Beautiful Creatures

by Lulu Taylor

  Octavia watched her sister go, tears in her eyes. It felt as if a chapter in her life was closing. But it’s what she wants, she told herself, and if she wants to leave me, what can I do about it?

  47

  In the car, Flora cuddled up to Otto and he put his arm around her, but they were both too tired to talk much. They were taken through the VIP channels at the airport, and quickly boarded the small, twelve-seater private jet.

  ‘I thought we might buy our own plane,’ Otto said idly as they settled themselves.

  ‘Do we need one?’ Flora asked, surprised.

  ‘Of course. I travel a good deal. I will look into it as soon as we get home. I shouldn’t have to slum it, should I?’ He smiled at her. ‘I’m sure you want me to travel in comfort.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I suppose so.’

  They took off a few minutes later, soaring out across London, and were over the sea within moments. The afternoon had turned grey and chilly, dark clouds falling low over the city, and the plane’s air conditioning made Flora feel cold. She shivered. Otto pulled out a business book and started to read, so she got one of the blankets from the overhead locker and wrapped it about herself. She thought back over her wedding day: it had been beautiful, all in all. Before long, she fell asleep.

  They landed at Munich airport and were met by a Range-Rover that drove them out of the city and into the countryside, heading for the Bavarian hills. It was dark now, and Flora snuggled into the back seat, another cashmere blanket wrapped round her, feeling both excited and calm at the same time. And it’s Christmas! she thought, remembering the gifts she had brought for Otto in her luggage. When would they open their presents? Tonight? Tomorrow morning? He sat in the front with the driver, talking in rapid German and laughing, seeming more animated than she had ever heard him.

  My husband, she thought, trying out the words again. Was that man in the front seat really her husband? He sounded like a stranger. But that’s exciting, amazing … we’ve got all our lives to get to know each other.

  She was asleep again when they finally pulled to a halt in front of Schloss Meckensberg.

  ‘Flora! We’re here,’ called Otto, jumping down from the car. He strode off to the front door, leaving her to blink sleepily, yawn, unwrap herself from the blanket and stumble out, while the driver unloaded their luggage from the back. She walked across the driveway to the open front door. Gravel crunched under her feet. She could see very little in the darkness, just a great black shape lit with yellow rectangles. A moment later she was walking through the enormous oak front door and into a stone hall with hammer beams in the ceiling. Otto was standing there, near an empty fireplace that was big enough to fit six grown men standing upright. All around the room hung shields, swords, daggers and other weapons. Apart from that it was remarkably bare, without even a rug on the stone floor. Where are the Christmas decorations? she wondered. She would have expected a Christmas tree in this great room, and a Yule log in the fireplace.

  Otto was talking to a middle-aged, plain-looking woman, his voice sharp and businesslike.

  ‘Ah, Flora,’ he said, seeing her. ‘We shall have some supper first. It is waiting in our room.’

  ‘Good,’ she said. ‘That sounds lovely.’ She smiled at the woman, who was observing her with interest. This must be the housekeeper, she decided. Flora wanted to seem as friendly and approachable as she could, so she made a small bow in the housekeeper’s direction. The woman returned the gesture with a nod of her head.

  ‘Come,’ said Otto curtly. He turned and marched from the room, calling over his shoulder, ‘They will bring the bags. Follow me.’

  They walked down a long stone-floored corridor lit only by the occasional wall lamp until they reached a winding staircase, still of the same dark grey stone without any floor covering. The air here was bitterly cold, as though it had never felt so much as a beam of sunlight. Up they went, footsteps tapping on the stone, round, and round until they reached a small, arched wooden door. Otto opened it, and led her along another corridor, carpeted this time but still dimly lit. It was hard to get much of an impression of the place as a whole.

  Except that it’s a real Gothic castle! Flora thought. She felt excited still, as though she were on some kind of adventure.

  ‘Our quarters,’ Otto said, opening another door with an old-fashioned iron latch on it. He entered and then stood to one side to allow her to pass. ‘Ah, they’ve made it ready for us.’

  Heavy brocade curtains were shut against the night outside, and a supper table laid for two glowed in the light of a pair of candles. A large dark-wood four-poster bed hung with more brocade curtains dominated the rest of the room.

  ‘Sit down, let’s eat,’ he said. ‘I’m sure we’re both hungry.’

  They sat down to the simple meal: black bread, rye bread, a selection of cold meats and cheeses and pickles. Otto poured them both a glass of red wine.

  Flora stared at it all a little anxiously. She wasn’t very hungry but he urged her to help herself so, in the interests of a harmonious end to her wedding day, she loaded her plate. She took a small biteful of the black bread. It was dry and nutty and took a very long time to chew. Eventually she swallowed it and looked down at the rest of it on her plate. How will I finish all that? she thought. She picked up a piece of salami. I’ll just eat the meat for now.

  Otto didn’t appear to notice. Instead he began to talk triumphantly of the people who had attended the wedding. ‘This will do me a lot of good,’ he said happily. ‘Did you see the chairman of DeWalle Bank? I’m sure he’ll have appreciated the invitation. I’ve done business with him. He’s a good man, an excellent man.’

  It seemed that most of the guests at the wedding had been business associates.

  Well, business is important to him. And he has no brothers and sisters.

  ‘Now.’ Otto got up, wiping his mouth on his napkin. ‘I think we are both ready for bed, are we not?’

  Flora stood as well, tired despite her naps on the plane and in the car. But first, surely, there was the small matter of their wedding night … She smiled at Otto, aware suddenly of the silk underwear she was wearing, the ivory lace suspender belt and the silky stockings that rasped on her thighs when they rubbed together. She was ready for a night of love – or, at least, an hour or two – before a long sleep and a lazy morning together.

  Otto moved towards her, a tender light in his eyes. ‘My wife,’ he said in a gentle voice.

  She smiled at him as he approached her, expecting his embrace. Then, as he neared, his expression changed. His lips curled and his eyes darkened. She saw him pull back his right arm. Just as she was wondering what on earth he was doing, she realised he was swinging it rapidly back towards her. In the next instant, she saw his fist come flying towards her face and then a vicious punch sent her flying backwards on to the four-poster bed. The shock and pain stunned her. Wetness and a metallic taste filled her mouth.

  Speechless and reeling, she put her hand to her mouth and pulled it away to see her fingertips were dark with blood.

  What happened? she thought dully, unable to process what had just occurred. Then Otto swam into view, a huge dark shape looming over her, his eyes hard and his mouth twisted.

  ‘You can forget your romantic dreams, my dear,’ he said in a harsh voice. ‘This is what your life is going to be like from now on.’

  Part Two

  48

  Eight months later

  The sun burned so brightly on the blue of the Mediterranean that it was hard to look at the surface of the water, which glittered like diamonds. Everything was hot to the touch. The only place to be was in the shade.

  Octavia, protected from the glare behind her Balenciaga metal-framed sunglasses, was reclining comfortably on a well-cushioned sun lounger, beneath the shade of a striped deck umbrella. She was wearing her new yellow Gucci bikini, the one that set off her deep tan beautifully, and her hair was tied up in a loose knot so that her neck stayed cool. She
was lazily reading a fashion magazine and wondering if she had the energy to lean over and buzz one of the stewards so that she could be brought a long drink and a bowl of chilled melon.

  Life on board Ethan’s yacht, The Great Bear, was always relaxed and utterly luxurious.

  Just then Ethan came up on deck, a phone pressed to his ear. He looked suitably nautical in white shorts, a blue polo shirt and white deck shoes, a pair of black Raybans shielding his eyes from the glare. ‘Yeah, great. That’s brilliant. Thanks, Robert. You’ve done the right thing. You won’t regret it.’

  He clicked the phone off and came towards Octavia, grinning.

  ‘What’s up?’ she said lazily.

  He sat down on the lounger and ran a hand along her smooth leg that glistened with the sun oil she’d massaged into it. ‘We’ve got something to celebrate,’ he murmured.

  ‘Really?’ She dropped her magazine and sat up straighter.

  Ethan nodded. ‘Uh-huh. The deal has gone through. We’re about to own the majority stake in Noble’s – or, at least, Butterfly Limited is.’

  ‘He went for it?’

  ‘He certainly did. Like a child for a lollipop. And you also own the freehold of the property, via BC Investments. And everything’s controlled via OctCo Holdings, our company based in Bermuda.’

  Octavia laughed, taking off her sunglasses so she could see him clearly. ‘It all sounds amazingly complicated!’

  ‘It is quite complicated,’ Ethan said frankly, ‘but it all makes sense in the long run, you’ll see.’

  Octavia threw her arms around him. ‘All I know is that it’s incredible! Thank you, my darling! I can’t wait to tell Iseult.’ Then she remembered. ‘But of course … I’ll see her tonight at Roddy’s party. We can celebrate our success then.’

  Life for Octavia had been transformed over the last few months, ever since she and Ethan had got together. He had urged her to spend big money, or, as he put it, to live rich. ‘You’ve got to impress people,’ he’d said. ‘It isn’t enough to have money. You’ve got to show it off as well. You need to have all the toys. Believe me, honey, I’ve seen how the big spenders live and you should be up there with those guys, on the A-list moneybags scene where you belong.’

  At first, Octavia had found it an odd concept. Yes, she’d always been surrounded by every luxury money could buy. Anyone looking at Homerton, the Connecticut farm and the other properties, would have known in an instant that only really substantial wealth could maintain all this: the kind of wealth that didn’t just own properties but also employed huge staffs to run them. But there was nothing ostentatious about the way Aunt Frances lived. It was done in quiet good taste and resolute privacy. Aunt Frances had no desire for the outside world to know anything about her; for her, a private jet had been a functional necessity, in order to keep her clear of the irritating world of crowded waiting areas, shared seating and other more uncongenial aspects of public travel. Ethan said that had to change: if Octavia wanted people to take her seriously as a businesswoman, she was going to have to start using her spending power.

  This sumptuous yacht was part of his living rich plan: he had persuaded her to come in with him on buying it so it was really half hers, though they pretended it was Ethan’s. She had put up ten million and he had found the other ten million, and then he had bought this beautiful 120-foot floating luxury home, with its own tennis court and pool, lavish reception rooms, library, spa and cinema. They had already spent several weeks on her, cruising the warm blue seas of the Med and the Caribbean. On Ethan’s advice, Octavia had bought a penthouse flat in New York, a smart apartment in Paris (which she’d never seen as it was being redesigned by a top team of interior decorators) and a house near Bondi Beach in Australia. Now he was showing her brochures for a beach-front estate in Thailand and telling her what an excellent investment it was.

  She’d learnt a lot over the past few months, and it was all thanks to Ethan, she knew that. He was an astute businessman, entirely self-made, and was clearly excellent at what he did. When they weren’t cruising on The Great Bear, eating out at the most fabulous restaurants or shopping as though it was going out fashion, Ethan was hard at work on her behalf. He’d set about creating the network of companies that would allow her to buy into Noble’s and gain overall control, while remaining as tax-efficient as possible. He’d asked Octavia how much cash she’d be able to put into the business. When she’d said airily as much as she wanted, he’d been surprised.

  ‘Isn’t your money controlled by trusts?’ he’d asked, frowning.

  She’d shaken her head. ‘No. It’s just sitting there, available to me.’

  ‘That’s pretty unusual.’

  ‘Is it?’ Octavia had shrugged. ‘That’s just the way it is. I know I should start investing or whatever it is you’re supposed to do with it. The lawyers tried to make me but I ignored them. That’s why I’m so glad I’ve met you.’

  Ethan had enveloped her in a hug then. ‘Don’t you worry, I’m here to look after you. It’s all going to be fine. You just tell me what you want, and I’ll make sure it happens.’

  Ethan was in charge of everything, her trusted partner, and that was fine with her. He was smart and educated and she respected that. She knew that he was on the boards of all the companies they’d created and that he’d arranged to be paid a handsome salary, but that was quite fair. He was earning it, as far as she was concerned. He’d already shown her spreadsheets and documents that projected excellent returns on the money he was investing for her. The properties, artworks, wine – everything he bought on her behalf – would all appreciate into even more valuable assets. And Noble’s, once they’d reinvigorated it, would begin to reward them handsomely.

  Meanwhile Ethan was making a few investments for himself. His old flat wasn’t quite the thing any more; it didn’t match the lifestyle that he was enjoying with Octavia, with the bespoke suits and shirts and handmade shoes. He found himself a smart four-storey townhouse in Notting Hill instead and had it completely overhauled with the help of a designer responsible for several other eye-wateringly expensive but very impressive houses.

  ‘I must be paying you well!’ joked Octavia when he’d shown her round.

  ‘You are paying me well,’ Ethan said, looking serious, ‘but it’s just the market rate for this kind of business.’ He grabbed her round the waist and stared deep into her eyes, so that she could study every fleck of hazel in his. ‘You trust me, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do.’ She knew he was more than capable of making her ventures a success. After all, he was a prosperous businessman before he’d met her. But more than that, life with Ethan was a constant whirl of excitement, and Octavia was continually carried away by his enthusiasm and passion. She loved being able to say ‘yes’ when he came to her with a new idea or a suggestion for something he thought they should own. Besides, he always rewarded her in the best way possible: when he was happy, he took her to bed and made love to her, driving her to ecstasy with his magnificent body. She was addicted to the gorgeous feeling. He only had to look at her in a certain way and she’d be hot and ready for him, desperate to possess him all over again.

  Was there anything more seductive than sex and business? she wondered. Sometimes, as they lay in bed, Ethan would explain the whole thing to her. Her money might be behind all the companies he’d created, he said, but most of her personal fortune would remain untouched. He’d designed BC Investments to limit her risk; she put in five million and Ethan went out to find other people willing to put in similar amounts, with a minimum initial stake of five million, until they had a big enough fund to invest in Noble’s.

  ‘BC Investments is going to buy the freehold of the store,’ Ethan explained to her. ‘Then Noble’s will lease it back at the cost of two million a year while also repaying a big chunk of their bank debt. Think of it as a two-pronged attack. Buying the property is one way in. Securing shares is another.’

  Octavia had nodded, trying to follow what
it was about but finding, in the end, that she preferred to leave it to him. She had a say in who was appointed to the board of Butterfly Ltd, the company that would set about acquiring shares in Noble’s, and had insisted that Iseult be brought on to it. Ethan agreed, and recruited a further four board members. They were identikit men in suits as far as Octavia was concerned, though he told her they all had impressive business backgrounds and experience in luxury retail.

  Now, as they sat on the deck of The Great Bear, Ethan nuzzled at Octavia’s neck where she smelt of warm skin and suntan lotion. ‘This is making me horny,’ he murmured. ‘Spending fucking obscene amounts of cash always does.’

  She giggled, her body tingling in response to his. ‘Then what are we waiting for?’ she asked.

  Three minutes later they were on the bed in Ethan’s cabin. He’d stripped off quickly so that he could devote himself to her smooth brown body, pulling down the bikini briefs to reveal the strip of blonde hair above her already swollen sex.

  ‘God, you’re ready for me,’ he breathed, sinking his face into her pussy and pressing his tongue inside so that he could lick out her sweet juices.

  Octavia was ready to come the moment his tongue touched her; she gasped and writhed, tossing her head on the pillow with abandon. She grabbed for his shoulders and pulled him up towards her.

  ‘Fuck me, please,’ she begged, feeling a wild yearning for the sensation of his girth filling her up. ‘Right now.’

  He grinned, eyes burning with desire. ‘You want it, baby … you got it.’

  She opened her thighs and he entered her, pressing his tongue into her mouth at the same instant as his cock rammed into her hot, waiting pussy. The intensity of it was almost overwhelming as they began to thrust together, her hips coming up to meet his. She felt as though she couldn’t get enough of him: the musky smell, the taste of his sweat on his skin, the sensation of his prick pounding her to that sweet resolve.