Dark Consequences (Club Risque Book 4)

by Poppy Flynn

  When Charlotte asked for her door keys, Laurel just looked at her blankly until the other woman gently pried Laurel's fingers away from the white knuckled grip she had on her handbag and dug around inside it to find them for herself.

  Once inside the house, Laurel knew Charlotte was asking questions, but it was as if they were for someone else and none of it computed in her mind.

  The next thing Laurel was aware of was that she was undressed and tucked up in bed, but she had no recollection of how that had happened. The digital readout of the clock on her bedside cabinet said it was 4:00 am, so obviously, she'd been asleep for a while. Laurel thought back over the evening and tried to fill in some of the blanks, but it was all too painful, and her mind rebelled against the idea. Instead, she just felt numb. It wasn't such an unpleasant feeling. It was better than the horrific pain that felt like it was physically slicing through her chest. She went back to sleep.

  Seven hours later, Laurel was startled awake by the feeling of the bed depressing as someone sat down next to her, and knowing she should be alone, she sat up fast, a little disoriented, and nearly spilled the coffee that Charlotte was holding in her hand.

  "Hey, it's okay, sweetie, it's just me," Charlotte said soothingly. "Here, have a drink and I'll get you some breakfast. Well, brunch, now, I suppose, since it's gone on eleven, but I wanted to check you were okay before I have to leave."

  Laurel reached out for the steaming mug with hands that had a fine tremor to them. Charlotte noticed and wrapped her own hands around Laurel's as she took the cup.

  When she was satisfied that the other girl had a secure grip, Charlotte pulled away and Laurel couldn't help but wince as she threw open the curtains and bright morning sunshine spilled through the window, in complete contrast to Laurel's mood.

  "I'm fine, but I'm not very hungry," Laurel mumbled, taking a sip of the strong brew and hoping it would kick start her weirdly lethargic brain.

  "Come on, Laurel. You'll feel better if you eat something."

  Laurel tried not to scoff…or glower. She knew Charlotte was only trying to help and had her best interests at heart and Laurel was grateful, really, she was, that Charlotte was a good enough friend to get her home last night when she'd been in such a state. But really? Like food was going to make her feel any better. In fact, the thought just made her slightly nauseas.

  "Get yourself showered and dressed while I get things started and everything will seem so much better," Charlotte said chirpily.

  It seemed Charlotte, herself, was also sporting a particularly sunny disposition and Laurel tried to keep it from irritating her, but she wasn't having very much luck. Why couldn't the woman just leave her alone and let her sleep?

  Laurel rubbed her hands over her face and crawled out of bed. It was clear that the only way she was going to get any peace was if she put on a brave face and made Charlotte think that everything was all right.

  Ninety minutes later, Laurel finally breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't that she was ungrateful; she just wanted to be left alone. Her phone had been blowing up all morning, too, until Laurel had eventually turned it off. The first knock on her door came about mid-afternoon and Laurel pretended she wasn't in. By the third interruption in the space of two hours, she decided it was time to actually make herself scarce and leave the apartment for a little while.

  She couldn't face the thought of going in to work tomorrow, so she had already decided to call in sick while she determined what to do. She didn't want a parade of well-intentioned people all coming around to make sure she was all right. She just couldn't deal with that right now. The personal humiliation was bad enough, without having to share it with anyone else.

  She hatched a plan and packed an overnight bag with enough clothes for a couple of days and headed out. She cursed a blue streak when she realised that her car was still at Club Risqué. With a sigh, she switched her phone back on and suffered through the multitude of message notifications, all of which she ignored, before she was able to call a cab. At least on a Sunday afternoon, Club Risqué would be empty and she would be able to retrieve her car without any hassle.

  It was almost lunchtime before Luanna found five minutes where she could leave her office for long enough to scoot across to the plush directors' area of the finance floor. At first, she thought she'd left it too late and Laurel had taken an early lunch, but a barrage of rather loud cursing had her hurrying to Desi's office to find Connor hurling profanities at both his computer terminal and Laurel's name.

  "Connor!" Luanna exclaimed in mild shock. "Is everything okay?" She peered around the large corner office, but there was no sign of Laurel. So evidently, he wasn't throwing the expletives in the girl's face, at least.

  Connor scowled and bellowed, "It's about damn time you got your tardy ass…" He looked up before he finished the tirade and bit off the rest of the words, sucking in a harsh breath while his eyes widened in surprise and then flashed discomfiture as he realized it was Luanna at the door and not his PA.

  The shock on Luanna's face was unmissable. Her eyebrows had hitched so high that her brow furrowed, and her mouth hung open. Her stance was defensive as she hovered half in, half out of the doorway as if she was about to bolt, her elegant hands pressed against her chest in appalled dismay.

  Connor raised his hands in supplication. "I'm sorry, Luanna, I'm a little stressed. That was completely uncalled for, I know. Please forgive me."

  Luanna straightened, but her expression was still very obviously disgusted. "No problem, I was actually looking for Laurel," she replied stiffly, not wanting to voice her concern for the girl which had now tripled in the face of what she'd just heard.

  Connor rubbed both his hands across his face. "She's not in today," he informed. "She called in sick this morning."

  "Is there anything I can help you with?" Luanna offered uncomfortably, since etiquette and Connor's status as a director dictated that she should, even though her gut reaction was to get as far away from the offensive situation as possible with a possible detour to the HR department on the way back to her office. Regardless of his position, maybe even because of it, it was completely inappropriate for him to speak to any member of staff in that manner, even if it had been directed at the woman he was most probably having an affair with. And if he was involved with Laurel, as rumor implied, then quite frankly, he should be treating her all the better for it, not worse.

  "I'm trying to access information on the Hanson account," he intoned politely. "I can't do that, however, without Laurel's passcodes."

  Luanna gave a terse nod. "I'll e-mail you the information I have in finance when I get back to my office," she said somewhat woodenly, but she couldn't help that right now. All she could think about was Laurel and how distraught she'd been Saturday night, how very unlike herself she'd been for the past week, maybe ten days, whatever. A period of time that ran almost concurrently with Connor's appearance. Had Laurel been having to deal with the kind of verbal abuse she'd just caught the tip of since Desi left?

  "Of course, the idiosyncratic stuff, you'd only get from Laurel," she continued. "And I dare say a lot of that is personal insight and only exists in her head."

  Connor cursed again, albeit under his breath this time. Luanna fixed him with a blank look and backed out of the door. "I'll go and get that done now." She excused herself and made a hasty exit.

  Connor watched the Blackwood Universal's Finance Manager back out of the door and then turn and hurry back down the corridor at what was almost a trot. He closed his eyes and, rubbing his hands over his face, tried to wipe away the look of complete and utter shock on the poor woman's face when he had hurled abuse at her and how it had turned to an icy disdain that she had done her best to cover up, probably out of respect for his position. He wondered how long it would be before he had Logan storming in here and pulling him up for the way Connor had spoken to his woman.

  Damn it, this was all Laurel's fault. Why the hell hadn't she stuck around on Saturday night
? Yeah, he knew she was probably a bit peeved at having seen him scening with the Spanx woman, but surely, she had understood when Trinity had told her that it was purely business. And he could hardly be held responsible for the fact that a damn reporter had tried to gain unlawful access to the club so that they'd been forced to have an emergency meeting to decide how to approach the issue.

  He knew she was probably upset and undoubtedly extremely frustrated that the eventual culmination of Friday night's torrid and tumultuous scene had needed to be postponed for a little longer than he'd planned. But there had been no set order of events, so it wasn't as if he'd specifically been late. And damn it, Laurel understood business better than most. Okay, so she might not have understood the necessity of him being huddled away in conference with Micah since she was unaware of the true extent of his involvement with Club Risqué, but it wasn't as if he'd been deliberately avoiding her. He'd caught a brief glimpse of her as she'd left with Micah's trainee sub and he'd been shocked at how upset she'd appeared. He just couldn't work out why. Okay, so sexual frustration could be a powerful thing, but why the heck hadn't she just stuck around so that they both had the opportunity to scratch the itch that Connor had deliberately built to fever pitch the night before? And why wasn't she answering her phone or her door. And why the hell had she not come in to work today? Was this all part of some crazy-ass plan to make him pay for keeping her waiting? That might be just the kind of hair-brained stunt the impetuous girl might pull. Except that if he was brutally honest with himself, he had to admit that despite her exuberant attitude, Laurel was more than responsible with her work ethos. She took it seriously and made sure all the work was done, even if she did sometimes do it with the light of mischief in her eye and an unholy gleam in her smile. He'd never known anything to have a negative effect on her work before now. Maybe she was just genuinely ill. That would make more sense. In fact, it was the only thing that did make sense right now.

  He made a mental note to check on her again when he finished for the day, to see if she needed anything. In the meantime, he tried, somewhat vainly, to rid himself of the irrational temper that had taken hold of him with a vengeance. God, he needed to get himself together.

  Chapter 15

  Laurel had quit. Connor stood, the following day, staring incomprehensively at the memo slip that had been stacked on his desk when he'd finally made it in from his morning meetings.

  What the fucking hell? Connor rubbed at the massive ache in his temple, which had set the vein there throbbing as if it might just rupture completely. And right now, that might be a goddamn relief, because his head had been splitting worse than ever—and that was saying something—ever since he'd made the trip out to her apartment last night, only to be met with a silence that had set off one of his ever more tenuous moods and the knowledge that the place genuinely appeared to be empty rather than Fluff just sitting inside ignoring the doorbell. Not that he would have put something like that above her, it was just that the place had that kind of empty feel about it.

  Of course, he'd been furious at the time, cursing a blue streak and silently accusing Laurel of all kinds of uncomplimentary transgressions and cursing himself for worrying about an irresponsible attention whore, when she was clearly just off gallivanting, at the expense of everybody around her who was trying to pick up the slack she had left. He'd left her apartment block in a hurry after his frenzied pounding on her front door had drawn the attention of a couple of neighbours who had looked at him as if they might call the cops. He'd gone back to his hotel and skipped dinner in favour of a liquid lunch and, in his anger and frustration, had managed to down over half a bottle of scotch before he fell into a drunken doze on the couch which had left him with a crick in his neck since it was far too small for him to stretch out his 6'6" frame properly.

  He was still furious now. In fact, he could feel the rage building up inside him like it was some kind of living, breathing entity that was fighting to get out. And suddenly, Connor felt as if it was beyond his capability to hold it in any longer. Adrenaline pumped through him like a freight train, causing a buzzing in his head, which was replaced by a dull roar. There was fury and there was motion, but there was no conscious thought.

  A massive crashing sound brought Connor back to his senses and he stared in horror and shock at the mess of shattered glass and ceramic that lay in front of him. For several long moments, everything was simply beyond his comprehension. Then he looked around wildly for the perpetrator, but there was no one there but him.

  His heart was pumping as if he'd just run a marathon and sweat was trickling down his forehead. Connor dropped to his knees and held his aching head in his hands. What the hell was happening to him? It was clear as he removed his fingers from where they shielded his eyes, as if he could pretend it wasn't true, that someone—no, he—he had taken the heavy lead crystal ash tray that sat on the side of his desk and had launched it across the room where it had smashed into a large vase of ornamental flowers. Both items had exploded on impact and there were angry splinters of ceramic and fractured shards of glass all over the carpet. Connor swallowed convulsively against the nausea that threatened to bubble up inside him. Why couldn't he remember? His mind was a blank, and for the second time in his life, Connor Griffin was truly terrified. He wondered again what the hell was happening to him?

  Jake Blackwood huffed out a breath and wondered just how the shit had managed to hit the fan so quickly after Joel and Desi's departure. To be fair, the situation with a reporter trying to gain access to the club could hardly be attributed to them being away. That could have happened any time and was just one of those things they had to be vigilant about.

  Jake knew better than anybody how the lure of a big, juicy, lucrative story drew the critters out of the woodwork and had them sniffing about for their next big pay check; the glory of breaking scandal and making a name for oneself. It was inevitable that the sale and refurbishment of 'Perversions' into the new Club Risqué would provoke some interest.

  The scale of the project and the range of tradespeople that needed to be involved had made it impossible to keep the venture as quiet as they would have liked and the anonymity surrounding the new buyers only fanned speculation into their identities. Besides, they'd managed to nip that one in the bud. Their new membership checks had proven to be worthwhile and reliable and their imposter had been caught with no harm done, so that particular bullet had been dodged.

  The situation that had blown up involving Laurel Stanton, Desi's long time PA at Blackwood Universal, was an entirely different matter. What the hell was Connor playing at? It was Laurel's sudden resignation that had Jake back on a plane to the east coast in full trouble-shooting mode.

  Laurel had been a trusted member of Desi's crew at Universal for years. Jake knew for a fact that for at least the past four years, when Desi had made a promotion, she'd had it written into her contract that Laurel moved with her.

  They were a team—an excellent one—and with Desi and Joel on honeymoon and Connor holding the reins temporarily, Laurel's input was vital, because she was the one with all the inside knowledge. She knew what Desi was working on, how those projects were progressing, and with Desi away, Laurel was the only one with those unique and personal insights that couldn't be summed up in a report. She was the one with the exclusive, informal observations that often made all the difference when a buyout was in the balance. Never mind all the other duties she breezed through.

  Jake knew, first hand, just how hard Desi had worked over the past few years, how many fifteen-hour days she had put in, how many lunch breaks she missed. If Desi, with her complete workaholic mentality, saw fit to keep Laurel by her side, then you could bet your back teeth there was a damn good reason for it. And while Connor might have stepped in as the temporary captain of this ship, he was pretty certain that it was Laurel who had been steering it…and now she was gone. And it was down to Jake, in his troubleshooting capacity, to get them out of this mess.

 
; But just what the hell had gone wrong? Desi and Laurel had been a force to be reckoned with for a very long time. Laurel was unquestionably loyal to Desi, going to lengths that even Desi wouldn't have asked of her, things that most certainly weren't in her job description. Like picking up Desi's dry cleaning or grabbing her boss some lunch when she was just too busy to get around to it herself, thoughtful little things that helped matters run smoothly and saved Desi one more headache.

  So, what on earth could have caused this unexpected turn of events? The merger had gone ahead without any great upheaval several months ago, so he didn't think it was that. And Desi's honeymoon had been carefully planned so that it didn't impact on any major deals or cause any other significant disruption.

  The only other variable factor in this scenario was Connor, and Jake had a very nasty feeling that that was where the trouble lay. The problem was just how was he supposed to get around it?

  Connor was his friend, a shareholder and director in his own right, and Jake was damn sure Connor knew better than to give even a first rung mail runner the means to claim constructive dismissal. And with Desi as her champion, there was no way in this lifetime that Laurel was in any way lacking when it came to her work or her work ethic.

  Which brought him right back around to the initial question. What the hell was going on and how had the proverbial shit hit the fan so damn soon!

  So far, Laurel Stanton was refusing to reconsider her resignation, vaguely citing irreconcilable differences as her justification, and Connor was being unusually tight lipped about what the issues surrounding her sudden decision might be, leading Jake to further suspect that his friend had somehow contributed to the whole clusterfuck, leaving Jake in an awkward position regarding how to proceed.

  Across town, that same evening, Connor Griffin sat in his hotel suite and held his bowed head in his hands.