Lovers and Liars: An addictive sexy beach read

by Nigel May

  Nikki was determined to get Julian to make sure that Blair was reinstated. Now that all of the deceit was out there she could threaten him with exposing their affair to Sheridan. Surely that would turn her father against him? Oscillate his anger away from Nikki and onto his right-hand man? But would Sheridan believe her? Nikki wasn’t sure, but whatever she did, her father couldn’t hate her any more than he already did, could he? When you’re already running on empty, what else is there to lose?

  Blair wandered back into the suite from the bathroom, a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist. His buzz-cut hair and sculpted definition was pure Action Man and for a second every ounce of despair and anguish disappeared from Nikki’s head as she looked at him. He smiled at her, his beam wide and genuine, a pearly-white blanket to wrap around all of the heartache she was feeling. How could something so perfect grow in the toxic wasteland that was currently her life? She couldn’t let anything spoil what she had with Blair, or let any of her own weaknesses destroy what he had already achieved. As he moved towards her the light glinted off the cross that hung around his neck. In their short time together, they had shared so much. Already he had bared his soul to her and she wouldn’t let her father, or Julian, destroy it.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked, smiling at him as he joined her on the bed.

  ‘I am – I’m with you,’ he murmured.

  In other circumstances the look between them would have been a prelude to a symphony of lovemaking, but given what had passed and the fact that Blair was supposed to be preparing for work, it was no more than a sharing of their understanding for each other.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ whispered Nikki. ‘You don’t deserve any of this.’ She placed her hand on his cheek, dotted with day-old stubble, and ran her fingers across his flesh.

  ‘And neither do you.’ Blair could see the first hint of tears forming in Nikki’s eyes. ‘We’ll sort it. Your father can’t fire me just like that, I’m sure, and as for telling me that I need to cut you out of my life if I’m to work in Velvet hotels ever again well, forgive my crudeness, but your daddy can go screw himself. I’m not giving you up, Nikki, no way! There are other hotels, other venues.’

  ‘But you don’t know my father. He’s ruthless. He’ll find a way to destroy you if he wants. What about the hidden cameras? If he has footage of you snorting coke or…’ She left the sentence hanging.

  ‘Wow, a DJ who likes to get a little high sometimes! I hardly think that’s going to bump Kim and Kanye off the front page of The National Enquirer. And do you really believe for one second your dad’s installed hidden cameras in hotel suites? Imagine if that came to light. Boom, he’d be sued for invasion of privacy straight away!’

  ‘My father has never played by the rules, Blair, never. He’d find a way to destroy you, I swear. I can’t let that happen.’

  ‘It won’t.’ Blair was determined to try and appear calm and collected, even if a deep flow of molten-hot worry bubbled inside him when he thought about some of the scenes from his hedonistic life that could have been captured on film if Sheridan was indeed telling the truth.

  Nikki looked deep into Blair’s blue eyes. He was the definition of clean-cut and wholesome, even if his reputation said otherwise. She could feel her own tears ready to fall as she gazed deep into the windows of his soul. Did he genuinely believe his own destruction wouldn’t happen? As if he possessed some kind of superhero invincibility? She wasn’t sure.

  A sense of panic and urgency gripped Nikki and she leapt off the bed and ran towards the door of the suite. ‘I’m going to sort this. My father can’t fire you. You can’t lose anything because of me. I won’t allow it. He can’t destroy you, he can’t. I need to change his mind.’

  She flung the door open and ran from the suite, her tears already flowing as she ran down the corridor to the elevator. The doors were already open where someone had just vacated the lift. She needed to see Julian. To persuade him their time together had meant something even if it had ended so badly. Yes, he could take out his anger on her, but he had to leave Blair alone, persuade Sheridan to leave Blair out of this. It had nothing to do with him. She guessed Julian would be with her father in one of the Velvet offices. She would find out from reception. She needed to sort this now, before it was too late.

  She entered the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. The doors shut just as she saw Blair running after her, sprinting towards the lift and calling her name. He was still wearing nothing more than a towel.

  47

  As a headshot, Heather Stoneham and toddler ‘Coral’ made for the picture-perfect vision of mother-and-daughter bliss. The beautiful woman, young and vibrant, entering into the joyous steps of motherhood with a rosy-skinned, button-nosed bundle of cherubic innocence clutched in her arms. If a photographer had wandered into Heather’s St Lucia front room at that very minute and taken a snap it would have produced a shot that would melt the heart of anyone with the slightest maternal bone inside their body.

  The photo would have made motherhood look easy, the envy of hard-working mothers across the land: Heather’s hair naturally falling into place, her skin soft and glowing without the need for any make-up, her eyes possessing a sparkle that defied having to wake up endlessly in the night for feeding, constant nappy changes and a body that ached continually. ‘How does she do it?’ they would ask. How do any of those glamour-soaked, celebrity-magazine mothers do it? That’s not real, is it?

  Of course it isn’t. Just out of shot in the magazine pictures were teams of stylists, make-up artists, managers and fawning press assistants making sure that everything was indeed peachy and not a single flyaway strand of hair or an errant line of drool and dribble could be captured on film to spoil the perfection. Behind the camera told the real story.

  Had the imaginary photographer in Heather’s front room panned out, the full extent of the debris that lay across the floor would have been revealed. Clothes from her wardrobe were scattered everywhere – designer pieces she had ripped apart to try and form some kind of makeshift outfit to wrap around the child. When Heather had taken her from the beach she was wearing no more than a swimsuit and that had been damp from the surf. Cartons of milk and juice were strewn across the floor too. ‘Coral’ must have been thirsty. She needed to drink and milk and a few cartons of juice were all that seemed to be in the fridge. A few tins lay around too after Heather had tried to feed the girl different things. What did little girls eat? She wasn’t sure, but she’d found some tinned fruit and some peanut butter in one of the cupboards. It had been Max’s favourite. Surely Coral would like it too. She hadn’t, as a discarded spoon still heaped high with peanut butter proved, the sticky contents already staining the crisp white of the rug beneath Heather’s bare feet.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a picture-perfect scene after all. Maybe the last thing it showed was maternal bliss. It showed a child, but one who was missing her own mother, a mother who was going out of her mind with worry as to where her precious little girl had gone. A little girl who began to cry, tears that wouldn’t stop as she sat clutched in a stranger’s arms: a little girl who wanted her mummy.

  The scene also showed a woman who was trying to live out a fantasy, someone who had had so much to look forward to just a short time ago. Someone who had smiled so widely her face could barely contain it as she discovered that she was with child, yet who’d had that smile mercilessly ripped away from her for good by the cruelties of life. A woman who didn’t really understand what was going on around her; a woman who had momentarily lost her mind. When it happened she didn’t know. How it happened she didn’t know. And right now she didn’t know how to try and stop the little girl clutched in her arms from crying. Unhappiness was not part of the fantasy.

  A loud knock sounded at the door. Heather heard it over the cries of the child. She wouldn’t answer it. She didn’t need to. It was open. She’d be taking Coral out to play later, so there was no need to lock up. Heather didn’t think that was odd, th
ough others did, including one of her neighbours. She’d watched her walk into the house with the girl. A girl she’d never seen before, but one that she heard about shortly afterwards: a girl who had gone missing from the beach. People were talking, dread gripping the locality. The description fitted the girl she’d seen with Heather – poor, recently widowed Heather. The neighbour had been meaning to pop round to see how she was, but what was there to say? It was so hard and they weren’t that close. Maybe she’d pop over later. Just after she’d mentioned to the authorities about seeing Heather Stoneham with a young girl. It was probably just a coincidence, but best to be safe – the police would know how to deal with it.

  And now the police were knocking on Heather’s open front door. Fancy leaving it open – those were multi-million dollar properties. What was she thinking? The woman must be out of her mind.

  Which was just what the police found as they made their way into the front room of Heather’s house to see her sitting there with a bawling child on her lap and a mass of designer detritus littered all over the floor. They found a young woman who was out of her mind – with grief.

  48

  ‘And if anybody asks I’ll be at my home on Algonquin Island for a few days. You can forward any calls and messages to me there.’

  Julian Bailey was in the happiest of moods as he informed the Daisy Ridley lookalike behind Velvet Toronto’s reception of his plans for the next seventy-two hours, handing her his business card. Was that more than a professional sparkle in her eye as she told him to have a good time? He’d like to think so, and if he hadn’t already laid down the foundations for some sexual adventures in which to indulge once he hit the secrecy of his own home then he would maybe have asked the young beauty if she wanted to discuss career prospects behind closed doors. The combination of a tightly packed pair of breasts, straining beneath the cotton of her blouse, and the peachy mass of her ass inside her skirt were already causing Julian’s cock to twitch in lustful anticipation. He cast his gaze down to her name badge, conveniently perched on one of her fulsome breasts, and made a mental note of it for his next visit to Toronto: Missy Terranova. As she curled her full red lips at him and took the card from his grip, Julian knew that, given the opportunity, he would be more than happy to get a little messy with Missy and he didn’t think she would put up too much of a fight.

  ‘Well, Missy, I’ll see you soon.’ Julian laboured the last word and turned towards the hotel’s revolving door, his erection rising to attention a little awkwardly in his trousers.

  He was more than happy with the way things seemed to be working out. Sheridan Rivers had believed every word about his daughter Nikki and had no reason to believe for one second that Julian’s involvement was anything more than as the messenger of bad news. He was now in town to deal with Nikki and Blair Lonergan. Giving the DJ his marching orders was a bonus that Julian was lapping up. He had nothing against the man but if Nikki chose to replace him with a younger, hotter, more chiselled model then he was more than a little smug to think that his own pack of cards of experience, business knowledge and manipulative skills could trump Blair’s rock-hard abs and buns of steel every time. There was a lot to be said for life experience.

  Julian had to admit that he could see exactly what Nikki saw in the DJ though. He’d sampled bodies like that at gay saunas and at specialist ‘events’ experienced over the years and he had to admit there were times when he’d been just as inclined to enjoy nailing the chiselled musculature of a man as he did relishing the soft folds and curves of a woman. He’d once read that love was an ice-cream sundae with all the marvellous toppings and that sex was the cherry on top. Well, as far as Julian was concerned he just wanted the cherry and it didn’t really matter what flavour the ice-cream sundae was.

  His cock stiffened more as he wondered whether what Blair was packing between his legs was as impressive and pretty as his face. He guessed he’d never find out.

  Julian was just moving through the revolving doors at the front of Velvet Toronto as Sutton Rivers called his name across the lobby. He turned at the sound, staring at her and forcing a smile through the glass of the doors as it carried on turning and the warm air outside hit his face. He’d been hoping to head to his Algonquin Island home without seeing her again. Why had she followed him there? More than likely she was there for Nikki, but either way he had no intention of spending more time with her than necessary. And from the way she’d been looking at him during the confrontation between Nikki and Sheridan, it was obvious that she was looking for another bout of sexual gymnastics like they had shared in Barbados. Sex with Sutton was okay, especially if Julian needed no more than simply to empty his ball sack, but why settle for overcooked meat when there were fresher and tastier delights on offer, like Missy on reception or the straight-talking dominatrix, Mistress Jo-Jo, he had lined up via one of his favourite websites for a whip-cracking visit to his Canadian home in just a few hours’ time? Sutton was a dish that he was not overly keen to sample right now. But she was still the boss’s wife and that meant keeping her sweet.

  He exited the revolving door and stood in the warm early summer air as he waited for her to join him.

  As she reached Julian outside the hotel another cry of his name erupted from the lobby. It was Nikki, who had asked at reception if they knew of Julian’s whereabouts, to be informed by Missy that ‘Mr Bailey was just leaving’, pointing at the doors, where she had seen him standing with her mother.

  There was nothing unusual about a tearful Nikki chasing after Julian and Sutton. The hotel staff had seen many things since the hotel first opened some years earlier and emotional family issues were de rigueur, especially for the rich and famous, but what made the scene that unfolded a most strange one was the sight of superstar DJ Blair Lonergan, wearing only a towel, running barefoot across the lobby in pursuit of Nikki, having run down the hotel stairs in an attempt to see which floor Nikki’s elevator stopped at. She was distressed and Blair needed to be there for her, no matter what he was, or more to the point wasn’t, dressed in.

  A group of fans in the lobby, a permanent fixture in any venue where Blair was playing, screamed with delight as their hero ran after Nikki towards the hotel doors. Every pair of female eyes, and a few male ones too, opened widely in gleeful delight as they took in the athletic sight of Blair’s scantily clad torso. Oblivious to them all, he only had eyes for Nikki and followed her through the hotel doors to where she was now standing with Sutton and Julian. As he joined them, both Julian and Sutton, who now had her arms around her tearful daughter, scanned Blair’s hard body. Julian’s gaze appeared to linger a little longer than Sutton’s, a fact that didn’t escape Blair. The DJ suddenly felt a little self-conscious about his lack of attire.

  ‘Sweet Jesus Hercules, what the fuck’s going on here…’ It was Sutton who spoke.

  No one said another word as a loud, solitary bang cracked through the air outside the hotel. The screams of the fans were replaced by the screams of both Sutton and Nikki as they automatically dropped to the floor. What had caused the noise? Was it a car? Was it something else?

  It wasn’t just the two women who fell to the floor. Blair’s towel, which had been tied tightly around his waist when he’d left the hotel suite, finally unravelled as he flinched to the sound of the bang. Unable to stop it, it fell to the floor. He clutched his hands to his groin and bent down to join Nikki, placing one arm around her in protection as he clasped the other over his groin to cover his own modesty.

  He grabbed the towel and wrapped it back around himself. But not before Julian had checked out the sizeable appendage that swung between his legs – even bigger than he’d imagined just a few minutes earlier – and not before one of the gathered pap photographers had managed to snap a photo of Blair Lonergan au naturel. It was a photo that would definitely knock Kim and Kanye off the front cover of the next edition of The National Enquirer.

  Not that Blair cared. He wanted to know where the bang had come from. What was
it? It had suddenly transported him back to the horrific moment when he had witnessed the end of his best friend Cain’s life in the record shop. The flashback eclipsed everything, the horror wrapping itself around him.

  ‘Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?’ His words were aimed at Nikki but received by all.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Nikki. ‘Mom?’ She turned to her mother, eager to know that Sutton was not hurt.

  ‘I’m good, honey. But what in God’s name was that?’

  ‘Was it gunshot, a car backfiring? I don’t know,’ replied Nikki.

  The answer didn’t come until the three of them – Nikki, Blair and Sutton – went back into the hotel and up to Blair’s suite so that he could get dressed. Julian didn’t accompany them – he wanted to rush off, eager to head home and prepare for Mistress Jo-Jo’s visit. Anyway, he was sure it had been a car backfiring.

  Had he accompanied the trio back to the suite then he would have soon found out that it was something much more sinister than a car. He would have heard Nikki’s phone sounding as it lay on the bed, indicating the arrival of a message.

  She picked it up and read it.

  Enjoy that? Just a little friendly shot. Next time my aim won’t be so fucking generous. Pay up what I want, in fact make it double, or next time your boyfriend gets it right between the eyes.