by Joanna Rees
‘What can’t?’ Emma looked between Pim and Susie, but they both looked at the floor. Suddenly, she felt a shadow of foreboding like she’d never felt before.
Sebastian took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been going through the paperwork and I’m afraid your assets have been frozen.’
‘But—’
‘And Wrentham is no longer yours. Your late husband used the house as collateral for the deal. I’m not sure if you realized, but there was an immediate forfeit clause.’
‘But Wrentham . . . ? It’s . . . it’s mine . . . it’s—’
‘No, Lady Emma, I’m afraid it’s not. The house has gone. And the contents. In fact today we received news from the bank that there’s already been a purchaser.’
‘A what?’
‘A Russian,’ Pim said. His voice was grim. ‘He’s going to be in by the end of the week.’
‘A Russian?’ Emma said.
‘Quite a well-known chap, actually, if not exactly above board,’ Sebastian Gatsworth said. ‘His name is Yuri Khordinsky.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
In the reflection of the dark window of the stretch limo, Peaches carefully adjusted her Marilyn Monroe-style blond wig. She’d done a good job with the disguise. She hardly recognized herself. She chewed her gum and took a swig of the champagne, counselling herself to keep up with the Southern accent.
Did she look as nervous as she felt? she wondered. Peaches was usually on the phone organizing this kind of gig, not taking part in one. Especially undercover. Oh yes, in more ways than one this was definitely a first.
But so far so good. It felt so weird to be in the gang of strange girls, drinking champagne as the driver wound through the back streets of Nice, where the plane had landed. With the drive along the coast, it was a long time to keep up the act.
Tonight she was posing as Tammy, one of Peaches Gold’s top girls. One of her own employees, no less. As far as everyone else (apart from Angela) knew, Peaches was still in Russia. And none of the other girls here had ever met Peaches face to face before. So none of them would ever suspect that she was Peaches Gold.
Peaches still didn’t know whether Valentin would be at the party on Pushkin. Hence the cover story and disguise. Besides, she didn’t know how tonight would pan out. She couldn’t take the risk of compromising her true identity.
She took another swig of champagne, hardly tasting it. She wished it was something stronger. Something that would calm her nerves. But she had to stay levelheaded and focused. Even so, when Mallory nudged her and pointed at the lines of cocaine she’d laid out on the small table, she was sorely tempted. Peaches hadn’t done coke for ten years. But then, she hadn’t been this stressed for ten years either.
‘You want some, Tammy?’ Mallory asked her.
Peaches shook her head. ‘I’m doing NA,’ she lied.
Mallory shrugged and snorted a line of coke and giggled, passing the silver tube on to Daisy.
‘It’s good shit,’ Mallory said, nodding. ‘But then everything’s so much better in France.’
‘You know, you don’t want to do too much,’ Peaches said. ‘I heard Peaches Gold doesn’t approve of drugs. And one of her girls just got busted.’
‘So, you worked for Peaches before?’ Mandy asked from the seat opposite. Peaches had only ever spoken to Mandy on the phone before and she was surprised at how good-looking she was in the flesh. Glammed up in evening dresses as they were, all the girls looked stunning, but Mandy looked amazing in an electric-blue number. She had smooth tanned skin and amazing small but pert breasts. The plunging neckline showed just the tiniest sliver of her pale nipples. She had what it took to drive men wild: Peaches could recognize it in an instant.
‘Sure. Loads of times,’ Peaches said.
‘What’s she like?’
‘I’ve never met her in person, but I know girls who have. They say she’s real nice . . .’
‘Nice? Hah!’ Heather piped up. ‘I heard she’s the most mean, hard-nosed businesswoman in LA.’
Heather was part of a double act Peaches had hired in through her contact in the high-end skin trade. Heather and Hailey were a well-known west coast lesbian couple and had done several successful porn movies together, which in escort terms was like having a degree from Harvard on your CV. Peaches could pretty much charge what she liked for these two, especially for after-show work. She was delighted to have them on her books after Tommy Liebermann had brokered the deal for her with their film producer.
They were working a Barbie doll look tonight, with matching sequined hot-pants and high T-bar shoes, their silver halter-neck tops stretched tight across their amply filled bikini tops. They both had very long blond hair swept tight into a high ponytail which curled down their backs.
Peaches was looking forward to seeing them in action. If they were as hot as they said they were, she’d be signing them up to work at her party. But, boy, did the party in LA seem like a long way off right now. Peaches’ radar switched back to the matter in hand. So many things could go wrong at the party on Pushkin but mustn’t be allowed to. Not if she wanted to live to see LA again.
‘She may be,’ Peaches said, freaked out to hear the girls speaking about her like this. ‘But Peaches is always good to her girls. And fair. They all compete to get on jobs like this.’
‘Yeah . . . you want to stay in with her,’ piped up Daisy, coming up for air from the cocaine. ‘Peaches Gold hosts this incredible party every year, like the party at the Playboy Mansion in Bel-Air used to be. Last year, these girls I knew made wild tips.’
Another girl – Nicki, was it? – was quiet. Peaches knew nothing about her. She’d come along with Mandy when one of the girls had dropped out. Usually she had time to vet the girls for a job like this: there was something about Nicki that unnerved her.
She thought back again to Tommy Liebermann’s warning about the Feds. That was all she needed, today of all days: someone trying to bust one of her parties on top of everything else. It was time to sound this girl out and, if necessary, weed her out – before they got on board Pushkin and it was too late for them all.
‘So what about you, Nicki?’ Peaches asked. ‘You done these gigs before?’
‘One or two. Nothing heavy though.’
Which makes you a liar, Peaches thought, knowing that Nicki had never worked for her before.
‘So what will happen tonight?’ Nicki asked nervously.
‘Don’t worry, honey,’ Peaches said, figuring it was smarter to keep her close. ‘You just stick with me. It’ll be the usual. A bit of stripping, a bit of teasing.’
‘What if they want to – you know – do it?’ Nicki asked, shyly this time.
The others laughed and Nicki blushed.
‘Listen,’ Peaches said, deciding to test this girl out, guessing that a real Fed agent wouldn’t want to actually screw anyone, not unless her life depended on it. ‘The more you can turn these guys on, the bigger the tip. And if you fuck them, all the better. That’s what they want. And these are rich guys. Charming rich guys. Not sleaze balls.’
‘Peaches told me that it’s a birthday party for this Russian guy. His thirtieth. He’s seriously rich,’ Mandy said.
‘That’s right,’ Peaches said, still watching Nicki for a reaction, a tell that would give her away. ‘His name’s Alexei Rodokov. And Peaches says we’re there to show him the best time. Whichever one of us he likes the best, we’ve got to make sure he can’t stand up by tomorrow morning. You know what I mean?’
The other girls laughed. Nicki smiled nervously.
‘You know these Russian guys?’ Heather said. ‘I heard they love girl-on-girl action. Watching at first.’
‘Really?’ Nicki asked.
‘You leave that to me and Heather,’ Hailey said. ‘We’ve got a routine that’ll drive them all wild. Guaranteed.’
‘And I love eating your pussy,’ Heather said, leaning over and kissing Hailey, their tongues lapping at each other. The other girls laughed.
‘Yeah,’ Peaches said, watching Nicki biting her nails and looking out of the window. ‘We’re gonna give this Alex guy a birthday he’ll never forget.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Frankie had never experienced anything remotely like being with Todd Lands. His sheer star quality was so intense, it seemed to charge the air around him and she felt totally dazzled in his presence.
Frankie hadn’t seen a moment of the screening of Blue Zero. Todd had talked the entire way through it, introducing her in whispers to a succession of well-wishers who made their pilgrimage to their party on the front row. She’d been completely hemmed in, not least of all by Todd, but by Sonny Wiseman too, who had watched her like a hawk, and Todd’s entourage – his agent, his PA, his stylist and his co-stars. Not to mention the countless other hangers-on who drooled off Todd’s every word.
Now, as they stepped out of the Palais, the whole circus was back on show. It was insane.
Frankie found herself back at the centre of a scrummage of press and fans, moving slowly along the roped red carpet to the after-screening party, hustled through the crush of the crowd by six giant bouncers. The brightness of the TV cameras’ lights picked them out; the noise was deafening. Yet Todd remained relaxed all the while, waving to his fans and stopping to sign numerous autographs.
Blue Zero was without a doubt this year’s biggest party in Cannes. An entire stretch of the Croisette had been cordoned off on the approach to the beach. Enormous screens showing Todd and images from the film hid the queue of guests from the swarm of fans trying to get a glimpse of the action. Blue lasers lit up the clear night sky above the Killers performing their set; the music echoed out across the bay.
Inside the VIP entrance tunnel leading from the pavement, swirls of bright lights lit up giant holograms of Todd’s face. Huge, serious-looking security men and scantily dressed chaperones bearing designer gifts led them to the party on the beach.
Everyone who was on the A-list in Cannes was here, drinking vintage champagne cocktails. All of them wanted a piece of Todd. And, by default, Frankie. He kept her right by his side. Hand in hand. Like lovers.
Frankie’s hands were sweating, her feet cramping in her high heels, but there was no way she could leave Todd, let alone go and see if she could find Alex. Everything was happening too fast. Quick-fire questions from a Time magazine journalist. Then an MTV VJ. Then the BBC.
Frankie still couldn’t believe this was happening. She was with Todd Lands. Todd Lands. And he was behaving as if they’d known each other for ages – intimately. Cheek-to-cheek now for a Vogue photographer. Arm draped over her shoulder for French Marie Claire. The sheer audacity of it!
And he’d kissed her like that in front of all those people! She was still reeling from the shock of it. Terrified, too, in case he did it again.
But much as Frankie wanted to, she didn’t have the nerve to contradict him. Every time he insinuated that they were a serious item, instead of exposing it for the outrageous charade it was, she smiled and kept her mouth shut.
If she made a fuss now, she knew it would only make matters worse. It would lead to more questions. Even if she just ran, she knew the cameras would follow her. And anyway, where would she run to? It was Alex she wanted and she knew he was somewhere here. She’d just have to bite her lip and smile for the cameras and wait for an opportunity to slip back into the anonymity and safety of the crowd.
All the same, she couldn’t help wondering how come no one else could see how uncomfortable she was. Wasn’t it obvious this was all a lie?
Apparently not.
Such was Todd’s skill that so far nobody had mentioned that Frankie was a mute and hadn’t backed up one of his claims. But it wasn’t as if Todd gave her a second to speak up for herself: he answered every question with a charming throwaway line, a cheeky wink, or a simple ‘no comment’ which of course implied so much.
‘Smile,’ he whispered in her ear as yet another camera flashed in their face. ‘You’re doing good. Not long now. We’ve just got to show our faces here, then we’re going back to the Hôtel du Cap for Bruce’s party.’
‘Bruce?’
‘The director. Now, smile!’
‘But . . .’ Frankie began to protest. She didn’t want to go to another party. She wanted one thing: to find Alex and be rescued from all of this. But once again Todd gripped her elbow.
‘Todd! Todd! Over here!’ Frankie heard someone else yell. Todd turned around to face another camera, his perfect smile unwavering.
Frankie scanned the crowd again. She had to find Alex and explain that this was all a crazy set-up. Because if he thought for one second that she’d wanted any of this, then . . .
Even here, under the barrage of camera flashes, Alex’s face in Marrakech kept coming back to her and, despite being a hapless bystander in all of tonight’s mad proceedings, her skin crept with guilt. His words kept coming back to haunt her, like he was whispering them in her ear. I can’t help it, but I’m a jealous guy, Frankie . . .
Alex. She kept repeating his name in her head, like a mantra. She stood on tiptoe, straining to look through the mass of tuxedos, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
‘Time, Todd,’ Sonny said, leaning in between them. ‘The limo’s here in two.’
Todd smiled. ‘We’ll be right there.’
Sonny winked at Frankie. ‘Having fun?’ he asked.
Fun! Frankie wanted to punch him. How could he have done this to her?
But just as she was about to give him a piece of her mind, she felt her stomach dissolving. It was Alex. There he was. Heading for the exit. She shoved Sonny aside and elbowed through the crowd, ducking between people, keeping her head down until finally she was near the tunnel that led back up to the street.
‘Alex,’ she called. ‘Alex! Wait! I’m here!’
He turned at the sound of her voice. He looked so handsome in his tuxedo. She’d missed him, needed him so much since she’d last seen him. Her eyes filled with tears of relief.
‘Oh Alex, thank God you’re here,’ she said, breathless as she finally managed to battle to his side. She’d been longing for nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and for him to tell her that everything was going to be OK. She wanted him to tell her that what had happened on Pushkin was all a huge mistake and that it was unforgivable for Richard and Eugene and Jeff to have treated her like that. But Alex’s look was anything but compassionate.
‘Get away from me,’ he hissed. His voice was brutal and harsh. ‘Before I do something in public I’ll regret.’
‘Alex?’ The look of loathing in his eyes stopped her in her tracks, like a punch to the face.
‘I saw you, Frankie. I was right behind you on that red carpet. Didn’t you see me?’ He stared at her, his eyes hard. ‘No? I supposed that was because you were too busy kissing Lands.’
Frankie let out an aghast laugh, but her legs were trembling. ‘But it’s not what you think! Todd kissed me! I didn’t know—’
‘Todd now, is it?’ he said, impersonating her voice. ‘Fuck you, Frankie,’ Alex snarled at her suddenly, leaning in close. ‘The whole world saw you. Boy, you really know how to stab a guy in the guts.’
‘But—’ Frankie started to protest, but Alex wasn’t listening.
‘Did someone set you up for this? Is this Sonny Wiseman’s way of getting back at me for having been ripped off at poker on my yacht? How long have you been planning this, huh?’
Planning?
Frankie thought she was going to faint.
He didn’t believe her.
Her heart hammered inside her chest.
‘Planning . . . what? No . . . I—’
‘Don’t try and deny it, or make some pathetic excuse. I’ve spoken to Richard, Dieter . . . even Hamish. They all told me how you flirted with Sonny Wiseman, trying to get an invitation to Cannes. How you were trying to meet Todd Lands all along. That you were a lifelong fan. That you’d give anything to meet him.’
&nb
sp; Frankie felt her cheeks burning. ‘No, that’s not true. I wasn’t, I—’
‘I told them that they’d got it all wrong and you weren’t like that,’ Alex continued. ‘I was furious that they’d thrown you off the yacht. I came here to bring you back. But now I see they were right all along.’
She was shaking now. ‘No, Alex, no—’
‘You know, I was expecting to have to apologize to you for the way my staff treated you, but it seems to me that they did exactly the right thing. Because what do I find? I find that you’re here, dressed up like this . . .’ He gestured to her dress, as if she was in her underwear. Like she was some kind of whore. ‘Todd Lands’ leading lady, no less. You’ve been using me all along, haven’t you? Just like Richard said.’
‘No!’ Frankie cried, unable to bear him treating her like this. How could he believe such lies? ‘Alex. No. You mustn’t listen to them. You’ve got it all wrong. You can’t really think that—’
‘What I think is no longer any of your concern.’ There was no mistaking the pain in his voice. Or the finality. ‘I have nothing more to say to you.’ The cold look in his eyes froze the words in her mouth. ‘I was willing to give you everything, Frankie. And you betrayed me.’
Frankie let out a sob. She grabbed his arm, wanting to drag him over to Todd. To prove how wrong he was. ‘Just come with me. Talk to Todd and then you’ll see—’
‘No. Forget it, Frankie. It’s over.’
‘But I love you,’ she implored.
He looked down at her hand on his arm. ‘No, you don’t. You don’t even know what the word means.’
‘But I do.’
He shook her from him like dirt. Then he stared through her. As if she was invisible. As if she didn’t exist to him any more. His dark eyes registered nothing as the tears ran down her face.
‘Eugene,’ he called out, clicking his fingers.
Out of nowhere, the bodyguard appeared. He stepped between Frankie and Alex and stood there like a wall.
Alex strode into the crowd.
Eugene gazed unblinkingly down at Frankie. His tongue flicked across his lips in anticipation. Like a lizard contemplating its next meal. ‘Keep away from him, bitch,’ he told her, a malicious smile crossing his face. ‘Or next time it will be more than your bag that ends up at the bottom of the sea.’
