Lovers and Liars: An addictive sexy beach read

by Nigel May

  It was moments after the phone call with Sheridan that her phone sounded again. Nikki, who was seated in one of the Velvet private jets, looked across at Blair on the other side of the plane, headphones on, listening to a Bieber album track he’d been asked to remix.

  Nikki had been worried about taking one of the jets, especially with Blair on board, after the altercation with her dad, but Sutton had told her to use them as she was, to quote her mother, ‘still a Rivers through and through and no amount of bullshit threatening from your father will ever change that’.

  This time the sound of her phone was a text from her blackmailer. What she read shocked her to the core.

  Thanks for the cash. Pity it was too late to save your boyfriend. Guess he won’t be whispering sweet nothings in your ear now, will he? Too busy hanging around all by himself.

  The truth of Julian’s death struck Nikki like a Hatton Eden right hook. The blackmailer had obviously thought that Julian was way closer to her than he really was. Two thoughts entered her head. The first was, oddly, that Julian had sniffed his last-ever pair of panties. The second, much stronger, was gratitude that nothing had actually happened to her real boyfriend. Losing Blair would be too much to bear.

  Nikki’s blackmailer put his phone back on the table in his New York apartment, having sent her his text. That was suitably dramatic too. Too busy hanging around – that had been a nice touch. He moved his mouse and watched as the computer screen jumped back into life.

  Now, what to buy…

  54

  With less than a fortnight to go until the big fight in Barbados, Hatton Eden’s star had never shone higher or brighter. He was on the brink of the biggest bout of his career. The Main Man was ready to defend his title and the countdown to the Belter in the Swelter was on.

  His training had been going well. Better than before the Vegas fight in which he had gained his welterweight title the year before. Every sinew, muscle, tendon and joint seemed to be working in perfect, harmonious glory. He was strong and fluid in his movements as he trained in the gym, sparred with his manager Fidge Carter and the fighters brought in to practise with him and jogged along the beaches of Barbados, now fully acclimatised to the heat of the Bajan summer.

  Messages of support had come to him from all across the globe. The Bulgarian president, with whom Hatton had spent time back in his homeland before heading to the States and on to Barbados for the fight, had recorded a special video message bestowing the good wishes of his nation upon him. Celebrity well-wishers from the worlds of Hollywood, music and sport and even some of the more fashionable members of royal families around the world had sent messages of good luck.

  Endorsements and advertisements featuring Hatton were everywhere. His face stared out of everything from fizzy drink cans through to tan maximiser. And there was already talk of his rags-to-ringside life story being turned into the next big boxing flick in Tinseltown, following in the tradition of Raging Bull, Southpaw and Rocky, with stars like Eddie Redmayne and Liam Hemsworth mooted to play him.

  Everything was on course to ensure that Hatton went down in history as one of the most successful boxers of all time. And naturally every seat in the specially built arena at Velvet Barbados was bought, paid for and ready for a billion-dollar, sell-out evening of entertainment. Whether the bout lasted two minutes or two hours was inconsequential – everybody involved would be raking in the cash. There would be no losers, which was a fact that Sheridan Rivers was keen to share with the boxer and his manager as he brought them up to date with everything that was happening in the build-up to the sporting showdown.

  ‘You’re going to be richer than the rest of your fucking country put together after this fight, Hatton!’ laughed Sheridan as he faced the two men seated the other side of his desk at Velvet Barbados.

  ‘I am proud of my country, Mr Rivers. Please don’t use bad words about it.’ Hatton was not Sheridan’s biggest fan to begin with and dropping the F-bomb in the same sentence as his beloved homeland was not helping matters, as his trainer Fidge Carter was quick to notice.

  ‘It’s a fabulous country, Mr Rivers, you should go there one day,’ he remarked.

  ‘Never been top of my list, really,’ sneered Sheridan. ‘I must try and get there at some point, I suppose. Maybe see about a Velvet Sofia or something. I’ll have Julian set up a…’ His words tailed off as he realised what he was saying. Even though it had been a short while since Julian Bailey had died he was still not used to the fact that his best friend and right-hand man was no longer around.

  He’d flown to the UK for Julian’s funeral. He had expected Sutton to accompany him but she had refused but he didn’t ask why – he was keeping his wife at arm’s length and doing whatever she wanted right now. She had brought Heather back to Barbados with her from St Lucia and, as yet, his wife had not mentioned Sheridan’s confession to his youngest daughter. He prayed she never did. But he wasn’t sure. For the moment Sutton was someone he needed to keep sweet, even if she did seem to be in the blackest of moods. Who could blame her? She held him responsible for the death of not only Max Stoneham, but also their unborn grandchild. It was a fact he still hated himself for but was trying to push from his mind with the preparations for the boxing match.

  Fidge noticed that Sheridan’s words tailed off before the end of the sentence. He had heard about Julian’s death – not that the murderer had yet been found – and even though he didn’t know the man personally he was keen to offer his condolences.

  ‘We were really sorry to hear about your colleague, Mr Bailey. He seemed a great chap,’ offered Fidge.

  ‘Thank you.’

  But Hatton was in no mood to offer any sympathy and was still keen to defend his homeland.

  ‘Bulgaria is the oldest country in Europe, Mr Rivers. The first computer in the world, just like the one you’ve been counting your dollars on, was invented by a Bulgarian and the fancy wristwatch you wear, well, guess what? The first digital one was invented by a Bulgarian too so maybe it should move to the top of your list a bit quicker.’ These were obviously facts that Hatton was very proud of.

  ‘Yes, Hatton, but a computer would be nothing without the internet and that was invented by an Englishman, just like myself,’ countered Sheridan.

  ‘And one of the most successful things on the Net is Facebook, created by Mark Zuckerberg, who is named after his Bulgarian grandfather, Marko. His grandfather emigrated from my country in 1940,’ continued Hatton, determined not to be outdone. ‘So take that…’

  It was Fidge who tried to bring the awkward badinage to an end. ‘Okay, fellas, it’s not you two taking each other on in the ring, is it, so let’s cool it, shall we?’

  Sheridan curled his lip as he stared at the two sportsmen, obviously a tad aggrieved. ‘I bet you two boys have been training hard, haven’t you? Enjoying the new gym and all. I trust you like the amenities?’

  ‘It’s an awesome gym,’ said Fidge.

  ‘And you definitely put it through its paces, didn’t you?’

  ‘I’m the reigning world champion, of course I work hard! That is how you become the best,’ said Hatton.

  ‘But you boys work hard and play hard too, do you not?’ Sheridan smothered a suggestive tone over his words.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Fidge, an ominous cloud of where the conversation was going passing over him. It was clear from the line of sweat that suddenly appeared across Hatton’s forehead that he was feeling the same too.

  ‘Let’s just say that it doesn’t matter whether a computer comes from your country or mine, you can feed a hidden camera to it no matter what. And you’d be surprised at what you see on there.’ Sheridan was enjoying playing with them. After everything that had happened recently it felt good to be in control of something, even if it was just baiting for baiting’s sake. If Hatton was going to get shitty with him, then bring it on, world champion or not! Sheridan would be the victor.

  Hatton leapt to his feet and raised his fist, po
inting it in the tycoon’s direction. Whether he would have followed through with his threat was never found out, as Fidge stood up and grabbed his client’s fist.

  ‘More physical contact between you two boys? You can’t get enough, can you? They always say you lot are at it like rabbits, can’t keep your hands off each other. Well, before you start getting shirty again with me, Mr Main Man, I suggest you think about what you’ve got to lose if my little hidden-camera video went viral. How many endorsements would you stand to lose then?’

  ‘Why the fuck would you do that?’ It was Fidge who asked, still holding onto Hatton’s fist. If Hatton landed one on Sheridan the lawsuit would be a seven-figure one and that was something both men could do without.

  ‘Why? Why not more like? Get this fight out of the way and all bets are off! If Great Uncle Bulgaria here wants to get all arsey with me then he can do, but I think you’ll find I hold the trump card. Any dirty footage of you two leaked online can just be from a stray mobile phone. No one needs know it was a Velvet hidden camera. I’d deny everything and whip the camera out of there before you can say Judy Garland – or whatever the gayest equivalent is to her that you have in your country.’

  ‘You fucking prick!’ spat Hatton.

  ‘We’re leaving,’ said Fidge. ‘Hatton, do not rise to the bait.’

  ‘But he is threatening us…’

  ‘Just leave it.’

  Fidge pushed Hatton towards the office door to avoid any further confrontation. He could feel him shaking as he did so – he suspected it was a mixture of fear and rage.

  ‘You won’t do it. What would you gain?’ said Fidge, staring at Sheridan as he manoeuvred Hatton from the room.

  ‘Satisfaction at winning… Nothing more, nothing less. It’s not every day you can say you beat a world champion. I have more money than I ever need, but it would be rather amusing to see how the world reacts to you two being a pair of queers.’

  ‘Fuck you!’ Those were Hatton’s parting words.

  ‘Happy training, lads! And no holding hands on the beach, okay? Barbados isn’t too comfortable with that and I can’t say I blame her.’

  ‘It’s not our fault if some of the world is still totally backwards, is it? Like Hatton said, fuck you, Sheridan!’ countered Fidge.

  As the door closed behind them Sheridan smiled to himself. He hadn’t been expecting that battle, but seeing as Hatton was being such a prick, in his opinion, and as the camera footage would be such a hot news story, should he choose to share it, why not threaten it? They were sportsmen after all and Sheridan always thought there was something sporting about proving yourself to be the champion, no matter how you did it.

  55

  ‘Well, you certainly put the heat into mojito!’ smiled Blair Lonergan as he poured a waterfall of minty liquid into Nikki Rivers’s glass. ‘Especially wearing that leopard-print bikini. If your mother and sister weren’t with us I would be undoing the straps and working my way down your body right now.’

  ‘Then I suggest you try and avert your gaze,’ smiled Nikki, flashing a glance in Sutton and Heather’s direction to make sure they weren’t looking before reaching down to give her boyfriend’s hardening cock a squeeze underneath the board shorts he was wearing. ‘We may be a close family but there is a limit, even for me, and I have no intention of getting hot and horny with you in front of those two! Besides, this sun would fry our naked bodies to a crisp. Can you pass me the sunscreen?’

  The heat beaming down from the Bajan sky was indeed intense, as it always was in the Caribbean at that time of year. Blair and Nikki had been invited by Sutton to spend the day with her and Heather on board the Rivers family’s catamaran, which was constantly moored in Bridgetown harbour when not in use. The boat was luxurious in the extreme and Nikki had leapt at the chance to spend a day doing nothing more taxing than snorkelling with turtles, trying to tickle brightly coloured fish beneath the surface of the sapphire waters and sipping cocktails to a calypso beat with her mum, sister and the man she was falling in love with.

  After everything that had happened recently, Sutton had been insistent that the women of the Rivers clan spend some quality time together. Julian Bailey’s death, the family feud with Sheridan, Heather’s breakdown and the devastating news that Heather had lost a baby had all occurred in horrifically rapid succession and with the boxing match looming on the horizon Sutton had taken it upon herself to try and bring the family together and be there for each other in as much of a united front as possible. The eyes of the world would be upon them all in a matter of a few short days and as the female head of the family, always the strongest in Sutton’s opinion, it was down to her to try and make the family waters as calm as the Caribbean Sea their catamaran was currently skimming across. A day at sea away from the paps, who were already beginning to gather at Velvet Barbados, hoping to spot Hatton Eden’s every sporting move as well as the tabloid-friendly cast list of one of the most famous business families on earth, was just what Sutton demanded. And it also gave her the chance to try and quell the hatred she was feeling towards her husband. Ever since she had learnt the news about Heather’s baby she had been unable to be in the same room as Sheridan, let alone look him in the eye. And losing Julian had made her hate him even more. She blamed him for his death; she couldn’t help herself, despite having no evidence to suggest that he had had any kind of involvement – she just blamed him for everything. Sutton’s brain was frying with its own exclusive brand of toxicity towards Sheridan.

  As a mother, she needed to be there for her daughters right now. Despite any amorous feelings she’d harboured for Julian, they must remain a secret. Her daughters came first and they needed her.

  Nikki had been more than grateful to her mother for inviting her and Blair to join Sutton and Heather. It gave the female side of the family a wonderful chance to see just how much Blair meant to her. Blair’s reputation was one of womanising and rock-star hedonism and even though her mother seemed to appreciate their union she was determined to let Sutton see that he was much more than just a Jack the lad who could spin a good tune. He had a caring side, a vulnerable side that was revealing itself to Nikki a little more each and every day, peeling back like the layers of a delicious fruit. She knew from the beating of her own heart that she had never felt like this before. Blair had burrowed his way into her emotions and Nikki was beyond grateful.

  ‘Thank you,’ she smiled, taking the sunscreen from Blair as he handed it to her. It was more than a throwaway gratitude, her mind obviously occupied with more than the necessities of topping up on her SPF. But Blair was able to read into it.

  ‘For what? Are you okay? You seem a little preoccupied. Not surprising really, given everything that’s been going on.’

  ‘Just for being here. For being with me. You’re the only good thing in my life right now. Well, you and those two over there…’ Nikki motioned to Sutton and Heather, both of whom were sipping their drinks on the far side of the catamaran. ‘I’m just so grateful to have you with me. To be able to hold you.’

  She pulled him close, clasping him to her, her grip a little tighter than was necessary. She hadn’t told him about the mistaken identity and the fact that Julian had been killed by her blackmailer; she knew she would have to do so and she was worried something might happen to Blair, but for now she couldn’t say anything. Her mind wouldn’t allow her to. Her first thought when she learnt of Julian’s death was to go to the police – confess all and nullify any risk to Blair. But she couldn’t. She would go down for crushing the man beneath the wheels of her Lexus back in New York. Especially as she’d been hiding it for months. Going inside for a hit-and-run would kill her, but worse still, it would crush her mother. For now, the sensible thing was to keep quiet, keep her love for Blair away from the public eye and hope that eventually the blackmailer would stop asking for money, though she knew just how fruitless and unlikely that sounded.

  ‘You know I’m here for you, despite what your dad thinks of me,’
said Blair. ‘Thankfully your mother seems to like me. She managed to blag my job back after all. Losing the boxing gig would have cost me millions. Not that I’d care, if it meant I could stay with you.’

  ‘The man’s a bully,’ said Nikki.

  ‘And he’ll get what he deserves. Karma will bite him on the ass and punish him,’ replied Blair, automatically moving his hand to fiddle with the necklace around his neck.

  ‘I’ll make sure it does,’ agreed Nikki.

  For a moment there was a silence, both of them treading water in the sea of their dislike for Sheridan Rivers.

  It was Blair who restarted the conversation, keen to steer away from the blackness that suddenly seemed to be twisting itself around them.

  ‘We’ll get through all of this, you and I. Together.’ There was a beauty in the way he’d split the sentence. ‘Invincible.’

  ‘I’ll pay back the money. I already have things lined up that will bring some of my own cash into the mix,’ she told him.

  ‘You’re not selling that hot body of yours by doing Playboy, are you?’ grinned Blair, placing his hands on her butt cheeks and cupping their roundness.

  ‘No, but they have asked me countless times, funnily enough,’ smiled Nikki. ‘I think my mum would have something to say if I was butt-naked in some glamour magazine. I’ve done countless nude shoots à la Kim Kardashian, all arty and silhouetted cleavage in the midst of the Nevada Desert or lying on a Barbados beach, but I draw the line at showing the delights of what’s in there.’ Nikki pointed to her bikini bottoms, hardly more than a triangle of fabric covering what was necessary. ‘I’ll save that for you…’ she teased.

  ‘So what’s lined up?’ enquired Blair.

  ‘Well, I’ve told my agent that I will consider pretty much anything and so far the offers that have been coming in are pretty good and I can fit them in with my Velvet work too – or at least what’s left of it. Celebrity MasterChef have said they’re interested in me and Ryan Seacrest is apparently up for working with me on a new reality series. Plus, I’ve been approached by a major hair company about launching my own range of extensions and hairpieces called, get this, Unbe-Weave-Able. Great name, eh?’ she laughed at its silliness. ‘And I was also thinking about what poor Max did on the shopping channel so I’ve instructed my agent to find me a fashion or handbag range that I can represent on air. If I can showcase it on Max’s channel, which of course I know I can, then at least I can talk about him too and keep his memory alive. I think Heather would like that.’