens and Lana and Blake enter. I close the door very, very slowly until there is but an inch left open. I say a little prayer that they will have no reason to open the cupboard. I find I can watch them through the little slit.

  ‘Well, what’s the surprise then?’ asks Lana. There is a happy note in her voice. The happiness is surreal after what I read in her journal. There, she had been confused and unhappy, very unhappy.

  ‘I’ve got a dress for you.’

  ‘A dress?’ she repeats. She seems surprised.

  ‘Mmnnn.’

  ‘What type of dress?’

  ‘It’s in the wardrobe, I’ll get it,’ he says and starts walking toward me.

  Shit, shit, shit. I squeeze shut my eyes. I’ll tell them I came in here by mistake. I was looking for the toilet.

  And then he goes to the door of the other wardrobe. I take a deep breath. My heart is thudding like crazy. Thank God I chose this cupboard and not the other. I see him go towards Lana. The dress is in a green plastic covering. He holds it in front of her.

  ‘Go on, take a look.’

  ‘OK.’ She unzips it and gasps at its content. Her eyes fly up to his face. One hand covers her mouth. ‘There was only one in the shop, where did you get it from?’ she asks.

  He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead he carefully takes the dress out of its covering. The dress is white with a Mandarin collar, three jewel-encrusted leaf-shaped cut-outs in the chest and slits up the side.

  ‘Where did you get it from?’ Lana repeats.

  ‘I dug the other one out of the bin and told Laura I wanted an exact copy made. Exact material, exact color, exact thread, exactly the same stones, and if there was a missed stitch in the original, I wanted that copied too. They had to go to Paris to find the material.’

  Lana laughs, surprised, but at the same time pleased. ‘God! How much did it cost?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  ‘I can’t believe you went to all that trouble.’

  ‘You wrote in your journal that you loved it. And I was sorry the moment I tore it. You looked so beautiful that night.’

  ‘Oh, darling. How I love you,’ she says, her voice breaking. She starts fanning her face with her hands. ‘You’re going to make me spoil my make-up.’

  Blake puts the dress on the bed and reaches out for her. She fits perfectly against his body.

  ‘I’ve got a surprise for you too, but you can only have it tonight,’ she says.

  ‘Oh yeah? What is it?’

  ‘It’s a surprise.’

  ‘You know I don’t like surprises. They make me anxious.’

  ‘This is a good surprise.’

  ‘Do you want to see me suffer on my wedding day?’

  ‘All right,’ she relents. ‘I’ll give you one clue. If you don’t get it you’ll just have to suffer.’

  ‘Go on then.’

  ‘Deep.’

  ‘Throat,’ he says smugly.

  She hits his chest and he laughs. ‘Oh, you spoilsport. I hope you’re happy now that you’ve ruined your wedding night surprise.’

  ‘Where did you learn to do that?’

  ‘Billie and I went to special classes in London.’ She looks meaningfully at him.

  ‘Billie wanted to learn how to deep throat?’

  ‘Yeah, she said she’d always wanted to swallow a sword.’

  Blake laughs and I am struck by how suddenly young and full of life he appears. ‘That girl is incorrigible. What happened to her muscled guy?’

  ‘Don’t know. He said he’d call after a month, but he never did. Turned out it was just a one-night stand.’

  ‘Shame. She liked him, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Lana says thoughtfully, ‘she did.’

  ‘She’ll find someone else. Anyway, I’ve got a wedding night surprise for you too.’

  ‘Well, what is it?’

  ‘I’m not telling and spoiling the surprise.’

  ‘What? You made me spoil mine.’

  He laughs wickedly.

  ‘Give me one word.’

  ‘Chocolate.’

  ‘White, milk or dark.’

  ‘Dark.’

  ‘But I don’t like dark.’

  ‘You’re not the one who will be doing the eating.’

  Laughter gurgles through Lana. ‘Oh! You predator.’

  ‘I can’t help it when I scent easy prey.’

  ‘Easy prey!’ Lana huffs. ‘I’ll get you for that later. Let’s go. People will start to think we are up to something.’

  ‘Let them. Stay with me another minute.’

  There is laughter in her voice. ‘OK, but just a minute.’

  ‘What kind of underwear are you wearing?’

  ‘White as the driven snow, tiny, frothy and with ribbons trailing down my thighs. It made even my head reel to look at them.’

  ‘Quick peek?’

  ‘Let’s not add sticky to the list of adjectives, shall we?’

  ‘How about if I only use my teeth on the ribbons?’

  ‘How about if I put you over my knee and spank you?’

  He throws his head back and roars with laughter, the sound masculine, rumbling from deep within. ‘That’ll be the day, Mrs. Barrington.’

  When he stops she put her hands on either side of his face and kisses him lightly on the lips. ‘Oh, Blake. You’ve made today so special.’

  He kisses her ear. ‘No, it is you who has made today special. Today, Mrs. Blake Law Barrington, I’ll even put up with that ear technique Billie taught you.’

  ‘Go ahead and laugh. I learned things in London. You’ll be gagging for my techniques.’

  ‘I’m already begging now.’ He bends his head to her neck and whatever it is he does makes her gasp. ‘Stop. You’re turning me on.’

  ‘How ’bout a quickie, hmmm? I’ve never had it off with a married woman before.’

  Lana steps back and slaps his hands down. ‘Behave or I will have to tell my husband.’

  ‘And what will you tell him, Mrs. Barrington?’

  ‘I will tell him I met an irresistible man who tried to seduce me with promises of chocolate, but I didn’t succumb.’

  ‘I wish all these people would go home.’

  ‘Come on, let’s get back to the party.’

  ‘All right,’ he agrees reluctantly.

&
nbsp; They are already at the door when Lana notices her journal.

  ‘Wait,’ she says, ‘I’d better lock this away. I wouldn’t want anybody accidentally reading about all the things we get up to.’

  ‘You’re going to need a new book halfway through our honeymoon,’ he teases as she puts it into the drawer, locks it and drops the key into his trouser pocket. They close the door and leave and I wait until their footsteps die away before I creep out of the cupboard.

  Wow, wow, wow!

  First off, I thought Billie was a lesbian. What’s she doing having one-night stands with muscular men? And Billie and Lana taking lessons in sexual techniques? Deep throat. Chocolate? And that strange diary that Lana is keeping. His God and her God… What could it all mean?

  I wish I had had the chance to read more. I try the drawer, but it is definitely locked. I go to the bed and touch the white dress. The material is soft and smooth. I hold the dress up. It is so beautiful. I have never had anything so fine and probably never will. Again I suffer that old sharp, swift twist of envy. It is a demon that will not lie down and sleep or die.

  I open the door, dart down the corridor, take the small staircase at the back, and cross over to the long corridor that leads to the vegetable gardens. From there I run along the high brick wall and, sprinting to the marquee, I slip in through the staff entrance. I walk to my table under the disapproving stare of India Jane and slip into my seat.

  ‘Where have you been?’ mutters Fat Mary.

  ‘I had an emergency.’

  ‘Nice one,’ Billie comments, as the music lowers and the Master of Ceremonies announces, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming Mr. and Mrs. Blake Law Barrington.’

  We all rise to our feet and clap to welcome the beautiful couple. After their entrance, not much worthy of note occurs until after the starters of tender lamb brochettes with honey roast shallot have been dispensed with.

  Then the best man stands and begins his speech. ‘I’ll try to keep this short,’ he says lazily, ‘since I wouldn’t want to intrude in that cherished but brief period between ‘I do’ and ‘You’d better.’

  The guests break out in laughter. But the thing about him is he really means it. After complimenting the bride and bridesmaids and thanking us he wraps up with the words. ‘I’d like to propose a toast: to Lana and Blake! May the rest of your lives be filled with joy, wonder, laughter and love.’

  We all raise our glasses.

  Twelve

  I notice her immediately. It could be because she has that same regal bearing and inbred disdain of all those fortunate women that grace the pages of Hello! An air that I immediately admire and gravitate towards. I see her snap her fingers at a waiter bearing a tray. When he veers to her, she picks up a glass of red wine from his tray and, without taking a sip from it, begins to walk towards me. It is only when she is maybe ten feet away from me that I realize: she is not striding purposefully towards me, but towards Lana.

  I heard Blake excuse himself a few minutes earlier to go to the Men’s room and Lana is talking to a blonde woman who is congratulating her. The woman seems a little drunk. I hear the laughter in Lana’s voice as the woman leans into her. I turn back to look at the socialite bearing the glass of red wine. She is only a few feet away and the expression on her face chills me. There is so much hatred and loathing etched in it. And everything happens too quickly for me to comprehend.

  I hear Lana gasp. There is fear in that sound. The socialite is already standing between her and the tipsy woman. In a flash I know exactly who she is. This is Cleopatra and the serpent all rolled into one; this is the ex who has been watching Lana from afar. Victoria!

  True, I am envious of Lana and of all the things she has, but at that moment, through a process I do not understand, she becomes my friend. I know instinctively that she is in danger and my first thought is to protect her. I know I should do something, and I want to, but I am frozen to the spot. I don’t know how to be brave. I have never been in my life.

  The socialite’s eyes glint dangerously. She is like a living switchblade. ‘You think you are so clever. But you have no idea what you’ve caught in your little net. He has done what they all have to do… Things that will make your skin crawl.’

  ‘No, he’s not like the rest of you,’ Lana whispers, but her voice is full of horror.

  Victoria’s response is instant. Like a dagger. From her mouth into Lana’s heart. ‘Is it possible that you are truly that blind or are you just a willfully stupid cunt?’

  The movement is fast, confused. There is a sudden blur of flesh. She jerks her wine glass upward, and red liquid flies out in a graceful arc—no, no, not the beautiful dress—and splashes onto Lana’s dress. The glass falls to the carpet, rolls away soundlessly.

  You fucking animal, I want to scream, but I am too shocked and horrified to react, and so, it appears, is Lana. The attack is so sudden, so unexpected. Lana is just standing there white-faced and paralyzed, even as the devil woman, her face twisted with homicidal rage, raises her arm and lets it smash down towards Lana’s face. But the strike splicing the air never reaches. A man standing nearby, who had earlier simply seemed to me to be a slightly inebriated guest, suddenly and with lightning speed catches the slap mid-air.

  He twists her body against his own, as she struggles and kicks ineffectively in his vise-like arm lock. At that moment she looks as repulsive as any slimy bug you would find wriggling under a wet stone. Even in the large man’s grip, Victoria never takes her eyes off Lana. Her features contorted, and hissing like a venomous snake, she pushes her face forward. A spray of spittle falls across Lana’s cheek. They stare at each other. The concentrated, utter hatred is shocking.

  ‘You don’t know him. You can never know him,’ she enunciates coldly and clearly, her eyes glittering triumphantly, even as the man begins to drag her away.

  Lana simply stares at her, her mouth slack with shock, as if she cannot comprehend the viciousness of the other woman. Her hands are visibly trembling. At that moment for the first time in my life I feel sorry for her. All these people staring at her humiliation with the same mixture of pity and horrified curiosity of people who slow down at car crashes to watch.

  Poor Lana. Her beautiful wedding has been utterly ruined. And the dress that she had loved so much is surely beyond redemption. I remember her saying, ‘I’ll store it carefully in case my daughter wants to wear it some day.’

  Another man in a suit, but obviously part of the security service too, runs up to help and the bitch is bodily picked up and carted away. That is when she screams something that stills my heart and makes the hairs at the back of my neck rise.

  ‘He has blood on his hands. Children’s blood,’ she screeches maniacally.

  Her words seem to slam into Lana. She flinches and sways on her feet.

  ‘One day I will kill you,’ is the last thing Victoria screams before she starts venting her fury at the men who are dragging her away. ‘Let go of me, you fucking, ugly cunt. Take your filthy hands off me right now. Do you know who I am?’ She is still hurling abuse and insults when she is dragged outside, with a hand probably clamped over her mouth.

  Nobody moves. The tension in the room is so palpable that the music suddenly seems overly loud and jarring. Another ‘guest’ detaches himself from the frozen milieu of people and goes up to Lana. His eyes are watchful and hard.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asks. His voice is soft and kindly, at odds with the cold light in his eyes.

  Lana nods mutely, and as soon as the best man appears beside Lana, he nods again, and goes the way of the other men and their struggling captive.

  Vann Wolfe puts his arm around Lana’s shoulders and looks down at her, kindness in his eyes. From the corner of my eyes I see Billie start running towards Lana. She looks utterly furious. There is a white line around her mouth. But she comes to a sudden standstill, and when I look to where her gaze is, I see Blake striding towards Lana.

  His eyes are terrif
ying and his jaw is clenched so hard the muscles in his neck are rigid. I will never forget that look of unbreakable purpose as long as I live. There is no one else in the room for him. Only Lana. When he reaches her, the best man falls back, and she raises her shocked eyes up to him.

  ‘She’ll never stop, will she?’ she gasps. Her eyes are large and wounded.

  ‘No harm can befall a single hair on your head while I am alive,’ he tells her tenderly. The deep love he has for her is unmistakable. It shines in his eyes, radiates out of his being.

  Tears fill her eyes.

  At the sight of her tears even the backs of my own eyes start stinging. The awfulness of what has happened is impossible to describe. How wrong it had all gone in the blink of an eye. I thought back to how happy she had been while we were all getting ready this morning.

  ‘My dress—’ she whispers hoarsely.

  ‘Can be recreated to the last stitch. Remember…’ he reminds so gently, I am startled. How could a man with such cold, hard eyes be so utterly gentle and tender? It seems inconceivable. I watch transfixed as he simply gazes into her eyes and something deep and secret seems to pass between them. A something that I have never known. A look of belonging. The tears that were brimming in her eyes spill over. With one finger he gently wipes first one cheek and then the other.

  ‘Thank God for waterproof mascara,’ he says.

  Must be some private joke, because Lana sniffs and smiles weakly.

  ‘That’s my baby,’ he says, and raises a hand almost like a child asking the teacher for permission to be excused. In fact it is a cue. Suddenly all the light cuts out except for the twinkling lights that look like diamonds in the velvet blackness of the ceiling. Two spotlights come on and, searching the room, find them.

  Lana looks surprised.

  In the darkness comes the disembodied, honeyed, deeply baritone voice of Barry White, ‘We got it together, didn’t we?’ And that sexy guffaw he had.