Outrageous Fortune

by Lulu Taylor

  Roberto leaned in to her so that she could see every dark grain of stubble on his face. ‘He doesn’t want any girl, does he? He wants the girl in the red sequins who sang like a screen siren and shook her booty like Beyoncé, don’t he? You’re the girl of his dreams and he’s not going to give up until he’s got you.’ He leaned back, smirking. ‘And that, babe, has got to be worth a lot of money. Congratulations! You’ve hit the jackpot, love. Just remember your old friend Roberto when you’re dripping in diamonds, that’s all!’

  Coco laughed. ‘Yeah, right,’ she said. But despite her outward insouciance, she felt a flicker of excitement. When one door closes, another one opens … Maybe this was fate stepping in to give her a helping hand. ‘Wanna go and have a fag? I’m bloody desperate.’

  38

  ‘CAN YOU TALK?’ Christophe’s voice came crackling down the line. Daisy was out of the hotel for once, walking through town on her way back from visiting wholesale fabric merchants. She’d submitted her ideas for the redesign of the Excalibur to the Craven Dalziel directors, and while they considered the overall concept, she was working on the details. She’d recruited a designer to help her but had got involved in every aspect, down to sourcing fabrics and negotiating a massive discount for buying in bulk. Every penny she saved would make her proposal more attractive, after all. The larger the return in proportion to the investment, the better. Daisy was confident that her new look would be a hit with customers, particularly business people, who wanted cleanliness, a decent level of comfort, and plain modern styling along with good Wi-fi and media access.

  ‘Yes,’ Daisy said. Her fingers felt chilled just holding her mobile to her ear. The temperature had taken a sudden dive and the grey skies were heavy with the promise of snow. Shop windows were festooned in Christmas decorations and people were muffled in scarves and hats. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I’ve got some good news. I won’t tell you now, though. Listen, it’s the directors’ Christmas dinner tonight. Would you come as my guest? I can tell you then.’

  Daisy didn’t know what to say for a moment, then she ventured, ‘But they’ll all know we’re together.’

  ‘They’ll have to sooner or later, won’t they? Besides, you’ll understand more later.’

  ‘All right. Yes, I’d love to.’ Daisy’s eye was caught by a boutique with a sweeping evening dress displayed in the window. ‘You could have given me a bit more notice! Goodness knows what I’ll wear. I’d better take the afternoon off and go shopping.’

  The dinner was held in a stunning Cotswolds hotel in a village outside Cheltenham. It had once been a Tudor manor house but was now a sumptuous place to stay.

  ‘This is wonderful,’ Daisy said, eyeing up the luxurious country-house style with its rich fabrics, beautiful antiques and immaculate finish. ‘I love what they’ve done here.’

  ‘Yes,’ Christophe said, walking beside her as they went through the foyer and into the library where pre-dinner drinks were being served. ‘This is one of ours, actually. We’ve just acquired it from the previous owner. He had three hotels, all beautifully done like this one, but hasn’t been able to make them work. We’re very hopeful, though.’ He smiled at her. ‘I’m glad you like it.’

  Christophe looked amazingly handsome in his dinner suit and black tie. Daisy felt a shiver of lust just looking at him, and when he leaned closer and murmured how gorgeous she looked tonight, the buzz of his voice in her ear sent waves of electricity over her skin.

  ‘Thank you. I wanted to look my best for you.’ She’d bought a midnight blue velvet cocktail dress that showed off her slim but voluptuous figure. She’d also splashed out on a pair of black heels, fifties-style, with a hidden platform and a black glittering buckle on the front.

  ‘This is beautiful,’ Christophe said, looking admiringly at the jewellery she’d pinned to her dress, at the neckline between her breasts. ‘Is it real?’

  ‘Oh, no!’ she said airily, and glanced down at it. ‘Just a piece of paste I found in a junk shop.’ Perhaps lying to Christophe has become second nature, she thought wistfully. The brooch was anything but fake, although she could hardly admit that. A girl like Daphne Fraser would be unlikely to own a vintage Van Cleef & Arpels design set with a small fortune in diamonds. She’d thought hard before taking it out of the box where she kept it, but tonight had seemed the right occasion. It sparkled on the dark blue velvet, sending out glints of multi-coloured light; the one thing of real value she’d taken from her old life.

  In the library, a roaring fire gave the room a comforting glow and the swags of ivy and holly wreaths, along with a sparkling Christmas tree in the corner, made everything very festive. The Craven Dalziel directors and their guests stood about, talking and sipping glasses of hot rum punch, mulled wine or egg nog. As soon as he spotted Daisy and Christophe, John Montgomery came over, looking distinguished in his dinner jacket.

  ‘Daphne, hello. How lovely to see you. Happy Christmas.’

  ‘Thank you, John,’ she said rather shyly. She hadn’t seen much of him since his last visit to the Excalibur and was aware that he must be clocking the fact that she and Christophe were now a couple.

  ‘You’ve done some excellent work lately, we’ve all been delighted with the way you’ve turned things round at the Excalibur.’ He smiled encouragingly at her. ‘Has Christophe told you the good news?’

  Christophe grinned. ‘Not yet. Why don’t you, John?’ He turned to Daisy, his eyes bright with happiness.

  Daisy looked at John, who smiled again.

  ‘Young lady, we like your plans for the Excalibur very much. In fact, we don’t see any point in refurbishing just one of our hotels in the way you suggest. We’ve decided to roll your vision out across all our town-centre and airport hotels.’

  Daisy gasped, hardly able to believe it. What an incredible vote of confidence in her ideas. ‘Oh, that’s marvellous!’

  ‘And that’s not all. We’d also like you to take charge of the project. But that will mean a promotion and leaving the Excalibur. You’ll need to think about it. We wouldn’t need you to start till after Christmas in any case.’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll want to do it,’ Daisy put in hastily, elated at the news.

  ‘I like your enthusiasm. Come in and see me in the New Year and we’ll discuss it then.’ John raised his glass to her. ‘Here’s to you, Daphne, and a very Happy Christmas. Now I must mingle, but no doubt I’ll see you later. And Christophe … it’s good to see you with a guest at last.’

  As he left, Daisy, pink-cheeked but delighted, turned to Christophe almost accusingly. ‘You knew! And you didn’t tell me!’

  ‘I wanted it to be as official as possible,’ he protested, laughing. ‘So you didn’t think it was just me who considers you extremely talented. Congratulations, darling,’ he said, putting his arm around her and dropping a kiss on her cheek. ‘You totally deserve it.’

  After the dinner, a lavish four-course affair in the hotel’s private dining room, there was dancing to a band. On the dance floor they clung together, their desire for one another growing stronger the longer they stayed. Christophe ran his hands along the smooth velvet of her gown, taking in the curves of her waist and hips, while Daisy put her arms around him, slipping them under his jacket so that she could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt. They danced staring up into one another’s eyes, each seeing the promise within, until Christophe said, ‘Let’s go outside and get some air.’

  They took their wine glasses out to the terrace where it was icy cold but refreshing after the humidity inside. They kissed for a while, laughing about the general drunkenness inside and the comical displays of dancing.

  ‘What a fabulous evening,’ Daisy said, feeling a little tipsy after several glasses of very good wine. She was filled with happiness. Her promotion meant that everything was proceeding perfectly. And now she had Christophe too. He hadn’t been part of the plan but he was the most marvellous bit of it all. ‘Thank you for bringing me.’ She stud
ied his handsome face. He looked rather brooding in the half light. ‘What did John mean earlier when he talked about you bringing a guest?’

  ‘Oh. That.’ Christophe frowned, his expression solemn. ‘I thought you might ask – and I decided that if you did, I would tell you. Do you remember I said once that I was a pilot? Well, the reason I stopped was because …’ His face darkened and he looked choked. There was a long pause and then he continued. ‘There was a terrible accident when I was at the controls. I had my own plane then, a small four-seater, and I was flying home for Christmas when I suffered from something called spatial disorientation.’

  Daisy stayed silent, realising that he was confiding something very significant to her.

  He looked away again, staring out into the night. ‘I was travelling in darkness and I had no sense of the external horizon. Without that, the senses can become very confused. You don’t know if you are turning left or right, or even if you’re upside down. I was reading my instruments, of course, but it happened so fast, and I had no clue …’ His voice broke on the word. Daisy put a hand on his arm to offer what comfort she could. ‘I couldn’t believe what I was reading, I was convinced I was at a safe altitude. I wasn’t. We hit a forest in Normandy at speed and … and Hélène, my girlfriend, was killed.’ He drew in a deep breath and released it. ‘I was taken out of the wreckage unconscious and with severe injuries. It took me a long while to recover from them, but I haven’t ever recovered from what happened to Hélène. I blamed myself, of course, and I’ve never flown again. I’ve never been able to open up to anyone about it.’ He turned back to look at her. ‘Until now.’

  ‘Oh, Christophe,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Oh, darling. You’ve suffered so much. I’m so sorry. What happened to Hélène was tragic, but it was an accident.’ She put her arms around his neck, and kissed him. ‘I love you,’ she whispered.

  He returned her kiss, slowly at first and then more passionately. In unspoken agreement, they left the party and went upstairs to Daisy’s room, stopping along the way to kiss intensely while she pulled off his bow tie and began to unbutton his dinner shirt. The power of Christophe’s story had heightened their desire, each feeling desperate for the other as soon as possible, needing the connection and the passion at once. They stumbled into the dimly lit hotel room, slamming the door behind them and falling on the bed, so eager for each other they could hardly wait. Christophe was hard already, his cock pressing against his trousers and eager to be free. He pushed Daisy’s dress up and made an appreciative noise at the sight of her thighs with their lacy stocking tops. She was wearing hold-ups with no knickers.

  ‘God, I’m glad you didn’t tell me that you didn’t have any underwear on,’ he said in a voice that rasped with lust. ‘I don’t think I could have lasted through dinner.’

  She laughed and tried to pull him to her, but he said, ‘Wait. You look delicious.’

  He sank down and began to cover her mound with kisses. She pulled in a sharp breath. The touch of his lips was electric and she couldn’t help her knees from falling slightly apart to allow him greater access. She could feel every nerve responding to him as the blood rushed to her pussy and made her feel as if her very heart was beating there. He began to explore her with his tongue as he ran his hands along her legs and up to the curve of her waist. She gasped again as he licked the hard bud of her clitoris, making her stomach contract with pleasure and waves of sensation flood out along her body. He began to tease it with his tongue, until he was making her shudder with delight and longing. She half wanted him to stop and half feared he might, but when he pulled away from her and began to kiss her mouth, devouring her with need, she knew that was what she wanted too.

  He pulled down the zipper of her dress and slid it down her body so that she was only wearing her black lacy bra and the hold-ups. Unable to take his eyes off her, he quickly stripped off the rest of his evening clothes and returned to her soft belly and the inviting mounds of her breasts with a murmur of pleasure. She reached down to touch his cock: it was ramrod stiff and, at the touch of her fingers, he moaned. She grasped it, feeling the heat emanating from it, and stroked it. She loved it, it felt almost as much hers as his, theirs to share.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ Christophe murmured in her ear. He nibbled her earlobe. ‘You’re too tempting …’

  She kissed him hard and guided him towards her. He moved between her thighs and hesitated for just a moment, the head of his cock pressing tantalisingly at her entrance. She sighed with longing, and wrapped her arms around his strong back. He pressed in, pushing up deep inside her and making her throw back her head with the pleasure of feeling him fill her up. ‘Christophe,’ she said, her voice caressing his name as she said it.

  ‘My darling …’ He kissed her neck and shoulders and lips as he moved slowly inside her.

  I don’t want this ever to stop, she thought, high on the sensations he was producing within her. She wanted to make love to him all night long. After all, they had no need to hurry. There were hours to spend luxuriating in each other’s body and the pleasure they could give one another, just the two of them, sighing and moving as one in the darkness.

  39

  ‘WELCOME, MISS HUGHES. This way, please.’

  Coco followed the maid across the marble-floored hallway and down a flight of stairs carpeted in thick beige wool pile. This house was incredible. She might be a Londoner but she certainly didn’t know this part of town, where terraces of huge white stucco mansions overlooked private gardens. She could tell it took a great deal of money to live in a place like this.

  The maid showed her to a seat outside a closed door. ‘Could you wait here, please? Miss Anderson will see you soon. Can I get you something? Tea, coffee, water?’

  ‘Nah, I’m fine.’ Coco sat down and fidgeted nervously as she looked about her. It was all done expensively: the deep, well-cushioned chair, the gilt-legged side table, the paintings in gilded frames on the walls. Spotlights glowed discreetly in the ceiling while small table lamps cast a warmer light over side tables.

  Five minutes later, the door beside Coco opened and a woman stepped out. She was in her late-forties, by the look of it, with dark hair pulled neatly back, a striking white streak at the front and ribbons of silver visible amid the black. She was wearing a navy suit with a smart white silk shirt and flat pumps. Her face seemed curiously unlined, as though years of showing no expression had left her unusually youthful. Coco recognised her as the woman she had met at the party, the one who had taken her details. ‘Miss Hughes? How nice to see you again. I’m Miss Anderson. This way, please.’

  Coco stood up and followed her into the office. Her nerves flickered into life again and she felt a little sick. The room beyond was incredibly neat and minimalist. There was little to be seen on the polished black shelves or the perfectly tidy desk. Miss Anderson gestured her to sit down while she took her own place in the chair behind the desk. When they were both settled, she folded her hands together and stared at Coco with a faint smile.

  ‘So, Miss Hughes. At last we’ve found you.’ Her voice was low and almost musical but like her face, it had no expression.

  ‘Yeah. Here I am!’ Coco said brightly.

  ‘I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve got a fair idea.’

  The other woman raised her eyebrows. ‘You have?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Coco nodded, jiggling one of her knees. She’d already worked it all out for herself. Well, it didn’t exactly take a genius. So she’d dressed carefully for the part, in a skin-tight black leather mini-skirt, a gauzy, leopard-print top over a black bra, and some high boots that laced up to her knees. She’d hoped she’d covered all the bases: sexy with a hint of some possible bondage or mild S&M, if that was what he liked.

  ‘Do tell,’ Miss Anderson pressed.

  ‘Well – it’s obvious, innit? Your boss saw me at the party and he fancies a bit.’ She shrugged. ‘Fair enough. But if you’re handling arrangement
s, then I have to say that I’ve been fucked over before and I want to make sure it’s all clear beforehand. I don’t want to be kicked back into the gutter again, all right?’

  ‘Ah, I see.’ Miss Anderson smiled a small joyless smile. ‘You have made the assumption that my employer wants you as a personal plaything. A toy, an indulgence, a maîtresse. You are hoping, perhaps, for the traditional trappings that come with such a position, such as fur coats, jewellery and silk pyjamas. I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid you’re going to have put that right out of your mind.’

  ‘Oh.’ Coco stared at her, puzzled. Why does she talk like that? A mattress? Bloody hell, what’s she on about?

  ‘In a short while, I will take you to meet my employer, Mr Dangerfield, but first there are a few things I must explain to you.’ Miss Anderson leaned towards her, her blue eyes suddenly flashing a warning. ‘What I’m about to tell you is a secret. It must remain entirely confidential, do you understand? I have here a letter that you must sign – it is a confidentiality agreement. Any sign that you have broken this agreement and … well, you will regret it. I’ll say no more than that.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Coco nodded, though inside she was scornful. What does this bitch know about anything? I’ve heard some threats in my time and I ain’t scared of much. But she was curious now. If she wasn’t being asked to provide sex for that gruesome old man, then what did they want from her? And why were they about to entrust her with some secret?

  Miss Anderson produced the letter and Coco signed it, scanning it first though she didn’t understand much as it was written in long words and legal-sounding language.

  ‘Good,’ Miss Anderson said, filing it away in her desk drawer. ‘Now. A few things you have to know before you meet Mr Dangerfield. He is a complicated man, but brilliant. A genius in his way. He is the son of Josef Dangerfield, who founded a very successful property and hotel business, beginning by buying bomb-sites in the south of London and building on them. That business is now a worldwide property empire and Mr Dangerfield oversees it. Such responsibility is a great burden for any man, though my employer carries it magnificently. However, he demands certain things from everyone in his life: utter loyalty is the main one. He needs total understanding too. Is that clear?’