LAD: A British Bad Boy Romance Novel (Bad Boys of London Book 1) (15 page)

“If everyone would please be seated,” the concierge of the room announced, in coat and tails. We had already been handed flutes of champagne from the roaming refreshment trays, served by white gloved caterers, naturally. There were also delectable hors d’oeuvres.

The two long, rectangular tables in the center of the room probably sat about seventy-five people each. They were hands down the largest tables I’d ever laid eyes on. When we sat down, I was relieved to notice that pretty much everyone else here seemed to be strangers, unknowing of who was sitting on either side of them. From what I was told, the Arts Council wasn’t very big itself, so these must have been all distinguished guests or perhaps donors.
 

As all the seats filled up, the three of us were already so giddy from the champagne, our fancy dresses, and the atmosphere. We sat in a row of three, holding each other’s clammy hands in sheer excitement and disbelief that we’d found ourselves here.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention,” a man in coat tails begun his speech. The seat beside me, missing its name card, remained empty. The immaculately dressed man stood from the table and clinked his knife to his water glass. The room fell silent save the odd, polite cough or chair skin. “On behalf of the Arts Council, I’d like to personally welcome you all here; those who are members, as well as those who are emerging artists, guests, and patrons. It’s a diverse group here tonight, and our main goal is to celebrate all the arts in their rich variety, and how the Council has managed to contribute to the lives and works of some of the most cutting-edge artists in Great Britain.”

With that, there was an applause in which us girls joined in. I looked to my left to check the empty seat from the corner of my eye. Still empty.

“Now, if you’ll please enjoy the fine meal you're about to be served, prepared by Jaques Tourot, one of the finest chefs here at the Chateau Le Grande, London. During dessert service, we’re going to be regaled with some live performances by the greatest established and upcoming musicians, singers, actors, poets, and dancers. This will take place in the adjacent salon, and will continue onto the rooftop garden.” Then he raised his champagne glass. “So, here’s a fond toast to the Arts of Great Britain, and the future success of the Arts Council.”

“Cheers!” the crowd proclaimed, and all began to clink glasses.
 

“Eloquent.” A deep voice entered my ear.

“Jesus, of course,” I said. So him to make this kind of entrance.
 

“Enjoying yourself, ladies?” he asked.

“You are a fucking doll,” Kristen said. “Thank you for inviting us.”

Felix looked at my two friends while I looked at him. He’d left me speechless from his new appearance.

“I suppose I should properly introduce myself. I’m Felix Cartwright.” And with that Felix got up from the table and moved directly behind and above Ako and Kristen. He warmly shook their hands. “Hayley, would you mind scooting down one?”

“What?”

“I’d like to get acquainted with your beautiful friends if you don’t mind. Have a little girl talk.” All three had the same ‘C’mon, Hayley, quit being so uptight’ look on their faces.

“Ah, sure?” I moved over one, then Ako moved into my seat, and Felix placed himself directly between them.

“Perfect. So, girls, I’ve managed to spend a small but…” He glanced at me briefly. “…Potent amount of time with your friend Hayley. Now I’d like to know some more about her best girlfriends.”

This newfound gentlemanly charm seemed to effect them. What did he think he was playing at? If only Ako and Kristen knew what he was like and maybe they wouldn’t be so mesmerized. He was completely playing a part to win them over and it worked. He looked like that clean-cut man in the cologne commercial, the one deeply reciting Shakespeare, the one I wasn’t sure I preferred to the bad boy.

As he dismantled my friends, all I could do was sit in silence and eat my meal. The sight of Felix gaining control over my friends meant I couldn’t focus on the taste properly. I managed to pick at bites of the salad with beets and hazelnuts and the duck a l’orange. But mostly I listened to the three of them laughing and talking about our times in high school and college, our plans for our trip, and our hopes for the future, I felt completely and utterly exposed to Felix in a way that I didn't want to be and my best friends were perpetuating it.
 

Felix was also surreptitiously playing my friends with wine. Even Ako was drinking a hearty amount, shrilly giggling and exposing her wide, perfect-toothed grin— An openness out of character for her. It was unsettling his effect on women, such that right before the dessert course was to be served in the salon I had to excuse myself to the bathroom.
 

Considering we were at the Chateau, there can’t be any reason to describe the opulence of the restroom aside from the fact that it was dripping in gold and marble and there were three bathroom attendants. That being said, my moment of privacy was ruined by my two well-meaning friends who had followed me there despite my want to be alone. Or maybe I’d misjudge the situation and they too were as confused as me.

“He’s so funny,” Ako said, applying lipstick in the mirror excitedly.
 
“You lucked out girl. Don’t let go of that one.”

“He’s like fucking Brad Pitt,” Kristen said, applying lipstick in much the same fashion but in a shade ten times darker.

“You guys don’t find it a little bit weird?” Surely some sort of alarm had been going off in either’s head.

“Weird how, babe? The guy got us tickets to this amazing event, wants to meet your friends, loves knowing new things about you, took you out to dinner; Why the hell do you think that’s weird?” Kristen asked. “He wants to bone you and is doing it in quite a classy way if I do say so myself.”

“How’d you know about the date?”

“C’mon, really? Your mom’s friend?”

“She’s right, Hayley. Why do have this attitude about him when he’s obsessed with you?”

“You too Ako? Can’t you see he has you two totally brainwashed?”
 

“I think you should go up to that guy’s room right now. I’ll stand sentinel outside the door,” Kristen added, now reapplying her eyeliner.

“I can’t stand this anymore. You guys haven’t had to suffer through what I have with him!”

“Hey!” Kirsten looked pissed off. “Suffer through what exactly? You like him, don’t you?”

I shook my head, grabbed my clutch and stormed into the hallway determined to end this nonsense with Felix once and for all. He was sick in the head, manipulative, frustrating, ignorant, mysterious, brooding, endearing, sexy — Fuck, he was sexy — but a guy had never made me feel this out of control of myself.

“Going somewhere?” Felix asked.
 

“Fuck you!” I shouted loudly at him.

“Don’t make a scene.” He stayed cool despite my dramatic and, perhaps, unexpected outburst.

“Babe, keep quiet. Come in here. I’d like to show you something.” He gently took my hand in his. “Steady now,” he advised. He opened a door beside him and presented me inside by the small of my back. I let him lead me, too. I actually let him!

Pushing open the door to the salon, Felix continued to hold my hand in his. Inside, the room was hushed, as guests listened to a harp expertly being played by some young dude with a Dali mustache and suspenders. The whimsical sound added a touch of wonder and magic to the room. Instantly, my anger was cooled by the sweet melodies drifting through the atmosphere. I rested my own hand to the nook of his elbow as Felix brought me to the back of the audience where we could stand and enjoy. No more words were spoken.
 

He then placed the palm of his hand on my back and began to gently knead his fingers. His hand moved up to my shoulder where he also gently massaged my muscles. I began to relax fully into his touch. The desired effect that he hoped to create was working. I was warming to him; Giving my body over to the gentle rhythm of his hand. I’d grown aroused but tried to banish any sensual thoughts that came to mind. I had to keep my wits about me.
 

Once the harp had concluded, the next act took its place.

I smiled up politely to Felix who twitched his brows to me then gestured back to the performance area. A man walked on. I choked. My favorite actor from the Royal Shakespeare Company— Robert Hammersmith, someone that I’d studied in school so extensively I felt like I knew him. I’d read everything that had been written or filmed to know about his technique and training. I envied him. Known for having the most eloquent voice and mannerisms in the British theater, there he was, standing right before my very eyes. I tugged at Felix’s sleeve then wrapped my arm around him in search of comfort from anyone willing to offer it. If only mom could be here with me right now to appreciate this.

“You know him?”

I dipped my head into Felix’s shoulder for dramatic emphasis then back up again. “Felix, this guy…This guy is a living God in theater circles.” I backed slightly away to stare my male escort up and down, realizing who I’d said that too. Two living Gods together in one opulent room; I again contemplated the possibility that this all might be a simulation.

“Good evening all,” Robert spoke. “Seeing as the theater is too dark this evening, it’s my great honor to spend my night off with you lovely people. My name is Robert Hammersmith and I’ve proudly been performing on stages for over twenty-five years now.”

I looked over to Felix, agog. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Dressed in a fine pair of slacks and crisp white shirt, the actor stood before the small audience with extreme grace and composure. A man of sixty-eight, his unbelievable good looks and salt and pepper hair were not only the admiration of women, but even men could agree this was a person of sophistication to be envied.
 

“My time here is shall be short so I’ll save you any long recitations. I’ve chosen my favorite sonnet for this evening. Number fifty-seven is about the slavery of love; How it takes over the body, the mind, and heart. I found it fitting in this…Summer heat of Londontown.” He smiled. The audience laughed. “Please enjoy, and for your own sakes, ignore the delivery. It comes from a tongue unworthy of such genius.”

The room fell silent with expectation. Felix’s hand had moved back down to my waist, gently and tugged me in tighter.

“Being your slave, what should I do but tend

Upon the hours and times of your desire?

I have no precious time at all to spend,

Nor services to do, till you require.

Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour

Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you.

Nor think the bitterness of absence sour

When you have bid your servant once adieu;

Nor dare I question with my jealous thought

Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,

But like a sad slave, stay and think of nought,

Save, where you are how happy you make those.

So true a fool is love that in your will

Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.”

At the conclusion of the sonnet, the audiences sounded an uproarious applause and Robert gave a small bow. I clapped my hands wildly with my snaggle-toothed grin. It was perfect; every word of it. I felt an impulsion to return to whatever stage might accept me. I longed to get back out there, to perform again.

Felix leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Being one’s slave,” he said. “Intriguing, isn’t it?” I turned to him. “I’ll make you mine, Hayley. Whatever it’ll take.”

I couldn’t quit this. I couldn’t let him go, not now and maybe no ever.

“I was thinking the same thing about you.”

— 18 —
 

Something was amiss. I didn’t know where to turn. Here in my ridiculous costume, trying to play the part of a ‘good guy’ so as to woo not only Hayley but her incorrigible friends. This seemed like the ultimate power play at the time but something quite dreadful took place and I didn’t know how to stop it.

I had played the part too well, a part of me beginning to like it. It vexed me to no end— The way I liked standing there beside Hayley, watching her fill with light as the music played and the actor recited his lines. I followed behind her as she led us through the various pieces of artwork in the place; The way she looked as she was rapt in concentration and enthusiasm for all this. I couldn’t give less of a shit about this kind of bullshit, but it delighted me how culture effected her whole being. I needed the end these soppy feelings.

Naturally, I manipulated the whole thing. Hayley’s earlier suggestion that I may trap her in a broom cupboard came to mind. Time to put an end to this game and get the deed done. I’d be quite done with her once I got her back to my suite, I thought…I hoped. Then I could return to my usual habits, apparel, sanity. Yes, the woman drove me crazy, but I reasoned that it was only from the physical longing. Once we’d extinguished that, all would be normal.

After traipsing through the final room of paintings, I decided that I felt the right time to get the relief that I so desperately needed. After which, I could send her on her way and return to my room for a stiff drink.