Beautiful Liar

by Tara Bond

So, feeling like I had no other option, I did something that I knew my mother wouldn’t approve of. I took out my phone and called Duncan Noble.

  Chapter 3

  I spent the night on Doreen’s sofa. It was pretty much my only option. Growing up with an alcoholic parent made it difficult to form friendships. Mum’s drinking habit was our family’s dirty little secret, something that had to be continually covered up, and it was impossible to form meaningful relationships if you were always hiding the truth.

  The following morning, just before eleven, I stepped off the Tube at Canary Wharf, London’s newest business district. I had fifteen minutes to get to my meeting with Duncan Noble, the multimillionaire owner of luxury leisure group Noble Enterprises.

  As I walked through the underground shopping centre to his offices, I tried to ignore the churning in my stomach. I had no idea what kind of reception I was going to get from the man—in fact, quite honestly, I still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to see me. My father had worked as his chauffeur for about a decade before he died, and from what I understood, they’d gone from employer and employee to close friends over that time. But still . . . it had been almost six years since I’d last seen Duncan Noble. I’d only called out of desperation the day before because I couldn’t think of any other option. But I just hoped I hadn’t made a mistake.

  Noble Enterprises was located at One Canada Square. It was the tallest skyscraper in the Wharf, fifty storeys high and home to everything from boutique hedge-fund-management firms to advertising agencies. I walked into the huge marble lobby and tried not to look as intimidated as I felt. Security checked my bag, and then reception took my name and called up to make sure that I was expected.

  Once I was signed in, and had been issued a name tag, I took the lift up forty floors to where Noble Enterprises was based. Now I was there, I felt a flutter of nerves—but there was no turning back. I needed help, and this was the only idea I’d had.

  A haughty blonde, who looked only a few years older than me, was there to greet me when I stepped out of the lift. She introduced herself as Pandora Spencer, Duncan Noble’s PA. I didn’t exactly have much in the way of a wardrobe, so I’d opted for my usual tough-girl look—jeans, T-shirt and biker boots. Next to the well-groomed Pandora, in her tailored black dress and heels, I felt decidedly scruffy.

  Pandora must have been of the same opinion, because as her sharp eyes ran over me I could tell she wasn’t impressed with what she saw.

  “Duncan’s ready to see you.” Her voice was clipped and unfriendly, as though I wasn’t worth making an effort for. “So if you’d like to follow me.”

  She didn’t attempt any small talk as we walked. The workplace was open-plan, but at the sides there were glassed-off offices, which I guessed were for the senior employees. Naturally Duncan Noble had the best of these—a corner office, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a direct view across the Thames to London’s newest landmark, the Shard.

  Duncan Noble stood as we entered. Six years on, he hadn’t changed much. An attractive man in his late fifties, he had that suave sophistication that made older men like Sean Connery and Pierce Brosnan eternally appealing—from his salt-and-pepper hair to his Italian wool suit and handmade leather shoes.

  “Nina.” Duncan didn’t smile as he greeted me. In fact, he remained behind his desk, and put out his hand. “It’s been a long time.”

  The coolness of his welcome surprised me. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting—but perhaps a little more exclamation over how much I’d grown up. Wasn’t that what usually happened when you saw someone you’d known as a child and were meeting again as an adult? Instead, I got the feeling he really wished I wasn’t there.

  “Thank you again for seeing me.” I stepped forward and shook his hand, deciding the best way to deal with the situation was to match his formal tone.

  He gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. “So before we start, can Pandora get you a coffee or anything?”

  I saw her lips thin at the prospect of having to fetch me a drink, and I have to confess that it was almost enough to make me ask for something. But that would have meant prolonging the meeting, and I frankly wanted to get this over and done with.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” I told him.

  Pandora retreated from the room before I could change my mind. Once she’d gone, Duncan sat back down in his leather Eames chair, and indicated for me to take the seat opposite.

  Once we were both settled, he fixed me with a steely gaze. “So, Nina.” His tone was brusque and businesslike. “I presume this isn’t a social visit. So why don’t you cut to the chase and tell me what the hell you’re doing here?”

  To be honest, the aggressiveness of his question didn’t surprise me. After all, his last interaction with my family hadn’t exactly been pleasant.

  On the day of my dad’s funeral, Duncan had promised to look after our family, and for the first few months, he’d given my mother money and checked in on us all the time. Then one night, I’d woken to the tail end of a huge argument between him and my mother. I’d crept downstairs in time to hear her ordering him out of the house and telling him never to come near us again.

  That was the last I’d seen of him. No wonder he was a little wary about my sudden reappearance in his life.

  Luckily, I’d thought through what I wanted to say to him. So I ignored his hostility, and launched into my speech. “That last night at the house—you said if I was ever in trouble, I should come to you.” He’d spotted me on the stairs when he was leaving, and slipped me his business card before my mother could see.

  “I remember.”

  “Well, I need your help.”

  Given the history between my mum and him, I’d decided it was best not to talk about her part in the story, just in case he refused to help. Instead, I told him that I’d been at university, got myself into some financial difficulty, and had to drop out.

  “So how much do you want from me?” he said, once I’d finished speaking.

  It took me a second to work out what he was getting at. “You think I’m here for money?”

  His lips curved into a cynical smile. “It would feel like a safe assumption.”

  “God, no!” I didn’t want him to think I was a scrounger. “I just want a job.”

  I’d stayed up late the previous night working out the logistics of how I could get us out of this mess. I actually had enough savings to cover Mum’s rehab—courtesy of a small inheritance from my father when I turned eighteen, plus I’d saved every penny I could from my jobs over the years. I’d planned to use the cash to help April out with university, but getting my mum sober would have to take precedence.

  Unfortunately paying for rehab would pretty much clear me out—which meant I needed a job, and one that paid well. Given the current youth unemployment in London, my chances of securing anything other than minimum wage seemed unlikely. And I didn’t have the time for a lengthy interview process. Which made Duncan Noble my best option.

  “Well,” he began, and with that one word my heart sank. I could tell he was about to turn me down. “I applaud you for showing the initiative to come here. But I don’t believe we have any openings at the moment.” He pulled open the top drawer of his desk, and took out a chequebook and flipped it open. “However, I’d be more than happy to help you clear your debts. Maybe even pay for you to continue at university—”

  I was already on my feet as he picked up his Montblanc pen and started to write.

  “I already told you, I don’t want your money.” The sharp tone of my voice must have got through to him because he stopped what he was doing and looked up at me. “I need a job, not charity,” I said more reasonably. After all, he’d been good enough to see me. “I understand if that’s not possible, so thank you for your time. I think it’s best if I go.”

  I could feel tears of frustration pricking at my eyes, and I turned away quickly, eager to leave before I let myself down by crying. My hand was on the cold stainless-steel
handle of the glass door when he said, “Wait.”

  I looked back, and saw that he was frowning at me.

  “You’re really not going to accept any financial help?” He was looking at me with undisguised disbelief.

  “I just want a job.”

  He stared at me for a long moment, and I could tell he was debating what to do.

  “Before I give you an answer,” he said finally, “I need you to tell me one thing—does your mother know you’re here?”

  It wasn’t quite the response I’d been expecting. “No, she doesn’t.” To that day, I had no idea what had happened between them—but I could take a good guess. Knowing my mother, she’d probably asked him for an outrageous sum of money, or else she’d made a pass at him . . . “I didn’t think she’d approve.”

  I’d hoped he might elaborate—explain what had gone on between them. But instead he said, “Look, Nina, I’ll be honest with you. I admire you for coming here today. I think of myself as a good judge of character, and I suspect you’re a conscientious person, like your father. So, as long as you swear to me that your mother won’t learn of my involvement in this, then I’m happy to help you.”

  I blinked, taken aback. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m saying I’ll find you a job in my organisation. As long as you swear to me that your mother will learn nothing of this. So can you do that?”

  I realised he was waiting for an answer. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  “Good. Because now I think about it, I seem to remember we’re looking for staff at one of our nightclubs—Destination. You’ve probably heard of it?”

  I hadn’t—cool London clubs weren’t exactly my scene; I had neither the money nor the time to go to them. But that was the least of my problems. Working in a nightclub wasn’t ideal. I couldn’t imagine it impressing Social Services. I was meant to be proving that I could provide a stable place for my sister to live in—working unsociable hours around alcohol wasn’t going to do that.

  But I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, and it wasn’t like I had any other options, so I swallowed down my disappointment. “That sounds great. Thank you.”

  “My son, Giles, is the club manager. I’ll arrange for you to meet him tomorrow afternoon. He’ll keep an eye on you.”

  I was a bit confused by that. After his initial hostility, he was now tasking someone to look out for me. It was quite a turn around.

  I might have dwelt on that longer, but right then the phone rang. Duncan looked at the display, and snatched up the receiver.

  “Pandora?” So it was the icy blonde PA. “What? He’s here now?” His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. “We were meant to be having a breakfast meeting three hours ago.” I couldn’t make out Pandora’s response, but whatever it was, Duncan rolled his eyes. Whoever was there, he was clearly irritated by them. “Tell him to give me five minutes.”

  He slammed the phone down, and then turned his attention back to me.

  “Well, I think that’s everything.” He stood, and I could tell he wanted me to leave. “Pandora will give you the details for Destination. And as I said, if you need anything else, just ask Giles. He’ll look after you.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “As I said, I’m happy to help you out. It’s the least I can do for Jack Baxter’s daughter. But I don’t want any trouble, especially from your mother. So all I ask is that you keep her out of this.”

  He clearly wasn’t looking for a response, so I didn’t give him one. We shook hands briefly, and I made my way back towards Pandora’s desk. As I approached, I saw that she wasn’t alone—in fact, the ice queen had melted and was instead giggling up at a tall, well-built young man, who was draped across her desk, looking as though he owned the place.

  He was maybe in his early twenties, and he had that aristocratic look about him—with chin-length, dishevelled black hair falling across a perfectly symmetrical face. The high cheekbones, straight nose and porcelain skin might have seemed almost effeminate if he hadn’t had a spattering of designer stubble across his chiselled jawline, giving a bad-boy roughness to his looks. I wondered who he was. I’d assumed he’d be someone Duncan was interviewing—but if he was there for a job, he didn’t seem too bothered about making a good first impression. Not only was he late, but he only seemed interested in chatting up Duncan’s PA.

  The man said something I couldn’t hear, and Pandora giggled again. They were so engrossed in each other that they clearly had no idea I was there, so I had no choice but to noisily clear my throat.

  They both looked up. Pandora scrunched up her small nose, clearly irritated at having her flirtation session disturbed. But it was the stranger who drew me up short. For a second, all I could see were his eyes—they were the palest shade of ice-blue I’d ever seen, and watchful and predatory, like a wolf’s. There was something almost unnatural about them. He looked me over with what seemed to be cool disinterest.

  “I suppose this means the old man’s free.” His voice took me by surprise—I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that low, upper-class drawl. And what was it with the derogatory way he’d referred to Duncan Noble as “the old man”? The stranger turned back to Pandora, who was getting to her feet. “Don’t worry, beautiful. I’ll show myself in.”

  He stood then, and I could see he was even more physically imposing than I’d realised—at least six foot two, and with a lean, athletic build. But it wasn’t just his size that made him stand out. In black fitted trousers, a white pirate shirt and burgundy-velvet jacket, he had that flamboyant look of the Romantic era. He looked even more out of place than me in that corporate environment.

  He sauntered over, and as he passed me his ice-blue eyes met mine. There was something in the way he looked at me—an almost penetrating stare that seemed designed to unnerve me. Our gaze held for a second. To my shame, I was the first to look away.

  Then he was gone, leaving me alone with a clearly miffed Pandora.

  “Well?” she demanded. “What do you need?”

  I forced myself back to the present, and tried to forget about those ice-cold blue eyes.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, I stood outside the gates of my sister’s school. It was lunch break, and so the pupils were in the playground. April knew to look out for me. At the hospital, I’d whispered that I’d drop by St. Mary’s, so we didn’t have to wait for the official visiting times arranged by our social worker, Maggie.

  I spotted her easily. She was walking dejectedly, looking tired and pale. I could tell she was fighting the urge to cry.

  She ran over to where I was standing. I wanted to hug her, but we had to settle for linking hands through the fence. I quickly asked her how she was getting along—aware that we didn’t have much time before she’d need to go in for afternoon classes.

  The house she was in wasn’t too bad, she told me. The foster parents seemed nice enough, but there were three other kids staying there, and one of the girls looked like she could be trouble. She’d already taken April’s lunch money that morning.

  I didn’t like the sound of that. I told April I’d have a word with Maggie and see what she could suggest. Meanwhile, I searched in my pocket and gave my sister all the money I had on me, and told her to keep it out of view. I also passed her the mobile that I’d managed to rescue from our flat, so we could keep in touch.

  April took the cash and phone from me, and hid them away like I’d instructed. But she still didn’t look happy.

  “I don’t want to stay there,” she said.

  “I know. Trust me, I’m doing everything I can to get you back.”

  From inside the school building, a bell sounded, signalling afternoon classes.

  “Oh no.” April’s hands tightened on the metal fence that separated us, and she looked up at me in distress. “I don’t want to go yet.”

  I could tell she was about to cry, so I placed my right hand on h
ers, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

  “I promise this won’t be for long. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure we’re back together soon.”

  She looked up at me with large, hopeful eyes. “All of us? Even Mum?”

  It took all my effort to force a smile. “Yeah, Mum too.”

  That seemed to reassure her, and she left looking more at ease than before.

  I stood and watched until she disappeared inside the school building, aware that I needed to do everything within my power to make this job at Destination work.

  Chapter 4

  The following afternoon, I got off the Tube at Green Park, the closest stop for Destination. Naturally the nightclub was located in Mayfair, one of the most exclusive areas of London. I walked by the Ritz, and crossed the road, heading down Old Bond Street. My route took me by all the expensive boutiques—Tiffany, Louis Vuitton, Jimmy Choo . . . Beautifully coiffed women emerged from the shops, followed by their drivers, who were laden down with bags. What on earth was I doing here?

  After my meeting with Duncan Noble, I’d googled Destination, and now I was even more convinced that it wasn’t my kind of place. It was a private members’ club, aimed at a young, cool and wealthy crowd. Money and good looks seemed like a prerequisite. To me, it sounded pretentious and elitist, two things I hated. But for now I’d have to make the best of it.

  I made my way through the maze of elegant streets until I reached Destination. Like most of the Mayfair nightclubs, it was located in the basement of one of the grand townhouses. The beautiful buildings had once been the London residences of the country’s richest people, but now they were embassies, five-star hotels and hedge-fund-management offices. From the outside, there was no sign, but I followed the directions to the side entrance, where I’d been told to go.

  I pressed the intercom.

  “Yes?” a clipped voice said.

  I confirmed that I was in the right place, and gave my name and reason for being there. A second later, I was buzzed in.