By Invitation Only- The Series

by Zane Michaelson

  I had to stop daydreaming about him.

  He was gone, and I had my own life to set in some sort of order.

  Go to bed, I told myself.

  So, I did.

  Grabbing the Vodka from the shelf above the radiator cover, I hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and a bottle of full fat Cola from the fridge and headed upstairs.

  I lay snuggled in my queen-sized bed, binge watching Gilmore Girls until the Vodka I’d guzzled kicked in and I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.

  Chapter Four

  Zander paced the floor of his study.

  Being back in the family home always unsettled him, but this time, memories of what once was crowded his thoughts.

  He remembered the last time he was here with his beloved mother. As always, she was interested in her children’s lives. A devoted mother, she didn’t like to be apart from them, but a last-minute trip separated them forever.

  Alyssa Shaw was the most important woman in his life and losing her in such a pointless accident broke his heart. He’d been only twenty years of age.

  If only she hadn’t jetted off to be with her friends, she would still be alive. Apparently, the jet ski rammed into the party of three, and all were assumed to have been killed instantly. They only recovered two bodies.

  Alyssa’s coffin only held a few of her treasured possessions and family photos. Her body was never found.

  His friends said he was never the same again.

  They were right. He felt the coldness set in. Never again would he allow himself to feel such pain.

  His father and brother ceased to be an important part of his life. They were just there. If he didn’t feel anything for them, it wouldn’t hurt if they were taken away from him.

  Instead, he threw all his focus and attentions on the family business, taking the already successful company to new heights.

  By the time his father died, he’d conditioned himself to such an extent, his death barely raised a flicker of emotion.

  He didn’t even want to attend the funeral, but as heartless as he was, there was no way his younger brother would stand at the graveside alone. So, he went, but no tears fell. He wouldn’t allow it.

  Now, there were only two members of the Shaw family left. His younger brother was more of a hindrance. Still, he saw more of him than he wanted, but looked forward to the day he could finally stand on his own two feet.

  Hopefully, they would position themselves on opposite sides of the Atlantic Ocean, with Zander happy to remain in the UK, while his brother preferred to be anywhere but.

  He picked up his phone and pressed the quick dial key.

  “Are you all set?”

  “Yes,” the person on the other end of the line replied. “I’m not far away now.”

  “And you have the invitation, and the other items?”

  “Of course, I’ve done this a thousand times before, Alexander.”

  “My name is Zander,” he barked. “How many times do you need to be reminded of that?”

  “Force of habit,” he replied.

  Zander exhaled loudly, not in the mood to deal with imbeciles.

  “So, are you prepared?”

  “Yes, I have the invitation, and everything else needed for your sordid games.”

  “Don’t start today.”

  “I don’t have to do your dirty work for you.”

  “No, that’s right, you don’t, but you chose to work for me, so do as you’re told.”

  “Maybe I’ve become tired of your silly games.”

  “Well, when your opinion matters, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  He hung up the phone, then threw it onto the sofa.

  Chapter Five

  I dragged myself out of bed, a gale force hangover in effect.

  Staggering past the mirror, I did a double take.

  “JESUS CHRIST,” I yelled, gaping at the horror staring back at me. “I look like a fucking raccoon.”

  And my hair – my appearance resembled that of a cross between Hagrid from Harry Potter and Tina Turner.

  I’d fallen into a Vodka coma and forgotten to remove my makeup, which was something I never did, and my hair had been lacquered into a stylish chignon.

  I looked over at the bed–the pillows were smeared with make-up, then I noticed the empty bottle of booze on my bedside cabinet.

  Looking away, disgusted with myself, I headed for the bathroom as the doorbell rang.

  “Oh, no,” I said, mortified I’d have to answer the door in this state.

  It was barely nine am and whoever was at my door required lessons in patience as they’d rung the bell three times more before I lost my own patience and shrieked, ‘I’M COMING.’ Wrapping a towel round my head and throwing my pink silk robe on, I charged down the stairs like a bull in a china shop. I didn’t have time to do anything about the raccoon look, so went with it.

  The bell rang again, making my already woozy, Vodka soaked brain rattle more than I liked.

  “I’M COMING, OKAY!”

  Pulling open the door, I was about to give the bell ringer a volley of abuse, but was thrown off kilter, as a sexy young guy with striking blue/grey eyes greeted me, with the most dazzling of smiles.

  I looked him up and down.

  What must he think of me?

  He was dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform; black cap, black trousers and matching jacket, white shirt and a black tie.

  “Good morning.” His eyes twinkled like sapphires. “Are you Camilla Childs?” he queried.

  His diction was perfect. I don’t know why I was so surprised, but his plummy accent didn’t match the way he looked. This guy looked like an Abercrombie & Fitch model but sounded like he was next in line for the throne.

  I was a touch tongue-tied, so nodded.

  “How are you today?”

  I cursed myself for allowing myself to be caught unawares.

  Today of all days – a gorgeous guy knocks on my door, and I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.

  “Erm,” was all I managed to splutter.

  He looked at me curiously.

  “Are you okay, Miss Childs?”

  “Cammie is fine,” I said.

  My mother named me Camilla, but I couldn’t stand it, not after Prince Charles dumped Princess Diana for that horse faced old trollop, Camilla Parker Bowles. Ever the Royalist, it simply wouldn’t do. Now, I’m just Cammie.

  “Oh, that wouldn’t be at all proper, Miss Childs,” he said.

  I’ll show you what’s proper, bright eyes. Get in here and let me sit on your face.

  I felt my face flush.

  Stop it, Cammie.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “Really, I don’t mind.”

  “I’ll stick to Miss Childs just the same.”

  Bugger me, this guy was so adorable; my fanny was biting my leg off.

  I wanted to drag him inside, strip him out of his uniform, well, apart from the sexy black cap he wore, bend over the sofa and let him fuck me for England. I wondered what his cock was like.

  “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “My apologies for disturbing you, but my name is Jensen,” he replied. “And I’ve been asked to hand deliver this letter.”

  “You could have posted it – I live alone.”

  “Oh, no, that wouldn’t do at all,” he said.

  His posh accent could have charmed the birds from the trees.

  I looked down, and in his hand, he held a glossy Scarlett red A4 sized envelope. There were a pair of golden lips embossed into the top right-hand corner of it.

  “Who’s it from?”

  “I’m not at liberty to disclose that information, but I’ve been asked to wait while you read, and if you’re agreeable, I’m to return at seven pm tonight to collect you.”

  Bloody cheek. Whoever sent the letter is a touch presumptuous.

  “Seven pm.” I wanted to make sure I heard correctly. I’d forgotten how terrible I looked and wonder
ed if he had to give me that long to make myself presentable. I had to admit, I was totally intrigued by this unexpected mystery unfolding before my very eyes.

  “You better step inside,” I said. “I’m not usually seen in public looking like this.”

  “As you wish, Miss Childs.”

  I turned and walked back into my hallway. He followed close behind and it was then I caught a waft of his aftershave.

  Sniffing the air, I breathed his scent in. “What aftershave are you wearing, Jensen?”

  “Jimmy Choo Blue,” he replied instantly.

  “It suits you,” I said, altering my walk ever so slightly. I was aiming for Jessica Rabbit sexiness but might have been a bit too stompy in my bunny ear slippers.

  “That is very kind of you to say, Miss Childs,” he said.

  “Can I offer you a cold drink?”

  Or a blowjob?

  “No, I am fine, but thank you for the kind offer,” he replied.

  “How old are you?” I blurted out, before I could stop myself.

  Jensen looked surprised by my forward question. “I’m twenty-two,” he replied.

  Old enough.

  “Are you going to give me that envelope, or what?”

  “Yes,” he said, handing it to me. “I’m sorry.”

  I took it from him, wary of its contents.

  Was I being served?

  Had Liam finally realised the grass wasn’t always greener on the other side of the fence?

  I’d string him up by his gonads if he was.

  Chapter Six

  I tore open the envelope.

  Inside was an invitation.

  Now, I’d been invited to a lot of events over the years, but never in this manner.

  The glossy red expensive looking card was embossed with fancy gold lettering. It was straight to the point.

  Miss Camilla Childs

  By Invitation Only

  TIME: 19:30PM

  LOCATION: SECRET

  “Who sent this?” I asked again.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Childs, but I was requested to keep that information strictly confidential.”

  “And whoever sent this…” I waved the invitation in front of his face. “… expects me to get into a car with a total stranger, to be whisked off to a secret location. You could be a serial killer for all I know.”

  “Yes, that would be correct, and no, I can assure you I’m not a serial killer.”

  “Well, forget it,” I said. I’m not bloody stupid. “What person in their right mind would agree to that?” I wasn’t going to tell him, but I was seriously tempted.

  “I can’t say for certain, Miss Childs, but you will be well looked after, of that you have my personal guarantee.”

  “What’s your role if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I’m just here to get you to your destination, safely.”

  “I’m sorry, Jensen, but it won’t be happening. Please go back to whoever you report to and tell them I am declining their kind invitation.”

  “As you wish, Miss Childs, but before I go, I have a package in the car for you, should you change your mind between now and then.”

  “I won’t change my mind,” I said, trying not to reveal my curiosity.

  “With respect, if I don’t pass it on to you, I’ll lose my job, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?” He smirked at me, all too aware of how utterly irresistible he was.

  Clever little shit.

  “No, I don’t want you to lose your job.” Who could resist him?

  “Most kind of you,” he replied, with a slight bow of his head. “If you would allow me a few minutes, I shall retrieve your package and be on my way.”

  Jensen walked back up the hallway and out of the house. His arse looked so good I wanted to bite it. He must have parked a little further up the road as I didn’t see a limousine when I opened the door and he was gone for a few minutes, just like he said he would be.

  He returned with a Scarlett red box, just bigger than a shirt box. I spied the golden embossed lips, just like on the envelope.

  “For you, Miss Childs,” he said, holding the box out.

  I took it from him. “Thank you,” I replied, my body tingling with excitement.

  Be careful.

  “And now, I must bid you adieu.”

  Bloody hell, this guy was straight out of a Rogers & Hammerstein musical. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d burst into song.

  “You’re going?”

  “I’m not permitted to see the contents,” he said, enigmatically.

  “Then close your eyes, I won’t tell anyone.”

  “If you accept the invitation, the contents will be revealed to me at the appropriate time.”

  “Go on,” I cajoled. “Have a peep with me, I dare you.”

  He laughed. “My employer expects total honesty, and I’m all too keen to meet his high standards.”

  “So, it’s a him, then?”

  Gotcha.

  It was his turn to flush now.

  “I apologise for speaking out of turn.”

  “Don’t be.” I felt guilty for tricking him. “I won’t put you on the spot any more than I already have.”

  He bowed his head.

  “I will return at seven pm this evening, should you change your mind.”

  “Okay, see you later,” I said. Stupid woman. Why the hell did you just say that?

  “It has been a pleasure, Miss Childs.” He carefully took hold of my hand, as though it were made of glass, bent his head and brushed his lips over the top of it.

  Take me now.

  Chapter Seven

  I placed the box on the kitchen table, and carefully lifted the lid.

  Black crepe paper hid the contents.

  I peeled it back and gasped.

  This dress would never be found in any of the stores I frequented. Couture at its finest.

  Lifting it carefully out of the box, I was astonished, as I held the most exquisite red dress I’d ever seen. It must have cost a fortune.

  I pulled the towel off my head, throwing it in the laundry basket, before rushing into the hallway to stand in front of the mirror—the dress pressed against me.

  “Yuk,” I groaned.

  This dazzling creation was meant to be adored, not modelled by somebody with ratty, unwashed hair and last night’s make-up.

  I could only imagine how amazing I’d feel when it adorned my slender body, but who had sent it?

  Rushing back into the kitchen, I was about to place the dress back in the box, when a smaller parcel within caught my eye.

  Camilla was embossed onto the box. Ugh! It’s Cammie.

  I began to feel a little uncomfortable, but my curiosity was piqued.

  Inside the box was a red Masquerade Ball Mask which matched the dress perfectly.

  I was suitably impressed by the sender, whoever he was.

  He had an immaculate sense of style, but slightly worrying was the fact he knew red was my favourite colour.

  I had in mind the perfect underwear and a pair of brand new killer heels – Valentino Ruby Red Rockstud Pumps and matching clutch. I couldn’t wait to try the outfit on.

  Rushing upstairs, I jumped into the shower and scrubbed myself clean.

  Chapter Eight

  It was 6:59pm.

  I stood behind the drapes in my bedroom and stared out of the window as Jensen approached and watched him adjust his hat, making sure it sat straight on his head.

  He rang the doorbell.

  It was dead on 7pm and I was prepared to dazzle.

  No way was he going to see me looking less than perfect.

  It had taken me the best part of six hours, but I looked flawless. Everything had been plucked, shaved and waxed.

  I looked a billion dollars and Jensen’s socks were going to be well and truly knocked off.

  My nipples hardened at the thought of his sexy voice. He was my perfect man. Then the thought hit me… I bet he bats for the other side.r />
  I groaned. I’d made all this extra effort just for him.

  If I was honest, I was more interested in Jensen than the guy playing silly beggars with fancy invites to mysterious locations.

  “I’m coming,” I shouted.

  I wish!

  I knew what I was doing – I’d planned it meticulously in my calculating mind.

  Rushing to the front door, I held my breath, counting down… Three, two, one.

  I pulled it open, clocking his expression; his eyes sweeping the entire length of my body. His cool facade dropped for a nanosecond, but I had him right where I wanted him.

  One quick glance at his crotch told me he wasn’t gay.

  “Good evening, Miss Childs,” he said, trying desperately to remain focused on my eyes.

  I almost felt sorry for him because my current choice of attire, or lack thereof, would have aroused any red-blooded male. Maintaining his composure must have been a struggle.

  I was stood in barely-there, red, silk crotchless panties and matching bra. Suspender straps hung loose. I’d roll my stockings on once I got him upstairs, entice him that little bit more. My Veronica Lake waves were elegantly sexy, and my make-up looked picture perfect, which was a far cry from my appearance this morning.

  “Good evening, Jensen,” I cooed. “I was having a bit of trouble zipping my dress up.”

  I left my words to hang in the air.

  He arched one of his perfect eyebrows. “Oh?”

  “Would you mind popping upstairs and giving me a hand?”

  He looked unsure. “It is a touch irregular, Miss Childs.”

  “It’ll stay between the two of us, and you know, the dress must have cost a small fortune, so I should give it the justice it deserves.”

  “Okay then, but we must hurry – my employer doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  “Then permit me to lead the way,” I said. “I walked gracefully up the winding staircase, feeling his eyes burning a hole into my perfect posterior.

  “See anything you like?” I asked.

  “You have a beautiful home,” he replied.