by Lulu Taylor
Thirty minutes later, Amanda closed the folder. She frowned and looked a little surprised for a moment. Then her face cleared and she laughed softly. ‘So these were Iseult’s ideas. Extraordinary. She truly was a talent. I love these plans. The shoe boutique is gorgeous, especially those cabinets. I adore the display ideas for the women’s clothes, and the list of designers she’s suggested is just right. In fact, I can think of several ways we can build on this. She’s suggested a couple of pop-up boutiques and I’m sure we can do loads more of those, teaming up with famous brands. I love the idea of having pop-up famous restaurants on the fourth floor – a mini-Caprice and a Hix oyster bar and so on. And her idea for getting celebrity rock stars and artists to do their own riff on famous Noble’s fabrics is brilliant.’ Amanda patted the folder. ‘It’s all great.’
‘You just said “we can”,’ Octavia pointed out.
‘What?’
‘We can build, we can do … It sounds like you really want to be a part of it.’
Amanda’s face grew solemn and she pursed her lips for a moment. ‘Of course I do. But I also want to express myself with my own boutique, do my own thing.’
‘But …’ Octavia stared at her intently, trying to convey the strength of her conviction that Amanda had to come back to the store her family had founded. ‘You can do all that as well, if you want! Why don’t you start a Noble’s diffusion line? Or a luxury goods line?’
Amanda tapped her fingernail on the folder, thinking hard. ‘Oh, God,’ she said at last, ‘I can’t believe you’re making this so difficult for me. Listen, let me think about it.’ She put her head on one side and looked Octavia in the eye. ‘Could we work together? That’s the question. There’s a lot of water under our particular bridge.’
‘Well, you won’t get much interference from me on the management side, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ Octavia smiled over at her mischievously. ‘I’m going to have a rather different role, as it happens …’
89
Octavia left Claridge’s satisfied that she was in with a fighting chance of persuading the other woman to come back to Noble’s. She had promised that Amanda could appoint four new board members of her own choosing and have full executive power over business decisions, although Octavia would retain her voting power and be consulted on all moves.
She walked out into the wintry Brook Street sunshine, making her way down the broad pavement, feeling smart and businesslike in her outfit of pencil skirt and belted jacket under a Dries van Noten coat. Her telephone went and she saw Max’s name come up on the screen. Her mouth dried and her heart pounded. He hadn’t been in touch since that night in Scotland just over a week ago and she’d begun to worry that it had meant nothing to him. ‘Hello?’ she said breathlessly.
‘Octavia? Where are you?’
‘In Mayfair,’ she said, smiling at the way he got right to the point as usual.
‘Can I see you?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Good. My driver will be in touch. You can give him your exact location so he can collect you.’
Five minutes later Max’s driver was bringing the enormous Daimler to a halt next to her. He jumped out with a grin and opened the door for her.
‘Afternoon, Miss.’
‘Afternoon, Clive.’ She climbed on to the buttery leather seat and sat back, putting her briefcase next to her. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked as he got back behind the wheel and pulled smoothly away from the kerb.
‘Sir Max’s house, madam,’ he said, and they were off, moving through the London traffic, heads turning to look at the magnificent car as they went.
The Christmas lights that were hanging everywhere were already sparkling, she noticed. Despite the fact that it was early afternoon, it was getting dark.
It wasn’t far to Max’s impressive Holland Park house, on a quiet back street in a row of other substantial mansions, although his was notable for being painted a pale blue. The front door was opened as Octavia came up the steps and a maid took her coat then led her to a drawing room. It was like Glachach, cosy and inviting, with evidence of its owner’s cultivated, international taste everywhere, from the ancient Buddha statues to the antique Chinese porcelain, the Graham Sutherland oil on the wall and the prints of Japanese ladies holding silk parasols. There were books and photographs, and heaps of international newspapers in five different languages.
Octavia wandered over to the mantle and examined some photographs of Max with heads of state and important-looking businessmen. She put out a finger to touch his face, missing him suddenly and desperate to be reunited.
A moment later there was the sound of a familiar voice in the hallway and then he was in the room with her. He smiled, and held out his arms to her.
‘Max!’ she cried joyfully, and ran into them. As she pressed her face to his chest, Octavia said, ‘Oh, I’ve been so worried.’
‘Worried? Why?’ He hugged her tightly.
‘You haven’t been in touch.’
His expression became grave. ‘I can’t pretend that I haven’t had a few sleepless nights over what happened between us. I’ve also been to South Africa and back, so please forgive me. I needed to sort some things out before seeing you. Now, have you had lunch?’
They had a delicious late lunch together of borscht and then baked stuffed sea trout, and Octavia told him about her business meeting and her plan to tempt Amanda back to Noble’s, which he liked very much.
As they were drinking coffee, he said idly, ‘I expect you’ve noticed that Christmas is the day after tomorrow.’
‘Yes …’ She felt rather surprised. She’d been so caught up in her business affairs lately that she hadn’t given it much thought. She had never had to make any kind of preparations for the holiday, except for a little present-buying the last two years, so it didn’t seem to affect her very much. She hadn’t given a thought as to what she’d be doing this year.
‘I wondered if you’d like to spend it with me. I have a little place in France. We could have a very quiet time there together … if you’d like to?’
Excitement bubbled up inside her. ‘Oh, yes! I’d love to! But when will we go? Tomorrow?’
‘Oh, no.’ Max smiled at her, his blue eyes intense. ‘I thought we’d go right away.’
‘Right now? But …’
He laughed at her expression. ‘Don’t worry it’s all taken care of. If you’re ready, we’ll leave.’
Clive was waiting outside with the Daimler, already packed, and he drove them swiftly through the rush-hour traffic. London was busy with Christmas shoppers, wrapped up in coats and hats, carrying bulging bags and hurrying past brilliantly lit shop windows. They passed Noble’s with its angel-themed displays shimmering out into the darkening afternoon, and Octavia was pleased to see how busy it looked. Soon it would be the main focus of her life, but right now she was going to forget about business and enjoy herself.
She’d expected that Max would pilot them to France in his helicopter, but this time they boarded a tiny aeroplane instead and sat opposite one another in large, comfortable seats, enjoying their privacy. A stewardess brought them drinks and Octavia gazed out into the inky sky as they left Britain behind. The journey was swift. In only an hour and a half they were landing at Bergerac airport, and being taken quickly through passport control. To Octavia’s surprise, Max had her passport, and her luggage appeared on a trolley ready to be loaded into the dark green Mercedes waiting for them at the exit.
‘A little help from Vicky,’ he explained with a grin, and then they were in the car and heading out into the countryside, his hand holding hers.
This is like a dream, Octavia thought happily. The whole thing became even more fantastical when they passed between a pair of wrought-iron gates and approached a beautiful house, lit by floodlights so that it shone out against the night sky.
‘Here we are,’ Max said, with a smile.
Inside the house was quietly luxurious, full of paintings and
antique furniture and opulent fabrics. It was the richest-looking house of Max’s she’d yet seen, but it was also intensely comfortable, like being in a superb private hotel. It was toasty warm and when Octavia went up to her room to change for dinner, there was lashings of hot water for her bath.
‘This is very romantic,’ she said, when she came into the salon dressed in a ravishing floor-length black silk Dior gown.
Max turned and drew in a breath at the sight of her. ‘My God, Octavia, you’re stunning.’ He went over and kissed her, his hand touching the bare skin of her back and sending delicious tingles all over it and down to her groin.
This is bliss, she thought, wanting only to make love to him right there. But she was also starving, and they had all night … and the whole of the next day … and the day after …
She sighed happily. There was no need to hurry.
90
It had been a wonderful evening, but it was the night that raised the whole experience to truly magnificent heights.
After dinner at Corrigan’s in Mayfair, they had come back to the Chelsea house and at last, Flora’s longing for Nick had been assuaged. They had undressed each other very slowly between long kisses, taking their time as they revealed themselves to each other. He was perfect in every way to her, with the most delicious scent to his skin that she longed to inhale forever. When finally they were both naked, and breathless with longing for each other, he had laid her down on the bed and very gently made love to her, first paying homage to every part of her body with feather-light kisses, telling her how much he wanted her. With every loving kiss and every gentle murmur, he restored something that had been taken away from her. She’d worried that she wouldn’t want him to enter her, after everything that had happened, but instead she was desperate for him to possess her. Where Otto had been ugly, he was beautiful. Where she’d once been revolted, now she fell passionately in love with every part of a man. She wanted to touch and caress every inch of his body, his skin and his cock.
‘Is it all right? Do you want to?’ he’d asked softly as he’d put his hands between her legs and touched her.
‘Yes, please …’ She’d pulled him to her and then guided him inside, so that he knew for sure it was what she wanted. Then he’d made love to her, so carefully that she had felt renewed by him, as though he was beginning to erase all the terrible things Otto had done to her, and show her that love could be healthy and healing.
When he called out her name, told her he loved her and fell on her breast, spent, Flora kissed his face and neck and hair, almost hurting with the delight she felt in his pleasure and the depth of her love for him.
Afterwards they lay together in each other’s arms, their fingers interlaced, talking quietly.
‘Everything with Otto’, Flora said, feeling as though they were so close, so intimate, that she could say anything, ‘was made worse because of what happened to me as I was growing up. You see …’ She struggled for a moment, but then continued, determined to finish. ‘We grew up almost completely shut off from the world, with only our uncle and aunt for company. My aunt was a strict, unbending woman, and my uncle … well, he … he …’
‘Oh, honey.’ Nick bent his cheek down to her shoulder. ‘What happened?’
‘That’s the funny thing,’ she said, ‘because he didn’t abuse me. I mean – he never touched me.’
‘So what did he do?’
Nick lifted his head to look at her and Flora gazed back into his eyes.
‘He watched me,’ she said simply. ‘All the time. I knew he was constantly observing me, sometimes as though I was a creature in his personal collection, and sometimes with a different kind of intent. I felt watched all the time, and sometimes I found holes drilled in strange places in my bedroom or in my bathroom ceiling … peep holes. Once I discovered a tiny camera inside a cupboard in our schoolroom, fixed on my desk and filming me while I worked. The sense of being observed constantly was terribly oppressive and I developed an awful stutter. As I began to grow up, he seemed less interested in me. It was from the age of about twelve to sixteen that it was at its worst.’
‘Didn’t Octavia notice?’ Nick asked.
Flora shook her head. ‘He was only interested in me. I don’t know why. So when Otto turned out to be … a watcher … it was awful. I thought I was going mad. I couldn’t understand why I attracted men like that.’
‘Flora.’ Nick propped himself up on one arm and gazed at her seriously. ‘Those men, both of them – they’re sick, in their own way. They’re voyeurs. I don’t care what people get up to if they’re consenting adults but exploiting others, especially children, against their will, is abuse at best. No one should have made you suffer like that.’ He kissed her face. ‘It’s a wonder you’re as amazing as you are, considering what you’ve been through.’
‘Nick,’ she said softly, ‘will you … will you stay with me? Not just tonight. For a couple of days. I want us to be together, to get to know each other properly for a while.’
‘Hey, it’s Christmas, you know. I have plans.’
‘You do?’ Her heart sank. She had been hoping she could persuade him to spend Christmas with her.
‘Yeah, I had planned to stay in on my own, maybe see some pals, drink some beers and swear at bad television.’ He looked at her with amusement. ‘You’re not going to make me give all that up so I can spend a romantic day with a beautiful girl, are you? What kind of trade is that, for God’s sake?’
She laughed.
Then he looked serious, holding her hand a little tighter and stroking her other palm with one fingertip.
‘Don’t you think’, he said quietly, ‘that you need to be with someone rich? That way you know they’re not after your money.’
‘No … I need to be with someone whom I trust. Someone whose heart I know. I know yours. You’re a good man, Nick Falcon.’
‘I’m a man with about six cents in the bank.’
‘That’s the lucky thing, you see. I’ve got enough for both of us.’
‘Hey, I don’t want that money of yours, understand?’
‘I’m not giving you money – although I don’t mind doubling that six cents. But …’ Flora hesitated, feeling shy again. Then she went on in a rush: ‘I do want you to love me, with the money or without it. Do you think … you might be able to?’
He stared at her and then said earnestly, ‘How could I not? You’re the most loveable person I’ve ever met in my life. It’s not just that you’re beautiful, it’s what’s shining out of your eyes. I want to make everything rotten in your life good again.’
Tears sprung to her eyes but she was smiling and laughing as she hugged him. ‘Oh, Nick. That’s exactly what I want too.’
Octavia woke in Max’s magnificent bed on Christmas morning. She was wearing nothing but a stunning diamond necklace that he had given her as a Christmas present the night before. She hadn’t got a gift for him, as she’d come away at such short notice, but he said that her divine body was present enough as far as he was concerned, and they’d made passionate love until they’d fallen asleep in one another’s arms in the early hours. Now it was late, the morning already well advanced.
Max was not there so she got up, showered and dressed in a bright red jersey wrap dress, which she thought was suitably Christmassy, and put her diamond necklace back on. She went down to breakfast feeling wonderfully sexually sated, but a little depressed as well.
‘Hello, darling,’ Max said, getting up as she came in so that he could kiss her.
She was thrilled to hear him call her ‘darling’. This man, this wonderful man, really cared for her.
He hugged her tightly and murmured, ‘Happy Christmas! How are you? You look gorgeous.’
‘Thank you. Happy Christmas to you.’ She sat down to a bowl of fruit and yoghurt, and a cup of coffee. ‘I’m … I’m missing Flora, I suppose. We didn’t spend Christmas together last year, and I promised her that we would this year.’
‘Yes. I
t is sad to be apart from loved ones at this time of year, isn’t it?’ Max’s eyes sparkled with amusement in a way she’d never seen before. ‘Look out of the window.’
She got up and went to the huge window that looked out to the front of the house, with its ornamental fountain and sweeping circle of gravel. It was a chilly day outside and frost sparkled on the iron railings and the lawn. Then she noticed the Mercedes that had met them at the airport was purring quietly up the drive towards the house.
She turned back to Max, who was obviously delighted at the way things were working out. ‘Another Christmas present,’ he said.
The car pulled around the fountain and came to a stop outside the house. The driver went to open the passenger door, but it had already been opened and out stepped Nick Falcon.
‘Nick?’ Octavia said wonderingly, watching as he turned and put his hand out. The next minute Flora was climbing from the car and looking up at the house, evidently impressed.
‘Oh, Max!’ said Octavia in a choked voice. ‘Oh, thank you!’ She raced to him and covered his face in kisses, then ran to the front door, opened it and hurried down the front steps to greet her sister and hug her happily.
Just as they were all talking and wishing each other a Happy Christmas and laughing about the surprise, they realised that another car was coming up the driveway, another dark Mercedes just like the first.
They all glanced at each other with questioning looks. Then Max came out, saying, ‘Ah, here’s the second part of your Christmas present, Octavia. And it’s for you too, Flora.’
The car drew up behind the first, the driver got out, opened the passenger door, and suddenly there was Vicky, grinning delightedly. ‘Hello!’ she shouted. ‘Happy Christmas!’
The driver opened the other door and there, standing on the far side of the car, was Diane. The twins stared at her, their mouths open in astonishment. Their mother came around to the front of the car and looked up at them.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said, ‘but I rather thought I’d like to spend Christmas with my daughters, and Max was kind enough to arrange it.’
