Untaming Lily Wilde

by Olivia Fox

  “Girls’ night? Huh?! Do I know about this?” Lily’s head pulsed a dull ache. She really needed that coffee.

  Cayley, rolled her eyes. “You should know. Emma said she’d text you, that you’d definitely be up for it. Guess she forgot. Why am I not surprised?!” Oh yes, this sounded like the old Cayley.

  Lily shook herself. “No, wait,” She grabbed her phone from her coat pocket and opened the text which, thank heavens, had just about got her to work in time. “Here it is: Drinks, dance, danger (kidding) with me and Cayley this Sat or next (?) Ur coming! I just hadn’t read it. Oh stop with the pity looks, I just overslept!”

  “Fine. But you’ll come won’t you? It’ll be like old times - but with better shoes,” Cayley winked, and resisted glancing at Lily’s worn out flats, a kindness that didn’t go unnoticed.

  Lily thought of the whole Year-of-Sexual-Shenanigans thing and wanted to run for the hills. What on earth had she been thinking?! However, buried beneath the embarrassment, a small (and steadily shrinking) part of her wondered if this wasn’t just fear of the unknown? Didn't her diary deserve at least one semi-kinky adventure? And how was that ever going to happen if she spend her life shuffling between work and home?

  "Sure, count me in,” she said, with a confidence she hoped at least sounded genuine, “But next Saturday, not this one. My feet need to touch the floor at some point this week."

  "Great," Cayley grinned, "Right then darling, back to business I'm afraid. They're expecting us at The Ellington for half 11. You'll need to make sure the caterers are up to speed. I may have to delegate tasks to you here and there but for the most part you can just watch and learn. We've got a great relationship with the client; Harper Cane Legal have been using us for years, and this should be a pretty straight forward affair so let’s just try to project professional confidence. You'll be great. I'll phone the beautician."

  "Better had," mumbled Lily.

  "That's the spirit!"

  Cayley had been right. Prep was reasonably straight forward, bar a hiccup with the florist, and once Lily had gotten her head around who was doing what and when, the idea of co-choreographing the law firm's anniversary dinner seemed almost manageable.

  The girls had spent the following two hours being waxed, plucked, moisturized, manicured, pedicured, brushed, trimmed, and generally primped and preened until Lily's flesh tingled and her reflection glowed. So delighted was Cayley with the all new Lily Wilde, that she insisted on topping off the expedition by buying Lily some designer pumps with three inch heels, insisting they were essentials, and that the expense account would cover it.

  By the time they welcomed their guests into The Ellington's grand dining hall, Lily was a new woman, albeit a sore one (surely the bikini wax had been overkill, and those gorgeous new shoes were giving her designer blisters). Still, a showbiz smile was what was required, and Lily was going to give tonight her all.

  Lily followed Cayley's lead, mingling with caterers, musicians and audio-technicians; prompting speeches, symphonies and toasts. Cayley assured Lily that most of the work was in the prep, that tonight was more about keeping everything flowing as planned, whilst enjoying the spectacular eye candy. It was suddenly clear to Lily that her and Cayley’s tastes in men differed by a few million degrees. The clusters of clean cut, shiny shoed fellas in grey suits just didn’t get her kettle boiling. She scanned the hall coyly; no one. Dang. She liked the idea of a sexy stranger to faun over from afar. No such luck. The girls resumed their circuit with cheery, professional smiles; checking on the kitchen, then the service team, then… Lily caught her breath. Now, that’s more like it!

  Leaning in a doorway, lost in thought, was a man who cut through tonight’s mould. Early thirties, with loose black trousers hanging perfectly from just below his slim waist; deep plum shirt over wide shoulders, unbuttoned a little round a strong neck; tussled mahogany hair, and plenty of rough-shaven stubble; oh yes, he was one hundred percent Lily’s type. She laughed to herself, amused that the only guy she’d found attractive probably worked for the hotel. He sure didn’t look like the legal type, not if tonight was anything to go by. Oh Jesus, he’s seen me staring. Lily flushed crimson and almost lost her footing. Good one, Lily. Very subtle.

  Suddenly, Lily was being hustled to one side. Mr Bateman grabbed her wrist. "Emergency. Make yourself useful. Mrs Cane's overdone it again. Total lush. I'm putting you in charge of her needs so bloody well be discrete."

  Mrs Cane had left the dining hall and was making her way, destructively, along a corridor, toward the kitchen. Lily cursed her new heels as she stumbled after the older lady.

  "May I be of any assistance, Madam?" Lily panted, catching her breath, but doing her best to sound the part.

  "Labatowy," slurred Mrs Cane.

  "Lavatory? Of course, this way," Lily asserted, leading her to an adjoining corridor, past a flustered Mr Bateman, past a huddle of raucous legal secretaries, past the tall unshaven gentleman with his cocky smile and penetrating eyes… Hmm… Keep walking, Lily, now just focus, she told herself, nearly there…

  "I'm going to be sick. Oh God - girl - take this," yelled Mrs Cane, then she thrust her half-full glass of red wine precariously into Lily's hand. Her leopard-print, pill box hat, toppled to the floor as the woman threw herself into the washroom. Lily bent to get it, turning back as she straightened up. Then, catching her heel in the carpet, she tripped, lunged, and emptied the contents of the glass over - oh shit - Mr Bateman’s crotch.

  “You stupid fucking bitch!” He hissed.

  Before Lily had a chance to react, a deeper voice growled down the corridor, “Is there a problem, Mr Bateman?”

  Aw crap. Lily’s unshaven sex-god had just witnessed her extremely unsexy fall from grace.

  Bateman audibly yelped, “Lord Harper!”

  Lord Harper? OK. So this guy wasn’t a hotel employee.

  Bateman hurried towards him. “Such a surprise. I thought - well - we weren’t aware you’d be attending,” he grovelled, then whispered, “- what with it being the baronesa’s opening ceremony tonight.”

  Lord Harper’s voice was smooth, forceful. “I’m sure my wife can manage just fine without me. Now, I believe you were about to apologize to the young Miss…?” His eyes snared Lily’s.

  Oh God. His eyes… Storm grey and fierce. And oh, that look… softening for me. He’s not going to eat me. He’s going to eat Bateman. I should be relieved I guess, but… She could feel herself leaning in, straining to get closer. Christ, what’s wrong with me?! What did he just ask me?

  “Wilde - Miss Wilde,” Lily stammered. But she hadn’t missed that unfortunate word he’d just used. Wife. There goes my sex-god fantasy, straight down the drain, along with my job.

  “Miss Wilde then,” prompted Harper.

  “Of course, so sorry, Lily,” managed Bateman, before excusing himself with a nod, and scuttling towards to Gents.

  Lily gaped, into space. “Wow. I threw Merlot over my boss’s crotch. Holy shih-tzu. I threw Merlot over my boss’s crotch!”

  Harper laughed sympathetically. “Probably Rioja knowing Martha Cane.”

  Lily, on the other hand, didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or chase after Mr Bateman and thwack him upside the head.

  “Uh-huh - Rioja - right. Well I guess it’s good to get the details straight for my tombstone,” she said, wondering if it’d be such bad form just to grab her coat and call it quits now, rather than waiting for the hammer to fall tomorrow. Unfortunately, walking out just wasn’t her style. Ever the good girl, she thought with a sigh.

  “Oh, screw it. Honestly, I don’t care if he fires me. This isn’t really me, anyway. The shoes, the make-up, the whole mingling and smiling thing -”

  “Now that’s a shame. But, now I’m curious. What is the real Lily Wilde like?”

  Lily felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Is he flirting with me, she wondered. He’s a married man.

  “Actually, right now, I have no idea,” she said, feeling moronic -
but it was the truth. She was still trying to work out that little conundrum.

  She wasn’t meaning to be enigmatic, but never the less, her ambiguous answer seemed to peak his interest. He raised a curious eyebrow. There was something inscrutable about the way he looked at her. Something that made Lily’s mouth dry and her breathing shallow.

  “Well to tell the truth,” he said, “this isn’t really me either. I’m not really the company dinner type.”

  That took Lily by surprise. Surely this was his outfit. Lily felt flushed. The very sound of his voice was making her thighs tingle and her thoughts run crazy. The force of his stare was almost too much for her. She couldn’t hold his gaze. Could barely think straight under the heat of that scrutiny. Does he know what he’s doing to me?

  Her throat felt constricted. Her voice too tight. “No? But with a name like Lord Harper - well - isn’t this your company?”

  Lord Harper laughed. “Ah. I see what you mean, but no. My father’s that Harper, not me. I’m no lawyer. Usually I avoid these hobnobbing sessions like the plague.”

  “But - you’re here - so…”

  “So, I’ve spent a long time getting up to no good, and I figure it’s time I start behaving myself. What’s funny?”

  Lily’s cheeks were visibly burning up. “Nothing. It’s just - I seem to have the opposite problem.” Why am I telling him this?!

  If her previous comment had seemed to peak his interest, this little comment had sent his interest waltzing up Mount Kilimanjaro.

  “Go on…” he said. He twisted his lips to suppress a wry smile, but his eyes sparkled with curiosity all the same.

  “I’d better not,” she mumbled.

  Is he flirting? He wouldn’t surely. He’s married. Oh God, why am I so rubbish at recognizing the signs?

  “You are quite a perplexing woman.”

  Lily felt like a deer in headlights - no clue how to respond. God, he is flirting with me. Yay! No - not yay - bad Lily! Just another cheating sleaze-ball. But oh, those eyes… grey/blue, just a hint of smile lines. Jesus - what’s wrong with me?! OK - just say something. Anything. Talk, Lily. For God’s sake, talk!

  “Right - well - I should get back to work.”

  “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

  “Yes. God - I’m so sorry, where are my manners! Thank you - your - Lordship?” She felt ridiculous saying that. “ Thanks. Really. For intervening, I mean.”

  “You’re welcome. And please call me Seb - your Lordship sounds horrendous - but that’s not what I meant. Haven’t you forgotten Mrs Cane?”

  Lily frowned. “Mrs Cane? Oh, Jesus - Mrs Cane! I really am terrible at this job aren’t I?!” She gasped.

  “Breathe - it’s fine- I’ll help you get her back to her suite.”

  “Thank you - again - but no, I’d better do it myself. Christ, I hope she’s still conscious.”

  Seb sighed and adjusted his tie. “Suit yourself, but at least let me fetch Cayley. It’s a two man job,” he said, marching toward the hall, and not waiting for an answer.

  He knows Cayley, she mused. Of course he does. It was only just dawning on her that Mr Bateman had spoken to Seb as though he were a client. So what kind of business did Lord Seb Harper get up to? Lily was angry with herself for even caring. No good would ever come of obsessing over a married man. She, of all people, should know better. With a quick glance heavenward, she exhaled, reapplied her game-face, and headed courageously into the Ladies’.

  3

  Wed, Jan 12th

  10.45. Coffee in hand. Hiding behind computer. Pretending to work.

  Dear Miss Diary,

  Where to start?!

  Yesterday I managed to flamboyantly screw up things with Mr Cock-Face Bateman. However, I seem to still have my job this morning. And he still has his head (took all my self-control not to rip it off after what he called me). More importantly, I THINK a gorgeous, rich (possibly), MARRIED (definitely) man was chatting me up. Bloody typical. Well that's a step into badness I'm absolutely not willing to take. What is it with men?! He's probably one of those arrogant, pretty-boy types who just flirt for the attention.

  Better get back to work. Mr B is heading this way.

  "Cayley, I've forwarded you an email from Seb Harper. Lily's going to be helping with prep for the baronesa's party. You'd better print off the confidentiality statements for her to sign." Mr Bateman wasn't his usual self. He refused to look at Lily, and didn't even try to peek down Cayley's top.

  Cayley had a look of uncharacteristic confusion. Not, because of Mr Bateman's lack of sleaziness (which was Lily's first thought) but because Lord Harper wanted Lily involved in the baronesa's party arrangements.

  "Surely it's not that weird," Lily puzzled. "I mean I'm meant to be shadowing you, right?"

  "Well, yes you are, of course, but this client is - well -" Cayley hesitated, lowering her voice for emphasis, "- unusual."

  Lily cocked an eyebrow. "Unusual how? Oh! Not love-bead unusual?"

  Cayley pursed her lips trying not to smile. "Possibly," she smirked. "And possibly much, much more. But, before I can discuss any of that with you..." she trailed off and gave her mouse a few clicks before continuing, "There!" The printer whirred to life, churning out sheet after sheet. "Read it, sign it, then we'll talk."

  That was one hell of a lot of paperwork.

  Fortifying herself with a second Americano, Lily began to read. Even the title was long winded: Confidentiality Arrangements Pertaining to Events Hosted by Baronesa Ana Pancheva and Lord Sebastian Harper.

  After an hour spent reading, double-taking and reading again, Lily had gleaned three important pieces of information.

  1. Her mystery man and his wife hosted pleasure (sex!) parties.

  2. Their guests' (paying guests!) identities were top secret and not to be shared with the prep staff. Prep staff who, by the way, would not under any circumstances be present during events.

  3. Prep staff were to be kept to an absolute minimum, and would be vetted.

  So this was what Lord Seb Harper had meant when he said he'd been up to no good. Sheesh. A married couple, hosting orgies. Well each to their own, Lily thought, but swinging really wasn't her thing. The idea of it! Icky, groping hands in seedy hot tubs. No. Really not her thing.

  But it didn't really add up. Seb said he was trying to behave himself, but then at the same time he was almost certainly flirting. So which was it? Was he in swinger mode or cheating a-hole mode?

  The worst part was she couldn't stop thinking about him. It was beyond frustrating. She’d wasted precious sleeping hours mulling over the shape of his lips, the angle of his cheek bones, that indecent twinkle in his eye. She’d imagined him devouring her with his eyes, then grasping her wrists, yanking them above her head, pinning her to a wall, holding her there with one hand while unbuttoning her top with his other. She imagined the heat of his lips on her neck, her collar bone, her -

  “Er, Lily? Hello? I said, have you signed it yet?” Cayley was drumming her nails impatiently on her desk.

  “Oh - er - no… there. All done,” Lily stammered, her cheeks glowing.

  Cayley laughed. “Yeah, I must have looked like that when I first read it, but honestly, once you get to work, it’s just like dealing with any other client on any other job.”

  “Except for the love-beads,” murmured Lily.

  “Might we be fixating a tad, young lady?!” Cayley mocked. “The beads are nothing compared to some of the stuff they get up to, believe me. Your virgin eyes are in for a treat.”

  “Enough of the virgin nonsense. And I’m sure I’ll cope, thanks for the concern,” Lily derided, poking out her tongue in a mock huff.

  “Good. Can’t have you going all coy and squeamish in front of the clients now can we!” Cayley winked. “Right - actually, having you on board is going to make this a hell of a lot easier. It’s a five day event, Tuesday to Saturday, so there’s loads to do. The theme is Bacchanal - you know - Ancient Rome, togas, urns, wine,
debauchery...”

  “Uh huh - think I get the picture.”

  Cayley continued, “Anyway, I’m going to give you a list of bits and bobs to order; props, themed decor, that kind of thing. Double-check quantities, and make sure you buy from our list of approved stockists. I hope you’ve got plenty of concealer and Pro Plus. You’ll need it. This is likely to be an exhausting week. Great way for you to learn the ropes though. Plus you’ll get to see their mansion on Monday - Hatherly is totally knock-out. You’ll love it. Just a pity we’re not allowed to stay for the action. Oh, don’t look so shocked - I’m kidding. Mostly.”

  Action… with him… Lily’s imagination was ablaze. She shook herself back to reality.

  Blushing, she did her best to sound casual, "Funny though. I mean, he's not your archetypal swinger is he?"

  Cayley looked up from her laptop. "I don't think it's like that. I mean, the guests are mostly single as far as I know."

  “Oh,” said Lily, trying not to sound too intrigued, “I just assumed. But he is married, so don’t they - you know - join in?”

  “Who knows. These days Lord Harper hardly pays any interest in the prep. It's mostly her making the decisions. But maybe, you know, when the night gets underway. What I wouldn't give to see that man naked. Mmm..."

  "Cayley! I'm shocked!" Lily exclaimed in mock horror, "I wouldn't have pegged him as your type."

  "Oh, I think a man like that is everyone's type, no? Even with the stubble he's fairly swoonsome. But just wait ‘til you meet Grayson, their lawyer. He’s always there. Undiluted, eau de phwoar!"

  Lily had to laugh. She’d forgotten this facet of Cayley. The sassy flip side to her super-efficient demeanour. However, Lily’s smile soon vanished when Cayley spun round her laptop.