As soon as I put this one on, though, I fell in love with it. It’s black silk, as decreed by Andrei, and deliciously proper and yet sexy at the same time, with a very tight, short inner shell and a gauzy overdress that floats over my arms and around my thighs. It came with a pair of dangerously high black silk heels that perfectly complemented its quality of subtle seduction. Surrounded by stiff satins with netting, boned bodices and sequins, I stood gazing at my reflection and knew that this was the one.
Now, as we glide through the London streets listening to Rachmaninov, heading out west, rich red rubies are glinting at my ears.
This is exactly what he wanted, I think to myself, glancing over at Andrei. Did he plan this from the very start? I had the illusion of choice – choice about accepting the earrings and whether or not to come tonight – but perhaps he knew what my decision would be. He looks incredible in black dinner suit, a silk bow-tie at his neck, controlling the car with practised ease. But then, I remind myself, all men look good in a well-cut formal suit and if they happen to have a powerful frame and a magnetic charisma, they’ll look even better.
Once we are out of the London traffic and on the motorway, Andrei puts his foot down and soon we’re flying past all other cars. Around us, night is falling, velvety and dark blue, and a golden autumn moon is rising.
If only this were Dominic, it would be incredibly romantic. But I remember with a delicious shiver of anticipation that he might be at this party – and that’s why I’m here after all.
Andrei says nothing until, after about an hour of fast but incredibly smooth travel, we turn off the motorway and a few minutes later pull to a halt in front of a beautiful old Cotswold stone mansion, glowing golden in floodlights.
‘Is this where the party is?’ I ask.
‘No,’ he says abruptly, turning off the car and getting out. ‘This is where we dine.’
He comes round to my side of the Bentley, opens the door and helps me out. When I’m standing on the gravel, he tucks my arm under his, tosses the keys to a waiting valet, and we walk inside.
It is evidently a very expensive restaurant and we’re shown to a table set with crisp linen and gleaming silverware. Andrei orders for us without my even seeing a menu, and a few minutes later I’m sipping at a glass of cold Pouilly-Fumé, facing him across the table and wondering exactly how I ended up here.
‘I want to tell you something,’ Andrei says, leaning towards me. His eyes are intense and serious. ‘You look beautiful tonight.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, feeling a little awkward. I realise that I’m not sure what the terms of this dinner are. I haven’t been asked on a date, and if I had, I would have most certainly said no. And yet, we look for all the world like a romantic couple celebrating some intimate anniversary or embarking on a love affair. But he’s just being polite, isn’t he?
‘You looked beautiful that night at Mark’s house, too.’ He takes a sip of wine while he seems to be remembering. ‘I liked that red dress particularly. But then... you look beautiful when you’re sitting on the floor of my study, lost in my pictures, frowning in that funny way you have, running your fingers through your hair when you’re especially thoughtful. I like looking at you then, when you don’t know I’m watching you.’ He leans closer to me. ‘But you’ve never looked as ravishing as that morning at the monastery, when you almost vibrated with life and sensuality. That’s when I knew I wanted to get to know you, much, much better.’
I’m staring at him, in a kind of vortex of horror mixed with something painfully like pleasure. I’m beautiful? He thinks I’m beautiful? But then: Oh no, he wants something from me. He wants... oh God, what have I got myself into? I’m sitting here, in the dress he paid for, with jewels he gave me... like some kind of courtesan! Of course it looks like I’m prepared to think about him in that way. Oh shit – how am I going to get out of this?
I try to stay calm and keep my nerve. So I’m going to have to do battle with a Russian tough guy. He doesn’t scare me. Much.
‘Andrei,’ I say firmly, ‘I’m very flattered that you think I’m beautiful, but you know our relationship is strictly professional. Besides, you have a girlfriend or a... a friend, and I have a boyfriend.’
He raises his eyebrows, that piercing gaze appearing almost to read my mind. ‘A boyfriend? I don’t believe you.’
‘It’s true.’
‘What’s his name?’
I pause and falter, realising I can’t give Dominic’s name but not having another ready at hand. ‘He’s... er... he’s called... John.’
‘Ha!’ The laugh comes out like a shout. ‘You’re lying, it’s obvious. You don’t have a boyfriend. Besides, what does that matter? I don’t see why two people who are attracted to one another shouldn’t act on their impulses. You are not married, neither am I.’
‘But,’ I say, sounding a little prim, ‘I’m not attracted to you.’
A grin, mischievous and boyish, spreads across his face, and he leans in towards me almost conspiratorially. ‘Oh, yes you are. You might not think so – but you are. And believe me...’ his eyes lock on mine and his voice drops to a whisper ‘...when we do make love together, it will be explosive.’
My mouth has gone dry and I feel slightly dizzy. That picture of Andrei naked flashes back into my mind, but now the woman on the bed, throwing back her head ecstatically, rubies glinting in her ears, is me. Horrified, I dismiss it instantly and recover myself. ‘I’m sorry, Andrei, but that’s not going to happen. If you don’t accept that, then I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay here or come to this party with you. Those are my terms.’
‘You like your terms, don’t you? Your contracts and letters of agreement, everything set out just so. You are trying to control me, build little walls to keep me contained. I warn you, it won’t work. No one can do that.’ He laughs again as he picks up a piece of bread from the basket on the table and rips it up. ‘What will you do, Beth? Walk back up the motorway? In those shoes? It’s quite a long way back to London.’
‘I could call a taxi. Or...’ I look about. I noticed a reception area when we came in. ‘I’ll stay here. Isn’t this a hotel as well?’
‘Well observed. Yes, a very good hotel.’ He seems to relent. ‘Well, if you honestly don’t want to come to the party with me, I will put you up here and go alone. I can get a room for myself for later and drive you home in the morning.’
I’m flummoxed. I don’t know what to say. I do want to go to the party, in order to see Dominic, but I can’t tell him that so after a moment, I say, ‘I... I’ll come if you accept that nothing will happen between us.’
His lips twitch again, as if he’s secretly amused. ‘All right. I accept it. Nothing will happen between us. Not at the party. Perhaps not even tonight. But it will one day. Not just because I want it, but because you do too.’
‘I don’t think so, Mr Dubrovski,’ I say in my most spirited voice. ‘I’m afraid you’ll be waiting for that day a very long time.’
He looks pained as he says, ‘Andrei, please. Let’s not go backwards. We’re friends after all, aren’t we?’
Before I can answer, the waiter arrives with our starters and the moment passes.
Against all my expectations, I enjoy the dinner very much. Andrei’s charm, which turns out to be considerable when he chooses to use it, soon makes me forget the awkward start, but even with our friendly conversation, mostly about art, the memory of the compliment he paid me lingers in my mind. I remind myself that he doesn’t interest me in the slightest.
‘Aren’t we going to be late for the party?’ I ask, as I notice that it’s after eleven o’clock and we are still finishing our coffee.
‘No, no. It will just be beginning,’ Andrei says. Nonetheless, he calls for the bill and while he’s settling it up, I go to the ladies’ room. I freshen up and take a few moments to examine my reflection. I’m looking my best tonight, my blue eyes are sparkling with the effect of a wonderful meal and a few glasses of wine, and the
dress is even more gorgeous than I remembered. The beautiful shoes lengthen my legs and make me look taller and more willowy than I am in real life. My fair hair falls around my shoulders and my cheeks are pink with anticipation. ‘Not long,’ I whisper to myself, ‘and I’ll be with Dominic again.’
I go back to join Andrei who is waiting in the lobby. A few minutes later we’re on our way again, this time driving into the blackness of the countryside. Andrei seems to know exactly where we are going and I relax into the leather seats, enraptured by the dark shadowy hedges flying past outside the window.
It seems like no time at all when the car pulls to a halt again. This time we’re in absolute blackness in what looks like a forest, the car headlights illuminating only trees and dense undergrowth.
‘This is where the party is?’ I say, peering into the darkness outside. I’m suddenly on edge. There’s no obvious party at all. What if he’s brought me here for some terrible reason, out in the middle of nowhere, where we’re completely alone? No one knows where I am, I realise, with a chill.
Andrei leans across me, almost making me gasp, and opens the glove compartment. He pulls out two masks, one plain black to cover half the face from the forehead to just above the mouth, and the other embellished with sequins and airy black feathers, designed to obscure the eyes and cover the cheeks, the feathers providing a further veil to the features. He hands the feathery one to me. ‘Put this on. I will wear the other one.’
‘Why do we have to wear this?’
‘It is a masked party, of course. Very glamorous.’
At least there’s definitely a party. Though God alone knows where it is. I take the delicate confection and pull it on over my face.
‘Very good,’ Andrei says softly, and puts on his own mask. Instantly he becomes almost entirely anonymous. It’s only the bright blue of his eyes against the velvety blackness and his jutting lower lip below the mask that distinguishes him. ‘Come on,’ he says, and his voice sounds harsher than ever. ‘Let’s go.’
He comes again to help me out of the car and we stand together for a moment in the light from the car’s interior, gazing at one another, suddenly strangers with the masks over our faces. Then he slams the car door shut and we’re sunk in darkness. Just as I’m wondering how we will find our way to this mysterious party, a light comes on. Andrei is using a torch to illuminate our way. I need his arm now as I negotiate the shadowy path in my heels, utterly unaware of the way. We seem to be walking on stones or gravel and I guess that we’re crossing a car park or a driveway. Within a short time, though, I see a golden light and we are clearly going towards it. It soon resolves into a doorway, but beyond there doesn’t appear to be a house or building, just a glowing passageway disappearing into nowhere.
We reach the doorway where masked attendants are waiting outside to guide us in. They murmur something to Andrei and his reply is evidently satisfactory, as we’re led into the passageway with low ceilings and walls that appeared to be carved from rock.
‘Where are we?’ I say, peering ahead as we keep moving. The ground is definitely sloping downwards. We’re descending.
‘Caves,’ Andrei replies, putting his other hand over mine where it rests on his arm. ‘We’re going into catacombs.’
Almost at once I begin to hear noise: music, a booming beat, the roar of a large crowd. We begin to move by other people, glamorous and strange in their masks as they stand in the passageway, holding glasses. As the passageway slopes away, I see other passages leading off towards small caves that are illuminated by candles glowing in sconces. I can’t quite see what’s happening in them, but I can make out movement.
Are they dancing? I wonder, but we move on before I grasp what’s happening. Suddenly the passageway opens out and we reach a large chamber with a huge curved ceiling that makes me think of being inside a beehive or a wasp’s nest, as it rises in gentle stages to a soft dome. Men in black tie and women in gorgeous gowns, all masked in various ways, are drinking, talking and dancing. I can’t stop looking about: some wear gorgeous embellished Venetian masks, others simple eye-coverings in lace or silk. Others wear leather, embellished with studs and chains. A few men have animal heads on: wolf or lion masks. A woman in a stunning white silk dress has a white furry rabbit face with soft ears pointing perkily upwards.
Andrei leans in and murmurs in my ear, ‘When no one knows who you are, you can do precisely what you please. Now, let me get you a drink.’ He leads me towards an alcove where barmen stand behind a polished zinc counter, shaking cocktails for the people at the bar. Despite the crowds, a barman is instantly at Andrei’s disposal, and a moment later he’s passing me a vodka martini with a twist of lemon peel floating in it. He takes one himself and leads me away. I’m almost too busy looking about at the fascinating sights to notice that I’m holding a drink and that my arm is still over Andrei’s. But, I realise, I do need him. The floor is uneven and I’m wary of tripping in these extraordinary high shoes.
Then a thought strikes me. How on earth am I going to recognise Dominic? Everyone is masked. All the men look the same in their dinner suits. I feel a great wash of disappointment. The chances of meeting him in this strange place, with its many caves and passages, its throng of people, seem remote. I don’t have my phone with me, even if he knew I was here. My only hope is that somehow Andrei will know where we’re going to find the others. And he has his phone after all. We leave the main room and go up one of the passages to a cave that is roped off, a woman standing outside. She’s wearing a long red evening dress and her mask is plain black and very simple, just covering her eyes. She has bright blond, almost white, hair that ripples down her back and around her shoulders, and brightly painted full lips.
As we approach, she regards us curiously and Andrei mutters ‘Dubrovski’ to her.
She squeals and says, ‘Andrei! I didn’t recognise you at all. But you look marvellous.’ She leans forward and makes a kissing noise as her cheeks brush his. ‘How wonderful to see you.’
‘Thank you. How are you, Kitty?’
‘I’m very well, thank you. Doesn’t the party look gorgeous? We’re going to have a riotous time. Let me know if you want someone to show you around, but there’s plenty to amuse. And very private places if you find you need one. Just say the word. There’ll be a cabaret a little later as well.’
Cabaret... A picture floats into my mind. I’m sitting in The Asylum, the private club that came to play such a role in my life. James is with me, and we’re watching a cabaret but it’s no ordinary show. It’s an erotic burlesque that ends with a display of flogging, and watching it are people quietly indulging themselves in all manner of activities. Afterwards, customers take private rooms to work out any lusts that have become inflamed after what they saw.
I realise suddenly and with great clarity that this is a party where anything goes. With the surfeit of beautiful people, the strange anonymity of the masks, the drink and the music – this is a place where no one wants to stop when their desires are sparked into life.
Oh my goodness, what have I done? What have I let myself in for? Is this going to become an orgy? Is that why Andrei wants me here with him?
These thoughts fly through my mind as Kitty unfastens the velvet rope and allows us inside the cave beyond. It is furnished with velvet banquettes, wide enough almost to be day beds, and small tables, and lit by Moroccan lanterns. No one else is there. We go in and sit down. I take a shaky sip of my drink. Everything has changed.
‘What’s wrong?’ Andrei says, watching me carefully.
I don’t say anything. Anger is roiling in the pit of my stomach. How dare he bring me to a place like this without any warning, any preparation?
As though he can read my mind, he says, ‘You will not see or do anything you do not want to see or do. While these parties are very free, they are also done with immaculate taste. Kitty makes sure of that. Only those who desire to cross boundaries do so.’
‘And is that what you do?’ I say
, my voice tight.
‘I do whatever I wish. You should do the same.’ He leans a little closer to me. ‘You English girls can find it a little difficult to please yourselves and follow your deepest desires. You can be very repressed. You should let go.’
‘You know nothing about me.’ I’m almost spitting the words out. I’m furious that he should speak to me like this, about a side of my life that belongs to me. Just because he’s got money doesn’t mean he can buy people or see into their souls. ‘Nothing at all. How dare you assume anything about me or my life?’
Andrei looks surprised, then his eyes flash with temper. But a second later, his expression softens and he looks almost repentant. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. That was rude. Unforgiveable. I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have brought you here. Finish your drink and we will leave.’
‘Perhaps that’s best,’ I reply icily. I don’t want to meet Dominic here, like this. It’s not what I want at all. I take another sip of my drink. It’s strong, citrusy and burns a little as it slips down my throat.
‘You think this is sordid,’ he says. ‘But I would hate such a thing myself. I would not tolerate it. I love beauty, you know that. We’re here because it is a wonderful, liberating experience to be anonymous, free to enjoy yourself, to dance and drink and forget everything for a few hours. I was wrong to imply anything about you personally. I’ve been thinking only of myself and my desire to relax in safety.’
Secrets After Dark Page 10
