by Duka Dakarai
“You had better not fail this time! When you have her, take her immediately to the agreed location. Do not bring her here.” Alexei relaxes back into his lounger, closing his eyes. “I look forward to my meeting with the beautiful Sky Sinclair.”
***
“I am not wearing a monkey suit. End of conversation, Sky.” Kane leans harshly against the granite worktop in the kitchen folding his arms firmly across his chest.
“It’s the Royal Television Society Awards! All the men will be wearing dinner suits. Storm and Dalton have said they will wear dinner suits. Why are you being so stubborn?” I cross my arms, mirroring his stance.
“You actually believed them? They were keeping you sweet just to avoid another tantrum. They will wear whatever I tell them. And I still have not fully agreed that you are going yet. It’s a risk putting you out there on show.” Kane scrapes a hand across his head.
“Please Kane. It is not every year I get nominated for an award. It’s a huge honour to be recognised. And I promise to be good. I’ll stick by your side the whole time unless I have to go up onto the stage and collect an award, of course.” I flutter my eyelashes, smiling sweetly.
“That won’t work, Sky.”
“What won’t work, Kane?” I tilt my head to the side.
“The eye thing. I know what you are trying to do. Fluttering your baby blues at me will not work.” He smirks arrogantly.
“You sure about that, Kane?”
“Positive, sweet cheeks.”
***
Oliver Browns Outfitters in Sloan Square is always busy in Awards season. We were lucky to get a slot at such short notice, however, news of my nomination won over the day and we were immediately offered two possible time frames to accommodate our needs.
“Remind me again why we are here, Kane.” Storm growls towards the tailor kneeling before him as he inches closer to his cock taking measurement after measurement of his inside leg. The normally placid gentle giant is breaking a sweat.
Kane glares at me, grunting an inaudible response to Storm.
I throw both men a wide smile. “You know why you are here, guys. To be fitted for a dinner suit. And I have no doubt you will look very handsome. Don’t you agree, Brains?”
Brains leans back on the viewing sofa, the smirk that claimed her face upon entering the tailors, still very evident. “Totally. Come on out, Dalton. Let’s see you in your finery.”
Dalton pulls back the curtain from his private cubicle. His face is frozen with disgust. “I don’t get paid enough for this, Kane.”
“So how did you make this happen?” Brains whispers to me.
“I batted the baby blues, of course.” I wink at her.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Fancy having a bit of fun later?” I shoot her a raised eyebrow.
She leans further against me. “Does it involve more of this torture for the guys?”
“Absolutely.”
“Count me in.”
***
Offering the ultimate in luxury, BY APPOINTMENT on the first floor of Harrods is a bespoke shopping experience. Clients can relax in the privacy of a lavish lounge whilst the team of Personal Shoppers select items for your individual requirements.
After many grunts and groans, the three men were eventually persuaded by the free refreshments on offer and the chance to chill out on the incredibly inviting sofas. Anything, rather than babysit us while we shopped for gowns for the Awards event.
So here we are, Brains and I, in the dressing lounge giggling like fools. “No, I need higher heels and another corset set please. Something that screams sensual. How about you, Brains? I think you need to go that little bit sexier?”
She nods, laughter tears spilling on her cheeks. The Personal Shopper smiles widely. “Will you be wishing to show the gentlemen before we collect the gowns?”
“Oh, yes. We will. After all, however will we know if the lingerie is suitable?” I throw her a wink.
The Personal Shopper winks in return. “Then, madam, I think we have just the very thing. I will be right back.”
Brains and I sip yet another glass of champagne while we await her return. Moments later, she enters the dressing area with two sets of Wacoal Dia sheer lace corset and thong sets, deep purple for me and midnight blue for Brains, complete with silk stockings.
We slip into towering heels to complete the ‘look’ and take a slow walk out into the private lounge area. The Personal Shopper announces that we are on our way out and that we are unsure of our chosen outfits so will seek their opinion. We hear their mutual groans of despair from behind the curtain. “I knew this was going to happen.” Kane growls. “We’ll be here all damn day.”
The Personal Shopper ushers us out into the lounge area and subtly disappears. We pretend it is just another everyday issue that must be resolved as we twirl and strut together. “I’m not sure if this looks right, at all. Are my breasts too elevated?” I ask Brains. I grab a handful of my breasts.
“No, they look perfect. But I’m not sure about this thong on me. Or the colour.”
“Oh no, the colour is perfect on you.” We turn in unison to the men, tilting our heads suggestively. “What you do think, guys? Guys?”
All three men are stunned into silence, wide eyed and frozen in motion. Storm cannot seem to peel his eyes away from Brains. His nostrils flare momentarily, a flush appearing across his face. I look intently at Kane, moistening my bottom lip with a long, slow tongue sweep. He narrows his eyes through hooded lids, a twitch catching on his clenched jawline.
“Storm, this corset really suits Brains, don’t you think? It will be the perfect foundation for her gown.” I smile sweetly at him. He merely nods, still unable to look away from her.
“And yours really suits your body, Sky. I think it gives your breasts just the right amount of emphasis. And your ass just looks incredible in that barely there thong. I said Sky should buy this but she’s unsure. What do you think, Kane?” Brains raises a questioning eyebrow at Kane.
Kane nods, his eyes glassy and dark. I grin widely in response before we both head back to the dressing rooms.
Dalton roars a laugh, shaking his head.
“What’s the fucking joke?” Kane barks. Storm throws Dalton a glare.
“Those two just held your balls in the palm of their hands. You two are so screwed.”
Storm nods, a smirk spreading across his face. “Yeah, we’re screwed alright.”
“Screwed.” Kane agrees, dropping a heavy head into his hands.
Chapter Nine
The RTS Television Journalism Awards celebrate creative and excellent journalism in UK news and current affairs, both by organisations broadcasting in the UK and by companies which supply UK news broadcasters.
The Awards Ceremony, hosted by Sky News anchor, Jeremy Thompson, is held at the London Hilton, Park Lane in the Grand Ballroom. Featuring the latest audio-visual facilities, including sound reproduction of broadcast quality, the Ballroom allows for television coverage of the event.
Kane is wired and uneasy. He said no and should have stuck to it. Damn baby blues. Having Sky on display in a public place, and a packed one at that, breaks every rule of keeping her safe and he is angry - at her for pushing him on this, but more so at himself. And as if to make matters worse, and take him right over the edge, she is looking so fucking hot tonight, he honestly thinks his cock will explode at any minute.
***
I have been nominated for the Specialist Journalist of the Year Award. It is the recognition of providing complex story telling often against the odds. I am up against some major players tonight – Pedro Pinto from CNN and Jeremy Bowen for the BBC for his piece on the Syria uprising. My documentary telling the inside story of the notorious gangland family ‘The McCrees’ in Manchester is the third nominated piece in this category.
I flash Kane a quiet smile, anything to momentarily shake him out of his mood. He is not happy being here tonight. I know I should not
have pushed him on this, but this is my career, and when this current nightmare regarding the Russians is finally over, I will return to it. And, yes, I want to win that award. Ok, I admitted it.
He doesn’t return my smile. Even with a permanent fixed scowl, he looks incredibly handsome in his suit tonight. All three men do. Brains is a knock-out in her Dina Bar-El gown. With her petite curvy frame and mass of black shiny curls, she has surely lit the flame that will send Storm’s rocket into orbit. They are definitely a couple in the making….just need a nudge in the right direction.
***
There is about ten minutes to go before my category is announced. So I have just enough time for yet another quick pee and touch-up of the lip gloss.
“I’m going to the powder room.” I gesture to Kane.
“Again? Are you sick?” Kane looks confused and irritated.
“No, I’m not sick! Just……nervous.” I admit shyly.
He shrugs. “Brains, go with her.”
“You don’t need to come in with me this time. I can pee all by myself. And I’m sure you will notice if any dodgy looking men try to enter the ladies room!” I raise a defiant eyebrow.
“She’s going with you, Sky. Brains, stand outside the damn door.” Kane throws me his best this is my show look.
Two minutes later, after swaying our way through the throng of tables, we have finally reached the powder room. As instructed, Brains takes her position by the door, as I enter alone. The powder room is empty much to my relief. One pee stop later, I am rifling through my clutch for my compact and gloss when another woman enters. She is exotic looking, with unusual violet almond eyes, and a designer dress that cost ten times more than mine. But I don’t recognise her from the journalism field. She flashes me a wide smile. I reciprocate and return to my touch-up.
“You are Sky Sinclair?” She pouts, while emptying the contents of her beaded bag onto the marbled counter.
“Yes I am, for my sins.” I laugh lightly, turning slowly to face her.
“Then I have a small gift for you.”
As I turn fully to face her, puzzled by her statement, I see a flash of something shiny and glass-like, as she lunges towards me. A sharp point of a needle skims millimetres from my arm catching in the silk of my gown. I lash out with all my weight behind me as she lunges again. I try to scream but my voice appears trapped in fear. The needle point again tears through the material missing its target. I swing an arm in panic, missing her, catching the edge of a cubicle doorframe. The sudden pain finally releases a scream from my mouth.
Brains bursts in through the door shouting into her wristwatch “Red, red, red!” She launches herself at my attacker. The woman ducks swiftly, throws a right hook at Brain’s jawline, and dives out of the door. Momentarily stunned, Brains spins 360 degrees chasing after her.
I stagger to my feet as the door to the powder room splinters and cracks under the force of Kane and Dalton crashing through it. In a split second, I am rushing through the exit, engulfed in his arms and pinned tightly against his body.
As we disappear from the building, I faintly hear over the microphone ‘And the winner tonight of the Specialist Journalist of the Year is Sky Sinclair……….’
Chapter Ten
DCI Mercer hands me the grainy CCTV image of the woman who attacked me in the powder room at the London Hilton three days ago. DCI Keaton leans across the coffee table sighing deeply. “I know it’s not much to go on, and to be honest, your description and account of events is better than a shitty grainy picture. But at least the CCTV image puts her in the vicinity. I know we have asked you this before….but you are certain that her accent was Russian?”
I nod, for the umpteenth time. “Yes, definitely. She was Russian.”
Jack Mercer scowls in frustration. “Alexei Bortsov is being interviewed as we speak. But he is denying knowing or ever meeting the woman who attacked you. But we’re pushing him….putting the pressure on. And the partial print on the victim’s bracelet came back negative for him. So we’re running it again against all our databases.”
“Surely she must have ditched the syringe somewhere. Is there any news on that?” Kane enters the living room, followed closely by Storm. Kane insisted since the incident that security be increased so now the full team take it in shifts to watch me 24/7 in the Safe House.
Jack raises his hands, irritated. “We swept every inch of Mayfair, Kane. Nothing. If your team had caught her, then……”
Kane balls both his hands into tight fists. “Don’t you think I’ve chewed the team enough?! She disappeared into thin air. She must have had back-up. Where the fuck were your guys, eh?” Kane roars stepping towards Jack aggressively. Storm pulls back his boss, forcing him into a chair.
John Keaton runs a hand through his hair. “Guys, this isn’t helping. We need to work together. Sky, call us if you remember anything else….no matter how insignificant it may seem.”
***
Alexei Bortsov slides his large frame into the back seat of his Bentley Azure positioned at the exit car park of New Scotland Yard. He pinches the bridge of his nose before turning to the man already seated. “Sort this mess out, Dmitry. I am losing patience at a very fast rate.”
Dmitry nods abruptly before responding. “Was it Natalya in the photograph?”
Alexei shakes the tension out of his neck. “Yes, but I denied knowing her. What was she thinking?”
“Perhaps she thought she was protecting you?” Dmitry tries to soften the tension in the air.
“Huh? Protecting me? She just brought shit right to my front door! And now she has disappeared too. Find Natalya, find Sky Sinclair and put an end to this, Dmitry!”
***
Storm snatches the mobile from his ear, smiles widely, and walks back through the French doors into the living room. He throws his muscular bulk into a chair and eyes his boss. Kane is a coiled spring ready to snap at any moment. Storm has never known Kane to lose his cool and he’s not about to let that happen to his buddy, his boss, now.
“Brains, get your shit together. You and I are going shopping.” Storm grins, folding himself back out of the chair.
Kane snaps up his head. “Shopping? What the fuck……”
Storm halts him before he implodes. “We will be an hour. Max. You always trusted me back in the day, didn’t you? Trust me now. It’s for your benefit, brother.”
Brains searches his face as they climb into the Brabus and pull out of the driveway. “What are you up to, Storm? Pissing off Kane right now is not a good move.”
He laughs confidently. “He’ll thank me later. But right now, he needs to chill out, maybe get laid, and we’re about to make that happen.”
***
The distinctive beep, beep of a text message breaks the silence and tension around the dining table. Storm thumbs the message open, reads it, before tossing it back onto the table. “They will be here in ten minutes.” He announces to Brains.
“Who? What’s going on, Storm?” Kane snaps at his buddy.
Storm leans back into his chair, wipes his mouth slowly with his napkin, and grins. “I’ve called in a favour so we can all have a night off. And you can skin my ass over it later, boss, but right now……you need a beer and maybe some poker.”
I leap out of my chair and wrap my grateful arms around his big neck. “Thank you, Storm. I think we’re all in need of that. Yeah…..fun times!” And I do a little happy jig around the table.
Kane shakes his head, releasing the remains of his scowl, and letting the beginnings of a smile break across his face. “I’m not happy, Storm……I lead this team. But damn, I need a beer. Who is the back-up?”
“Dixon and his crew. And we only have them for one night. They leave at six am sharp.”
Chapter Eleven
Kane takes another slug of his beer and narrows his eyes at me. “There is no such word, Sky. You are just making up words now!”
“Xylem is a word, I swear. It’s the woody parts of a plant.
” I giggle, jumping up in search of a dictionary. I sway with the sudden movement and stagger back into my seat.
“Yeah, it’s a word.” Brains slurs through a hiccup. Storm pats her on the back rather too heartily knocking her into the scrabble board. “Hey, watch it, freak. Nearly took me off my chair with that slap…..and spilled my wine. Don’t want me to put you on your ass again, do you, big guy?” She pouts playfully at him.
