Deadly Obsession (14 page)

O
n the surface
Genevieve Peters was the embodiment of everything that was smart, hip, happening and bang on trend. Eruption was more successful than ever, her name was hotter than a mouthful of jalapenos, and her rise-to-the-top story was being given more column inches than ever before. So why the hell did she feel so goddamn miserable?

Shutting the door behind her as she left Eruption at the end of yet another money-making few hours, Genevieve reflected on her day. It had been business as usual. Record companies wanting styling for video shoots and press appearances – she'd already kitted out Rita Ora and Demi Lovato in the last week alone – offers of nights out and Eruption's PR begging Genevieve to permit more one-to-one interviews. It was the same old same old. As far as life within the four walls of the shop was concerned everything was decidedly rosy.

But once the lights were off and the door was locked up for the night, Genevieve's life felt as bitter and as icy as the Manchester winter's night she stepped out into as she took the key from the lock and slipped it into her pocket. Something was horribly missing from her life and she knew what it was ... love.

She'd loved before. Just the once. Not that she hadn't had her fair share of offers, or lustful infatuations for that matter. There was the six-month affair with the sculpted dancer with the most Herculean of ebony bodies from the TV dance troupe, the Olympic athlete who could win gold medals for his performances both on the track and in the sack, and the red-hot sheet-scorching sessions with the famous TV actor, but none of them had led to anything more than a string of break-ups, make-ups and then break-ups again.

No, only one man had really managed to get under her skin and make her realise what she wanted when it came to affairs of the heart and that was Riley. She had tasted the forbidden fruit and fallen for a married man. A man that had satisfied her for so long, but like all good things it had come to an end. The fruit had turned sour. And there hadn't been a day since when she hadn't thought about or been reminded of it. As she walked away from the shop in search of a taxi, Genevieve cast her mind back to her first meeting with Riley ...

I
t had been
at a press launch for a new brand of tequila. The brand was being endorsed by one of the models Genevieve used regularly to promote the clothes at Eruption. Normally she would give any kind of launch a wide berth as being seen at the wrong place could be translated as social suicide but she'd decided to go as, firstly, it was at her model friend's request and secondly, it was being held in the coolest of Manchester warehouse venues. With a nose for success, Genevieve had sensed that it would be a night to remember and definitely one worth being seen at. As ever, her razor-sharp instincts had been spot on.

She had noticed Riley as soon as she had walked in. He had his head tipped back and was having tequila poured into his mouth by a woman dressed as the sexiest of Carmen Mirandas, a riot of burlesque fabric and plastic fruit. His suit was fitted and seemed to cling to the obviously rather perfectly-honed body housed within it. His hair, thick and black, fell casually yet somehow perfectly into place around his face. She had the impression straight away that he was a man who could never look anything less than incredible. Or at least she'd thought so until he'd run his fingers through his hair and she'd spotted a wedding ring on the third finger of his left hand. Another one bites the dust. Not that it had stopped him smiling rather suggestively at Genevieve when he'd squeezed by her to reach the free bar a few minutes later.

‘Hello, are you one of the few women around here without a bowl of fruit or a pineapple on your head?' As opening gambits went it was certainly novel and caused a smile to flow across Genevieve's face. He was even more attractive close up than he had been from across the space of the warehouse.

‘I tend to find that pineapples don't make a good accessory unless they're in a deeply alcoholic cocktail, don't you?' she smirked.

‘I don't think I've ever worn one. I don't like to wear anything with a darker skin than me. It makes me look pasty. Unlike you, I don't really suit the pale and interesting look,' he answered.

His skin was flawless and definitely a deep shade of brown. It contrasted with the fresh whiteness of his movie-perfect teeth. ‘Somebody's been on their holidays I see. That tan didn't come from walking along the banks of a Manchester canal, did it?' There was a challenging air to Genevieve's voice. If the married man in front of her was flirting then she wouldn't make things too easy for him. Not yet anyway. ‘Maybe you and your wife have been somewhere exotic lately.' She stared down at the ring on his hand.

‘I love a few weeks in the sun, I'll give you that, but it's been a while so just between you and me, it's mostly fake. The tan, not the marriage that is. She's not here tonight. I'm here alone ... and you?' There was definitely more than a peppering of suggestion mixed in with the flirtation in his voice.

The game was on. He was flirting and she was sure of it. Within a matter of minutes they were downing tequila shots together. For the next hour they had talked about everything from Genevieve's store to Riley's line of work – he had made no attempt to hide the fact that he was involved in dodgy dealings. If anything he seemed proud of the fact. If a man said to a woman that he was involved in ‘this and that' and ‘made a good living' then it didn't take the sharpest of tools to work out that he was a little underhand in his profession. The only thing that wasn't mentioned again was his wife.

As Genevieve left the party an hour or so later, the taste of tequila still heating her lips, Riley Hart's telephone number was nestling invitingly on her mobile contacts list, as was hers on his.

As she climbed into her cab to head back to her apartment Genevieve couldn't stop thinking about Riley; handsome, mysterious, somewhat dangerous. So what if he had a wife and a career that might not be strictly kosher? She didn't care. He'd won her over at ‘pineapple'.

She knew she'd see him again as the cab pulled away. She was right. Within a week he was sharing her bed.

B
ut nothing was made
to last any more. Riley hadn't been the man she had hoped. Nothing had turned out to plan. That was then and this was now. Riley was gone. As she watched Eruption disappear out of sight through the taxi window Genevieve knew that there was something she needed to do. Something she didn't do often enough. Driving off into the late November night air she barked an address at the cab driver.

It was forty minutes before she arrived at her destination, an ivy-covered Edwardian block of flats on the outskirts of the city. She paid the driver and jogged to the front door of the flats as fast as her Ballin ankle boots would allow. It had started to rain and she didn't want to risk getting wet. She pressed the intercom for flat four and waited somewhat impatiently as she began to feel the rain becoming heavier on her hair. ‘Come on, answer the door ....'

A few moments later the intercom crackled into life. ‘Hello, who is it?' The voice was that of an elderly female.

‘It's me. I thought I'd better come round. Can I come in?' said Genevieve.

‘It's been a while hasn't it, but yes, of course, come on up now you're here.' The tone was clipped. ‘I'll buzz you up.'

Genevieve drew a deep breath. She hadn't expected anything less than a lukewarm reception. It was the same every time she could conjure up the courage to visit.

Having scaled the flights of stairs to the flat, she knocked on the door. A woman, aged in her sixties with pure silver hair tied back into a tight bun, appeared at the door. She would have looked like the typical classic cosy little grandmother had it not been for the derisory sneer painted across her face. ‘So you thought you could be bothered, eh? To what do I owe this pleasure, Genevieve?'

‘I needed to come, Mother, isn't that enough?'

There was obviously no love lost between the two women. Genevieve leant forward to kiss her mother on the cheek. A small gesture, but countermanded as the elderly woman turned away before contact could really be made.

Genevieve walked into the flat. The decor was dark and somewhat stuffy. An episode of
Coronation Street
played on the TV screen in the corner of the living room. Genevieve's mother parked herself back in front of the TV and carried on staring at the programme. She deliberately made as little eye contact with her daughter as possible.

‘She's in there if you want to see her, but she's asleep so don't wake her up. The help has only just left.' The remark was dismissive.

Genevieve took off her coat, still slightly damp from the rain outside, and threw it across the arm of a chair. ‘Thank you, I won't.'

Walking into the bedroom she stared down into the cot placed in the corner of the room. A small pink bundle of skin, eyes open, showed from underneath the whitest of blankets.

The sight immediately bought a smile to Genevieve's face and the faintest of tears to the corners of her eyes. ‘So, you're not asleep after all.'

Reaching down into the cot she wrapped the blanket tightly around the baby and lifted her into her arms. She kissed the baby on her forehead.

‘Hello there sweetheart, don't you worry. Mummy's here now ...'

T
ickets
for the opening night of The Kitty Kat Club were like gold dust. With a capacity of just over five hundred, the kitty-shaped embossed tickets were in hotter demand than any club outside London had known for years. Word of mouth had spread. Nobody knew what to expect from the music, nobody knew what it would look like inside, but everybody knew that they had to be there. If you weren't in possession of an invitation then indeed you were nobody.

For Amy it had been the day she had waited a lifetime for. This was her moment. The day when the neon-lit hopes of all of her dreams came to fruition. She knew the club would work, it had to ... and her team of ‘Party Pussycats' were going to make sure that nobody wanted for anything.

The ‘Pussycats' were Lily's idea. Riley had employed Lily as PR for the club and Amy loved her gung-ho nature. Nothing was unachievable. She was determined that people would remember the opening night of the Kitty Kat for years to come. Tonight had to go down in history as beyond elite. Nothing would be too much trouble for the privileged gathered.

‘Nobody will be without a beer, a cocktail or anything else that their hedonistic hearts desire all night,' snapped Lily at the twenty plus women stood before her on the unlit dance floor of the Kitty Kat. ‘In less than two hours this place will be heaving with more money and success than you can shake your fur-covered asses at and if I hear so much as a whisper of a complaint from any of them then you'll be out the door faster than you can say
kitty litter
.'

Lily was loving the power. Amy smiled proudly as she watched Lily in action from the comfort of a club booth. She'd been on her feet all day making sure nothing was left to chance but she knew she could leave the ‘Pussycats' to Lily. A five-minute sit down before the madness commenced was much needed.

Lily had hand-picked the girls who would be pussycats for the opening night. Weeks of castings had culminated with a troop of girls who were beautiful, buxom and beyond willing to make sure they bagged the chance to be part of nightlife history. They all towered above six feet in their killer heels, and their bodies were ripe, firm and shapely enough to fill every hair of the tight fur Kitty outfits Lily had sourced specially. The fur-bra/fur-shorts combo with kitty ears and whiskers accessories had been found and provided by Genevieve Peters. Lily was insistent that the current talk of the fashion world had to be the talent behind the feline look and Amy had to admit that Lily had played a blinder. The end result was sexy, sultry and powerful, whereas it could have easily strayed into slutty. Amy was resolute that everything about the evening would be class not brass.

‘We have more stars coming here tonight than you'd find in a fucking Planetarium. And not just from the UK. You will recognise some major players from Hollywood too. If any of the guests ask you anything that you don't know the answer to then you pretend you do and then find me. The crowd tonight will be expecting a fucking good time, a party atmosphere and a shitload of fun, whatever that entails. We're here to make sure that that happens. Or you'll have me and
her
to answer to.' Lily pointed over at Amy, indicating the ‘her' in her order. ‘Now, get yourselves ready and organised and do me proud, pussies ... or else.'

As the girls dispersed from the dance floor, Lily walked over to join Amy in the booth. ‘Dizzy bitches the lot of them, but they look amazing and they will do exactly what we need, boss, so don't you worry your pretty little head. Everything is under control.'

‘Everything?' questioned Amy. ‘Nothing can go wrong tonight. Riley's reputation is on the line here too. He's got such gravitas around here and this could be the first of a whole chain of Kitty Kat clubs if it's a success. Are you sure people will come? Oh, and drop the ‘boss' ... I hate that. This club may be mine but I can't do the hierarchy thing. It freaks me out.'

‘The guests here tonight will be so euphoric they're at the opening night of the best club in Britain that they'll be quivering like a shitting dog with excitement! And if they're not euphoric enough then I will be sure to give them a helping hand with all these babies.' Lily grabbed her breasts and hoiked them upwards. ‘There's enough stash in my bra to blast all of our guests into a fucking narcotic stratosphere if that's what they want.'

Graphic as ever
, mused Amy. After weeks of preparation for the opening of the club, Amy was finally becoming immune to Lily's filthy mouth and her talk of drugs. Amy had been against it at first. She and Laura had spent many happy nights out clubbing with nothing more mind-altering than bottles of fizz to sustain their joy, but Riley was adamant that Lily and her pharmacy were a necessary addition to the Kitty Kat experience. Doubtless he was right. He always was.

Her mind lingered on Riley for a moment. ‘Have you seen my husband? I thought he would be here by now making sure that everything is ready to go. How come he's not as nervous as I am?' asked Amy.

‘Because your husband knows that this place is in very safe hands ... namely mine,' stated Lily, holding up her palms and waggling her fingers. ‘He employed me for a reason, you know. And anyway, he'll be back in a bit, he told me he's gone off to get done up to the fucking nines. Hasn't he splashed out on some new Hugo Boss suit for tonight? Doubtless he'll look sharper than vampire fangs. Talking of which, shouldn't you be thinking about getting the war paint on and slipping into something a little more night-time? It's not long till this place will be a sea of silks, sequins, singers and soap stars and that dance floor will be more buzzing than a freaking hive. You can't afford to be seen in anything less than fucking perfection. What are you wearing?'

‘Laura's bringing the outfits here. The look for the night is her baby. She should be here any moment now ...' Amy checked her watch. Laura was coming to the club so that they could both get ready together. Both Riley and numerous fashion PRs had offered the girls professional hair and make-up and their own stylist for the night as the opening would doubtless court countless column inches across magazines, blogs and websites, but both of them were insistent that they dolled themselves up together. It's how they had always started girlie nights out. It felt right. And tonight, albeit super special, was to start the same way. For Amy it felt almost like a lucky talisman, auguring a night to remember.

‘Right on time, did somebody call?' It was Laura, marching into the club with bags of clothes draped over one arm and her car-size make-up bag clutched in her hand. ‘Are you ready for the night of your life, Amy Hart? I know I am. And a sneaky peek to get us in the mood is definitely in order.' She held aloft a huge bottle of champagne. ‘Three glasses, Lily, if you please.'

‘I'll grab you two. I'll leave you girls to it. I'm off to make this beautiful,' said Lily, circling her hand around her face. ‘I'll see you later ...' Lily started to walk off, before stopping, turning her head back towards Amy and adding ‘... boss!' She smirked and stuck her tongue out. ‘Tonight will be the most awesome fucking night ever, a real night to remember, I promise you.'

L
ily had been spot on
. It had been the most amazing night. The Kitty Kat club had caused a media splash like no other club of recent times. Top US DJ, Blair Lonergan, his career having ascended into the stratosphere on a worldwide scale since Laura had first ‘sampled his set' flew in specially to play the club, some of Hollywood's finest were in attendance and there wasn't a reality show either side of the Atlantic that didn't seem to have at least one of their stars strutting their way around the dance floor.

The evening had been a joyous blur for Amy. One minute she had been applying her make-up and giggling nervously with Laura, the next she had been schmoozing the who's who of the media world and the suited sycophants and yes-men who flitted around Riley basking in his every word.

It was all she had ever dreamt of and a warm glow of satisfaction and pride had spread through her as she watched those gathered enjoying her newly created world. As DJ Blair eased smoothly from one throbbing beat to another, she couldn't help but marvel to see Laura chatting to Hollywood actress Evie Merchant, both throwing their hands in the air in blissful high spirits as they danced, tabloid gossip queen Nush Silvers spinning alongside them, all lost to the beat. To their left, Aussie drag superstar Latreena Occupado – whom Lily had flown in from Sydney to perform at the opening night because she was ‘the best fucking drag superstar you will ever see' – held a cocktail in the air and closed her glitter-lashed eyes, loving the party vibe. Her cabaret earlier in the evening had been a huge success, even with the stuffier guests gathered. Amy had been surprised to see even Jemima Hearn crack a smile as Latreena took to the Kitty Kat stage and bitched about the world at large.

Amy wasn't quite sure that some of Riley's colleagues – men who would much rather be propping up the bar at the nearest backstreet boozer than rubbing shoulders with a man in a frock and the media world's up-and-comings – had totally appreciated the designer drag's act but they had all certainly perked up and appeared decidedly hot under their white starched suit collars when UK burlesque star Immodesty Blaize took to the floor. Tommy Hearn's eyes had been on stalks as he watched the temptress of tease slink across the club in a vision of feathers and fabulousness. As were Caitlyn Rich's. It was the first time Amy had met Lily's mum and she had found her beyond cool with a zest for life that she had obviously passed on to her daughter. Caitlyn had charged over to Amy like a heat-seeking missile in heels, gushing about the club opening and her joy that she could be a part of it. ‘Oh my goodness, dear girl, this is amazing, just what this dreary little city needs, a touch of London gloss. I'm adoring it. I had a lovely chat with Evie Merchant earlier, just a great actress, and that lady-man was just sensational. So cheeky. Lily's dad would have hated it. He's not one for enjoying himself. Thank you so much for making Lily part of all this, you've made a woman of her, darling. Now, must fly, I want to share some fashion tips with Immodesty and ask her if she'd pose for me. I'd love a mirrored bust of … well, her
bust
for my conservatoire!' Caitlyn had disappeared back across The Kitty Kat in search of the burlesque star, leaving Amy wondering if fashion tips from a woman wearing a frock with some of the most misplaced nude panelling Amy had ever seen would really be appreciated by the international showgirl. But it was clear that just like her daughter, Caitlyn was a woman who believed in what she said, although thankfully her language was far less blue.

Switching the main club lights off at the end of the opening night as Lily ushered the final club-goer out into the early morning light, Riley and a smiling Amy made their way to the Kitty Kat office. Once inside, Riley opened a fridge in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

‘I think it's time for us to celebrate, don't you?' whispered Riley, pulling his wife towards him. ‘You were amazing tonight, the perfect hostess, everybody loved it. I am so proud of you.'

Pulling Amy even closer he let his lips find hers, his kiss somehow urgent yet tender at the same time. Amy couldn't help but respond, his touch lighting her senses, a warm ripple of desire spreading through her body. A tear formed itself at the corner of her eye. It was one of happiness. She was proud of herself too, this evening had been a long time coming, the seed from which it had grown first planted years ago when she and Laura had first shared their love of music and the joy it could bring.

Tonight had been beyond joyful. Not one person had left the club unhappy and as the first critics and journalists began to file their reviews for the newspapers, magazines and websites, Riley placed the champagne and glasses to one side, momentarily forgotten, as he moved his hand down to one of his wife's breasts.

Riley gave it a gentle squeeze, his fingertips brushing against the hardening of Amy's nipple through the fabric of the LBD Laura had chosen for her for the night. With its crossover straps and plunging neckline, it oozed glamour and was just the style-savvy look that Amy had desired. It also revealed a fair amount of skin thanks to the cut out panel between Amy's breasts and small triangular cut outs on the hips.

Amy let out a gasp of desire as she allowed Riley's hand to travel inside the cut out panel across her chest and find her breast. His other hand travelled down her body, skimming across the elegant fabric that clung to Amy's curves in all the right places, and reached its destination just below the knee where the fabric ended.

Amy let her tongue explore further into Riley's mouth, loving the feel of her husband's evident desire, as his hand moved under the fabric of her dress and towards the heat that was now almost burning between her legs. It was only a matter of seconds before his fingers moved the lace of her panties to one side and entered into her, her wetness allowing for the easiest of access. She bit down on his lip as he did so.

Unable to control their need for each other to be joined in sexual nirvana, Riley withdrew his fingers, hitched up the bottom of Amy's dress and swept his arm across the office desk, a pile of papers flying to the floor as he did so. The area now clear, he lifted Amy onto the desk and lay her back against the table top. He pulled at her panties, yanking them off with one hand as he undid his suit trousers with the other. His erection sprang free from the confines of his clothes, proud and ready to reach its desired destination.

It wasn't long before it did so. As Riley slid his cock into his wife, the first review of The Kitty Kat went online. It was the first of many.

The reviews were excellent and those lucky enough to have been there that first night spread the word that The Kitty Kat was
the
club to be seen at.