Lovers and Liars: An addictive sexy beach read

by Nigel May

  Sheridan worked his way through the mass of ladies filling the tiny salon, the air heavy and cloying with the mix of fevered chatter and hair lacquer. One of the women pinched his backside as he squeezed past and let out a raucous laugh, revealing a set of bright, white teeth, one decorated with a pink gemstone. He recognised her as Rossella, one of the ‘working girls’ who often frequented the salon to have her hair fixed. Not that he’d employed her services, but Sutton had told him about her mother and the girls who had rallied around Pasinetta and young Sutton in their hour of need. He winked at Rossella as he scooted past her. She replied with a belly laugh.

  Sheridan pushed open the door at the back of the salon, which led to a small kitchen-cum-office area. It was tiny, yet still able to house a small table and a much-needed kettle; this was where Sutton and Pasinetta would sit to try and organise the bookings that were coming in. Beyond the kitchen was another door that opened on to a small backyard. As the kitchen was empty Sheridan assumed that Sutton was outside. He pushed the far door to find out. There she was, leaning against the chicken-wire fence on the far side of the yard. She stood in a small spot of sunshine, her face bathed in the warmth of the day as she buried her head in a glossy magazine. It was one that had been left at the salon by a customer, full of pictures of celebrities and beautiful people showing off their guitar-shaped swimming pools at their glamorous abodes in the Hollywood Hills. Decadence danced off every page. Sutton was lost in wonderment as she stared at it and didn’t even hear the sound of the door being pushed open or see Sheridan standing there.

  ‘Penny for them?’ said Sheridan.

  She looked up and smiled immediately at the sight of Sheridan standing there, the man who she hadn’t really stopped thinking about since their first encounter in the diner. There was such a spark between them, it was almost red-hot, and even though she could feel her cheeks flood with colour every time she stared at his handsome face, she knew that he cared for her too. There must be some reason for this young international playboy to tear himself away from the VIP parties and high-powered business jaunts he told her about – just like the life she read about in the magazines – to visit the somewhat grubby circle of existence in which she moved in her native New York.

  Why else would he keep coming back if he didn’t find her attractive? He showed her how much he cared for her with his actions, buying her little gifts and taking her to nice shops and restaurants that she had only ever dreamt of. They had kissed and made out but their intimacy as yet had not been taken to its full capacity. She longed for it to be, but at such a tender age and at such an early stage of their relationship they had taken their time. But she hoped, guessed and knew that very soon it would happen. Despite their vast differences Sutton Nash knew there was definitely something between her and Sheridan that she had never experienced with any other man. They got each other; two links of the same chain. One may have been made of the richest and finest metal and the other already tarnished by life’s wear and tear but the two of them were somehow strongly joined together.

  On seeing Sheridan Sutton dropped the magazine to the floor and ran towards him. No words were spoken as they hugged, Sutton wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could. She held him for what seemed like the longest time before allowing him to break free of her grasp.

  ‘Well, that was definitely worth the eight-hour flight,’ said Sheridan, a smile spreading across his features.

  ‘I didn’t know when you would be here again,’ replied Sutton.

  ‘I told you I’d come back, didn’t I? I always do.’ Sheridan smirked and took Sutton’s face in his hands, bending to kiss her on the lips again. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  It was true. Sure, there had been many a party and many a woman – he was a normal red-blooded twenty-year-old after all – but none of them could quite give him what he saw when he gazed into the eyes of Sutton. In their eyes he could see lust, greed, want and a need to be with the name that everyone was talking about, a need to be basking in the warm glow of the new hot kid in town. But with Sutton, none of that mattered. She didn’t understand his world, yet she craved it. She longed to be part of his empire but in a way that the other, more privileged girls would never understand. With Sutton there would be a gratitude for the life that Sheridan could provide. With the other girls it would be an expectance, a life of which they could easily become bored. With Sutton, there would be an exuberance of excitement, a wide-eyed joy of things that he could show her. Things that he thought she deserved to see. Why shouldn’t she be in the pages of those celebrity magazines she so obviously adored? He could make that happen and that made Sheridan Rivers a very happy man. It gave him the power to please and the power to always be the dominant force. With a woman like Sutton by his side he could be exactly what he wanted to be and do exactly what he wanted to do, he could be top dog.

  Which is why he had made a decision. If he was to mould Sutton into the woman he wanted and needed, then he had to make her his as soon as he could. He’d been thinking about it on the flight from the UK. He thought about it when he’d been picking the perfect diamond ring at the shop back in London. He’d been thinking about it as he flirted with the brunette, full-bodied check-in girl at Heathrow Airport, the one who flashed more than a generous stretch of thigh in his direction when she served him his ‘Air à la carte’ 36,000 feet up later.

  Sheridan knew that he was making the right choice, for many different reasons. Love was merely one of them.

  ‘I have something to ask you,’ he stated.

  ‘What?’ There was a note of worry in Sutton’s reply. Was the man who had already brought so much to her life in such a short space of time about to turn 180?

  ‘I was just wondering if…’ Sheridan reached into his pocket as he spoke and couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in gleeful anticipation as he looked at Sutton’s youthful confusion. He paused for a few seconds and took her by the hand, leading her back to where the one patch of sunshine in the backyard was still shining on the discarded magazine. She was almost standing on its pages as he continued to speak.

  ‘If you would…’ Sheridan bent down on one knee and held the box up to his young girlfriend. He had been intending to do this later, at a swanky restaurant or some romantic spot around the city, but somehow here in the grimy dirt and normality of the salon backyard, the timing seemed just right.

  He flipped open the lid of the box to reveal the diamond ring. It was suitably enormous to light up the entirety of Sutton’s face as she gazed down at it.

  ‘… marry me?’

  For a moment silence filled the air as a young Sutton felt every moment of her short life spin inside her head. Her upbringing, her despair at losing her mother, the kindness that Pasinetta showed her every moment of every day, the dealings with her boss at Dirty Dick’s. All of it blurred into an explosion of experience that had led to the moment she found herself at now. She blessed the day that Sheridan Rivers walked into her life. She didn’t know why he loved her, she didn’t know if she ever would know, but she just knew that he did. She could see it in his eyes as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

  Sutton shifted position and felt the magazine pages rustle beneath her feet. She looked at the image on the page. A man and a woman, dressed in their finery, posing alongside their bearskin rug and fancy marble fireplace in their million-dollar home; hair immaculate, nails done. Looking good and feeling great, no doubt. It was what she wanted. After all she’d been through it was what she believed she deserved. That could be her on the page. Standing alongside Sheridan Rivers. She couldn’t think of a better man to be with her; she doubted there would ever be a better man.

  Sutton cried out with the euphoria of what was flowing through her veins. It was her squeals of jubilation that brought the ladies who had been in the salon spilling out onto the yard, Pasinetta leading the way, closely followed by Rossella and the rest of the group.

  ‘What the hell is going on out here? You can hear your
screams at the top of the Twin Towers,’ said Pasinetta.

  Not that any of the women needed to guess for long. Sutton, tears streaming down her obviously elated face, held out her hand for all to see.

  A bout of cooing erupted from the women as Pasinetta and the group tottered across the yard in their heels to inspect the bling and sweep the newly engaged couple off their feet.

  Sheridan felt himself gripped in yet another hug, this time from Rossella and at least three of the women who had been in the salon. Towels still lay draped around their necks and some still had wet hair from where they had obviously left their posts mid-session on hearing Sutton’s cry. He couldn’t help but smile as sets of lips began crushing against his skin, offering congratulations.

  He liked the women. He knew they were whores, Sutton had told him, but he didn’t care: sex was sex. If they could make some money from selling their bodies then who was he to judge? It didn’t make them any less of a person. Who said unions couldn’t be based on finances? He wasn’t marrying poor ghetto girl Sutton Nash just because he loved her, this was a different kind of love to any emotion he felt for the women he was having sex with. He would always need women for sex, he knew that – affairs would be plentiful, that was a given. But what Sheridan also needed was a wife who would be exactly what he needed her to be: someone with drive and ambition and a thirst to better herself, a life partner. Maybe not an equal, but someone who would always worship him and be by his side: someone to be there when he needed her.

  Marrying Sutton was the right thing to do. She would be very grateful to be Mrs Sheridan Rivers. It would help her live the dream, a dream that financially she could never have achieved without him. There would be a pre-nup, of course – he’d see to that. But Sutton was beautiful, naïve, innocent, feisty and his for the taking. He loved her and couldn’t wait to make her his wife.

  Yes, who was Sheridan to judge the ladies smothering him with kisses? He was more similar to them than they realised.

  52

  Julian Bailey’s body was found by a dog walker in the last few seconds of darkness before the dawn, hanging from a tree on Snake Island, one of the islands adjacent to his home off the mainland. A belt was hung around his neck and attached to a thick branch in a dense area of woodland. Julian, who according to police had been hanging there for at least thirty-six hours, had died due to a fatal gunshot wound delivered to his temple at close proximity. Death would have been instantaneous. Quite why the man was hung from a tree was not known. Whether he had been shot and then hung or vice versa was not known either.

  It had taken a few hours for the body to be identified. Officers knocking door to door had eventually pieced together the clues that the body was indeed that of businessman Julian Bailey. A neighbour had seen him return home and when no answer came from his house, suspicions were raised. It was known that he worked for Velvet Hotels and it was down to Sheridan Rivers to identify the body.

  The death of a friend or colleague can never come at the right time, but for Sheridan the timing of Julian’s death could not have come at a worse time. His best friend, killed in such a brutal and senseless way, at the very moment when Sheridan’s own life had suddenly unhinged itself. Right now he could have really done with a friend and ally by his side, he had never felt more alone. He was the head of such a huge empire, the man at the forefront of billion-dollar deals, yet he could number those close to him on the fingers of one hand.

  Nikki had betrayed him and Sutton rightly hated him, as would Heather too if Sutton told her the truth behind the crash in Crete. He prayed that she wouldn’t. And now Julian was gone. For the first time in decades Sheridan Rivers disliked himself. For a man who could normally only see the good in himself, proud of his cunning and cleverness, his chest swollen with swagger, he felt deflated and at a loss.

  But he was determined not to let it show. The fight in Barbados was not far off and he needed to be strong. As strong as the action that would happen in the ring, as strong as a prize boxer. He hadn’t come so far in life to watch it all unravel now, no matter how much he was hurting on the inside.

  No doubt Sutton would be hurting too. She had cared for Julian but she was dealing with Heather. Sheridan considered phoning her, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. He had neither the care nor the courage. He knew she’d be in pain.

  What Sheridan didn’t know was just how much…

  53

  They say killing is not as easy as the innocent believe. Well, killing was becoming easier and easier for Nikki’s blackmailer. In fact the more he did so, the more of a rush it was giving him.

  How many lives had he taken during his decades on earth? He reckoned it must be approaching double figures now. And his latest kill had been his finest yet. He had done it with such drama.

  The ferry to the island and stalking his prey en route had been a fine way to start. Like a hunter spotting its vulnerable target and striking when it least expected.

  He could have just settled for the bullet between the eyes. That had worked for him on countless occasions. How many backstreet brawls had ended with some lowlife getting pumped with lead to guarantee their silence? That was how scum like him usually worked. Someone pisses you off, treads on your toes, threatens your turf, then bang, they go down. Dead mouths can’t spill the beans. Period.

  But something about the killing of Nikki Rivers’s boyfriend had made him want to add a little more artistic flair. What she was doing with a fella twice her age was beyond him. But she obviously was, judging by the way he’d whispered so seductively in her ear at that interview at the hotel. Not that the blackmailer had been listening – he was too busy trying to catch Nikki’s eye. Had he bothered to listen he would have known that Blair Lonergan was Nikki’s man, not some forty-plus businessman.

  His text to Nikki had obviously scared the shit out of her. Double the amount he had originally asked for had landed in his account and for now, all was well. Except for with Nikki’s older man, of course. He could have been spared but she needed to know that her blackmailer couldn’t be messed with, that he was a master at what he did and deadly with it. She should have learnt that when she ran into him and his cronies – literally in one poor guy’s case – on that fateful night in Harlem. Luckily for the blackmailer, that death was the gift that just kept on giving. And Nikki’s latest offering, late though it was, was gratefully received. And even though it was enough to tide him over for a good while, he knew that he would be knocking on her door for another handout in the near future. He hadn’t finished playing with his prey just yet.

  Now, what to spend his latest wad of cash on? He’d been browsing the Net back at his apartment in New York. Well, he was going to get a new leather designer belt for starters. He’d used his old one – not that it had been designer – to string Julian up in the tree.

  The belt had been an impulse move. When he’d gunned down Julian, he could have left the body there, but something stirred inside him, telling him to give the kill a little more flair. Didn’t hunters display their animal heads on the wall for a reason? Sure they did – to boast about their hunt. He needed to do the same.

  He’d grabbed the body and moved it, wearing gloves so as not to leave any fingerprints, to a nearby island. Five minutes’ walk was all, carrying the corpse in his arms. It was mid-evening and the sun was fading; there was hardly anyone around. It was easy. The original plan had been to dump the corpse in scrubland but when he saw the trees something made him want to display his kill in a more impressive way. He removed his belt, wiped it down thoroughly to remove any lingering prints, fastened it around the corpse’s neck and then hung it from the tree. As he left the body and walked back to the ferry, he was still smiling. Killing was definitely getting easier and it was becoming a lot more fun, especially if you put some flair into it. Surely it was what someone as fashionable as Nikki Rivers would expect in the killing of her boyfriend?

  Nikki and Blair had been on their way back to Barbados when news of
Julian’s death broke. Nikki already knew when her father called her – she had seen it on Fox News. She had been loath to take his call but she guessed he was phoning to inform her, and for the two minutes of the call they talked as if whisked back in time to before her betrayal, before the threat of the will and before his ‘dismissal’ of Blair and order that the DJ leave her alone. For a few moments all that mattered was the tragic news that Julian was dead.

  Nikki was sad about it. Despite everything that had happened recently between her and Julian, no one deserved to die in such a brutal way. As she hung up from her father, signing off with a ‘Thanks for letting me know, Dad’ and ‘I’m sorry, I know how much Julian meant to you’ – pleasantries that could maybe add a temporary plaster to the gaping wound between them – she felt that perhaps there was a glimmer of hope that things could be rectified between them.