Today, though, things had taken a weird twist with one of those moments you wished wasn’t happening.
Dare Club members had been invited to a large warehouse in Soho, in the arts and fashion district. It was all very exciting right up until I was sitting in a flimsy chair in front of a round mirror with a makeup artist going to town on my face.
This was humiliating. “What am I meant to be, exactly?”
Ted rolled his eyes in that condescending way I’d come to love. “Take a wild guess, Daisy.”
Wiggling my nose, I tried to lose the red bauble. “You’re lucky I don’t have a clown phobia.”
“Get over yourself. This is a charity event for sick children,” he said. “It’s about making them laugh.”
“They’ll laugh, all right.”
“It’s a theme. Your job is to walk down the runway like a model showing off your pretty dress and make those kids scream with delight.”
“This isn’t a dare, it’s a punishment.”
“Why so serious?” He pulled his mouth wider.
I glared at him. “You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”
“Correction, you’ll miss me.” Ted held out his hand for my phone, a twinkle of amusement lighting up his eyes.
“No need. Thank you, though.” In fact, if I saw anyone taking a photo of me, I’d take a running dive and land on top of them.
I stared at my ridiculous reflection in the mirror and muttered, “I’ve never done anything like this!”
Ted folded his arms across his chest. “That’s the point. We have you doing something completely out of the ordinary. Something you’d not normally do. It’ll be daring for you to walk out on that stage and have people staring at you.”
I’d always hated being the center of attention—even when I wasn’t dressed up like this.
“You’re on in fifteen minutes. The others are practicing their walk. Go join them.”
With my nose scrunched up I said, “It’s basically putting one foot in front of the other.”
“Daisy, it’s not as easy as it looks.”
“Were you a model once?” I spun round to get a better look at him.
He grinned at me. “There’s more to me than just my pretty face.”
“I totally agree, Ted.” I widened my eyes at him. “Even though I will never forgive you for this, you’ve changed my life. I’d never have done any of these daring things if it hadn’t been for you.”
“Oh, stop. You know I love the lot of you.” He ambled off.
At least I wasn’t the only one being humiliated within an inch of my life—the others were all dressed up like me.
After a few minutes, I was also provided with a large purple wig and clumpy clown shoes. The wig was itchy and the shoes were so large I was dangerously close to tripping.
Around ten very tall, very slim models wandered behind my seat. Watching them in the mirror’s reflection, I felt a pinch of betrayal.
Wait a minute…
They’d clearly had a more talented makeup artist because they all looked sexy as hell in their clown get-ups. I looked like the kind of clown you’d see in horror films. I’d end up scaring the children, for heaven’s sake.
But at least no one would recognize me.
The blue satin gown I’d been given to wear was elegant, though, and fit my curves perfectly, so there was that.
The student fashion designer showing off her new collection knew how to complement a figure. If I hadn’t looked like Joaquin Phoenix in The Joker, I might actually have been able to have some fun.
This was for charity after all, and focusing on that fact helped a bit. No one would see me anyway. We were tucked away in a warehouse in the middle of the day.
Slipping off the chair, I tried to walk elegantly and not stand out, but I wobbled instead. The others made it look easy. I looked like I had a stick up my bum.
And I needed to pee.
Halfway down a long hallway, I peeked behind a thick curtain.
The auditorium was filled with guests who were finding their seats. The stage led to a long runway—the one I’d be stumbling down.
These dares were meant to challenge us, but this one was torture—I’d be putting myself out there and making myself vulnerable in the worst kind of way.
I inhaled sharply.
Oh, no.
Morgan Hawtry sat in the front row, surrounded by women I assumed were her girlfriends. They looked as pristine and pretty as was humanly possible, all dressed in designer jeans, flowing shirts and a copious amount of jewelry, with bags that cost a fortune, no doubt.
My eyes locked with hers.
I pulled back and let the curtain fall closed as I hid behind it. There was no way I could go out there and parade in front of her looking like this. The evening had just gotten considerably worse.
There was still time to make a run for it.
I let out a protracted moan; there was no choice but to go through with it for the sake of those poor children, at least. The thought of seeing their faces brighten gave me courage.
This isn’t about you. Do the right thing and put on a smile. Make it look like you want to be here.
With my pep talk over and with big, clumsy feet, I wobbled into the loo.
I looked in the closest mirror and reassured myself. Even I didn’t recognize me in this curly wig, red painted mouth, dark eye shadow and red bauble nose. I looked like a freak in a nightmare.
I’d be haunting my own dreams.
Scurrying out, I headed back to the waiting area.
“Daisy Whitby?” It was a familiar voice.
She was right behind me. I felt her glare scorching my back.
“I thought that was you,” said Morgan, her tone mocking.
I didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to talk with her. And I really didn’t want to see her smug face taking pleasure in my humiliation.
This was her world of high-fashion and glamour, with beautiful people and their posh dresses and overly priced handbags. I’d stepped into hell and she was the Queen of Flames.
Morgan caught up with me. “Are you in this?”
I turned to face her. “This is a charity event.”
She looked aghast. “You can’t go out there looking like…”
“I’m part of a club that’s helping out today,” I said in my defense.
She looked me up and down. “Whose idea was it to include you?”
How Nick could find Morgan more appealing than me was a mystery. Yes, she was pretty, but she wasn’t kind…or thoughtful…or even someone you could trust. It didn’t make sense.
She stepped closer. “Are you going to apologize?”
“For what?”
“You crashed our engagement party.”
Her words stung, but I didn’t let it show. “I had no idea it was that kind of party.”
“Nice little stunt you pulled in the pool.”
“So nice of you to notice,” I said sarcastically. And then I sighed. “Nick is all yours now.”
“That’s right. He dumped your sorry ass.”
“Because he was cheating on me with you.” I glared at her. “I’m no threat, Morgan.”
“Really? I’m beginning to think you are. First, you stalked us at…what was that place called?”
“Isobel’s Bar?”
“Glad you admit it,” she snapped. “Then you turn up at his home at a private event. Now you’re here.”
I inhaled sharply. “You should believe me when I say I’ve moved on.”
“Well, I don’t. And this disguise doesn’t fool anyone.”
“I’m a Dare Club member. Doing this, being here, is all part of a challenge—not to mention it’s for charity.”
She studied me with narrowed eyes.
“Please don’t hurt him, Morgan,” I said softly. “Nick has a brilliant future ahead of him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know he got into Manchester United. I’m happy for
him.”
“He got in despite you.”
I stared past her shoulder. “I have to go.”
“Back to your boring life.”
“Actually, I’ve met someone special,” I said. “We’re out together virtually every night.”
“Is he here?”
“No. I didn’t even know I was going to be here until an hour ago. I certainly didn’t know you would be here.”
Max wanted to be the one to tell Nick about us. Respecting that decision, I bit my tongue.
She shook her head. “You were so desperate to become interesting that you joined a club.”
“Funny thing is, Morgan, I have you to thank for it.”
“How?”
I rested my hands on my hips. “The invitation to the Dare Club is why I’m here. It’s been life changing. I’ve been having all sorts of adventures, all for free.”
“What Dare Club?”
“I’m just saying thank you.”
“What are you talking about?”
I rolled my eyes, certain that she knew exactly what I meant.
“The invite inside the gold envelope.”
She looked puzzled. “The one that dropped out of my bag at Isobel’s?”
“Yes, the one I found and returned to you.” My smile resembled a cringe.
Morgan looked thoughtful. “The only thing I received in a gold envelope was an invite to the opening of Bar Ibiza in Soho.”
“No,” I said. “It was for the Dare Club.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, sounding exasperated. “I would have torn that up. I don’t need to belong to some infantile club to be interesting.”
I swallowed hard.
Max had handed that envelope back to me.
It didn’t make any sense.
I thought back to my first time at the Waldorf, where I’d tried to hand Ted the invite as proof I had signed up. He’d looked back at me with confusion because all the members had signed up online.
Yet the invitation had fit inside the envelope.
Ted called to me. “We’re ready to go, Daisy!”
I stared at Morgan’s retreating back. She was already wandering off in her elegant heels with her phone in hand—ready to film the show.
What reason would Max have had to give me that invite? The truth caused me to wobble sideways and hit my back against the wall.
“Steady,” said Ted. “It’s only a fashion show.”
I snapped my phone to my ear. “Daisy?”
Whenever I heard her voice, a sense of wellbeing saturated my body and a rush of blood went to my head. I’d be seeing her soon.
I stepped back from the lift and stood in the hall, not wanting the call to drop.
“Max,” she said. Her voice was shaky.
“Is everything all right?”
“I need to ask you something…”
“Where are you?”
“Soho. I’m with the Dare Club. It’s my second to last challenge. We’re doing a charity fashion event.”
“Sounds safe enough.” This time.
I’d be happy when the last one was over and this debacle was behind her.
“I need to see you.”
“Can you join me for dinner at the Waldorf?”
“Yes.”
“Wear something pretty.”
“I’m having a problem getting my makeup off. It’s waterproof.”
“We’ll get a private table. Or we can eat in my room. See how you feel when you get here. I bet you look beautiful.”
“I look ridiculous.”
“Don’t change a thing. Come as you are.”
“It’s not what you think…” Her voice wavered in and out and the phone lost its connection.
“Still there?” I walked over to the window. The bright moon bathed the clouds in silvery light. London wasn’t such a bad city after all.
“Max, I have something to ask you.”
“Want to tell me what it is?”
The line went dead.
I punched her number, but it went straight to voicemail.
Riding the lift down, I tucked my phone into my jacket pocket, relieved she’d soon be with me again. I’d never missed anyone like I missed Daisy—and I never before had made so much effort to spend time with a woman. She was the breath of fresh air I hadn’t known I needed. I was ready for a deeper level of commitment.
First though, I needed to face the tricky issue of Daisy being my brother’s ex-girlfriend. His loss was certainly my gain. However, healing the rift he had with Daisy was going to take some fenagling with my family.
Which was why I’d invited Mum to join me and Daisy for dinner.
There was Gillian, as punctual as always, dressed elegantly in a cream pant suit, waving enthusiastically at me from the foyer. As she approached, I was enveloped in a cloud of expensive perfume. Her big beautiful smile drew attention from everyone in the vicinity.
I greeted her with a smile. “Thank you for being here, Mum.”
“Of course, darling.” She kissed me on both cheeks. “I wish you would stay with me at home.”
“I know. Next time, perhaps.” Because Daisy would be with me and she and Mum would have time to get to know each other.
“You look wonderful, Max. What have you been doing?”
“I’ve been doing things that make me happy.”
“That pleases me a great deal.” She slid her arm through mine. “Have you heard from your brother?”
“I get a text now and then.” He seemed to be in a good place. So many great opportunities were happening for Nick and he deserved it all.
Mum tugged my arm. “You’re about to get a lot happier.”
“I am?”
“Oh, yes.”
I frowned at her. “What are you up to?”
“I know what’s best for my son.”
“Which son?” I smirked. “Your favorite?”
“You both are…you know that.”
I loved teasing her. The years had softened hurt feelings that could have torn us apart. I may have been my father’s son, but I’d inherited her forgiving nature.
We arrived at the hotel’s restaurant. Having stayed here on numerous occasions, I knew the staff well. Being surrounded by familiar friendly faces was a perk.
I greeted the concierge warmly. “Hey, Jacob, how are you? I’m sure you remember my mother. Could we have a private table, please, if possible?”
“Yes, sir,” he said respectfully. “How are you, ma’am?”
They shook hands, greeting each other like old friends.
“I’ve already booked the table,” said Gillian.
The Homage Restaurant was designed to resemble a cozy and unpretentious café. Still, the place was as grand as you’d expect from the Waldorf.
I leaned toward Mum. “I’ve invited a friend to join us for dinner. She’s on her way.”
She fixed a curious gaze on me. “Who?”
“Someone special.”
“Not a colleague, then?”
“No, not in London, Mum.”
“I thought perhaps you had a friend visiting London.”
“It’s a woman.”
She hesitated. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“I went to all this trouble to pull off the impossible and you try to sabotage it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That’s fine,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “A little jealousy might inspire Cresilla to say yes when you invite her out.”
“Who the hell is Cresilla?”
“Have you ever heard of the Turnip Toffs?”
“Um…no.” What the fuck.
“Thank goodness you have me, Max.” She patted my arm. “The future Queen of England just so happens to be the Queen Bee of a prestigious and very elite group of people.”
“Turnip Toffs?”
“Yes.”
“Princess Camill
a?”
“No, silly, Kate Middleton.”
“She’s Kate Windsor now. And Prince Charles is next in line, as king, right?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Why? Can we still be beheaded for saying these things?”
“Stop it. I can’t take you anywhere.” She lowered her voice. “The Turnip Toffs are so called because of their collective ownership of most of the English countryside. These wealthy people are Earls, Countesses, Duchesses—”
“We’re wealthy, too.” Not that I cared because I earned a stellar salary.
“We’re talking about prestige. About integrating with the Royal Family. We’re talking hunting parties on the weekends and dinners with the elite. Fine dining at Buckingham Palace. The goal is to match you with someone who is in the top tier of the Turnip Collective.”
Running my fingers through my hair in frustration, I wondered if now was a good time to tell her I’d never be a willing participant in anyone’s vegetable clan. Deep down she knew I’d rather be surfing, or eating a casual meal in a small café with sand between my toes. Or watching the sun set after a day on the beach…with Daisy. I wanted to share all of those experiences with her.
“Cresilla will elevate you to the highest echelons.”
“Maybe I can meet her during my next visit?”
“I’ve invited Cresilla Cranbury and her wonderful parents to dinner. We’ll have a lovely evening and get to know each other.”
“You’re going to have to uninvite them.”
“They’re sitting over there—”
My gaze shot to a table nearby where an attractive middle-aged couple sat with their pretty blonde daughter. They gave us a friendly wave, smiling, and then swapped a look of approval with Cresilla. Clearly, I’d received passing marks in the “looks” department. A bunch of baby turnips was already on the agenda.
I glanced at the emergency exit.
But I knew it was too late for an escape.
I returned their wave, muttering with clenched teeth, “You need to warn me.”
“We’re not going into battle, Maximus. This is social mingling of the highest order.”
I plastered on a fake smile. “You have to let me live my life.”
“Your life is all about work. You need other interests.”
Maximum Dare Page 15
