Midnight Girls (57 page)

The answer was apparent from the first moment they came into the house: just like Colette’s, Oscar’s was built around luxury and comfort. The whole place felt like a home rather than a commercial space. The walls were papered and covered in proper paintings, mostly twentieth-century, from great abstract oils to quirky modern prints. Sculpture and
ornaments
were displayed everywhere, along with the vast amounts of flowers that were a feature of Colette’s, too. Sofas, chairs and banquettes were luxuriously and expensively upholstered, and piled with soft cushions.

But where Colette’s style was graceful English country house, Oscar’s felt like something altogether more modern. Its design, colour choice and decor were all more contemporary, as though these premises belonged to a fashionable, rich art collector with an eye for interior design. The first floor contained the restaurants – there were two, one informal and the other more grand – the luxurious rest rooms, and the bar and sitting rooms, where members could relax with their guests and enjoy some excellent cocktails or fine wines. Colette’s specialised in French wines – classic Bordeaux was a particular favourite among the members – but here the wine list was more varied and suited to people who’d grown up happily quaffing Californian, Australian and New Zealand wines, and had no problems with a decent Chilean Merlot.

On the next floor was the private screening room, and a function room that could be used for private dinners, cocktail parties, or even (though no one dared admit it to David) business meetings. On this floor too were the library and study area, expanded from the original plans as Allegra realised how many writers and journalists were going to be on the membership list. All of those people would appreciate a quiet place to work. On the floor above was the restaurant with the retractable roof that became a dance floor at midnight. The plans had been adjusted to include a terrace area that would become the smokers’ refuge when the weather was too bad to open the roof.

On the ground floor was the reception area, cloakroom and club offices, and storage area. In the basement were the gym and eight luxurious bedroom suites for members who
were
up in town for the evening, or for those who found themselves a little too tired to make it home. They could only be booked for the entire night; Allegra had wanted to make them available in two-hour chunks so that women members could have somewhere nice and private to get ready for their night out, but Adam had pointed out the potential for abuse.

‘We don’t want people bringing prostitutes here – or treating the place like a knocking shop. That’s a reputation we
don’t
need. Decent rooms at a high enough price will discourage it, I think.’

Allegra could see he was right.

Tonight, all their hard work had finally paid off. The club was finished and it looked amazing. The place was thronged with new members. Allegra and Adam had picked carefully: there were some celebrity faces in the crowd, but also a lot of influential people who weren’t as famous as the stars but well-known in their fields: musicians, writers, scientists, producers, architects, designers … Above all, the crowd felt youthful and vibrant. The dress code was so relaxed as to be non-existent, but tonight everyone had made an effort: boys in sharp, sixties-style suits mingled with girls in gorgeous party dresses with killer make-up and shoes.

Allegra herself had made a special effort with a petrol-blue asymmetric mini-dress by Preen. A wide strap came over one shoulder to join the bodice, which was pleated in a bandage effect, while the thigh-skimming skirt was layered, with a bubble skirt over a body-contour underskirt. She teamed this with Stella McCartney high sandals in a nude mesh and the look showcased her magnificent legs. A row of chunky golden bracelets ornamented one arm almost to the elbow, and a gold slave collar was wrapped round her neck. She looked different now that she’d had her long blonde hair cut down to a choppy bob that ended
just
below her chin: she had done it soon after Xander’s death and it seemed to symbolise the fact that she had grown up.

‘You look amazing,’ Adam murmured as he brought her a glass of champagne.

‘Thank you. You look pretty good yourself,’ she said with a smile, admiring the handmade suit by Armani and Paul Smith shirt. He looked handsome tonight, she thought.
I’ve never noticed how long his eyelashes are
… She glanced at her glass. ‘I mustn’t drink too much of this. I need to stay on the ball. We’ve got so many journalists here covering the party and I need to sweet talk all of them.’

‘You’re already doing a magnificent job. I saw you bowling over that hairy little man from
The Times
.’

‘He was raving about the canapés. Said they were the best he’d ever had.’

‘I should think so – we never settle for less.’

They smiled at each other. They’d agonised over every detail of this night and had worked tirelessly together to get it completely right.

‘Of course, you know that this is just the beginning, don’t you?’ Allegra said, making a face. ‘We’ve proved we can do it best – and now we’ve got to keep doing it. Our standards have to be this high
every night
. That’s what we already do at Colette’s, and that’s what we have to do here. I can tell you, it’s very hard work.’

‘I’m up for it,’ Adam said, raising his eyebrows. Then he caught sight of someone coming in and said, ‘See you later. Got to go and be nice to someone important.’

Allegra watched him go. The two of them had grown very close over the last few months. They’d always worked well together – she appreciated his calm approach and habit of doing immediately what he’d said he would do – but the trauma of Xander’s death had brought them closer. She felt
that
now they really were friends. She’d always respected his professional abilities and the way he understood the world of clubs; now she found she was looking forward to seeing him every day, and that often their late nights meant they would have dinner together, chatting over their meal and a glass of wine. They never referred to their previous encounter in her flat, and it should have been long forgotten, but lately she’d begun to find that it played through her mind more and more.

She shook the memory away. She had achieved her aims and Adam had helped her. Now they ought to part ways, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to think about it.

There’s the new project anyway
, she told herself firmly.
I’ll need his help for that. I don’t want to do Astor House on my own
. Astor House was her next venture. She had secured a Palladian-style property in Hampshire and her plan was to transform it into a luxurious hotel and spa, the perfect retreat for members craving some country quiet.

‘Allegra, Allegra!’ David was pushing his way through the crowd towards her. He was perfectly turned out as usual in a loud double-breasted pinstripe suit in dark blue with big lapels. With his bright red tie and red silk handkerchief, he was obviously channelling the eighties in some way.

‘David!’ Allegra kissed him as he drew level with her. ‘Are you having a good time? Do you like the club?’’

‘Taste this!’ he said furiously and handed her his cocktail glass.

She sipped it. It tasted like a perfectly fine gin Martini to her – Tanqueray gin, she suspected. ‘What’s wrong with it?’

‘What’s wrong? It tastes bloody filthy, that’s what!’ David looked angry, his cheeks high with colour. ‘That’s what happens when you don’t have Sinbad here. Call that a vodka Martini? I don’t think so! You must sack the barman at once.’

‘It’s gin, isn’t it?’ asked Allegra, frowning.

‘Is it?’ David looked confused. ‘No … no … it’s vodka.’

Allegra sipped again. ‘Definitely gin. He’s made a mistake. I’ll get you another one.’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ her uncle said sulkily. ‘I can’t be bothered now. I’ll have a glass of champagne, I suppose.’

Allegra beckoned over a waitress, put the rejected Martini on her tray and took a glass of Krug for David.

‘How do you like the club?’

He glanced about. ‘You’ve made it look very nice – but it’s so bloody big! It’s not like Colette’s, where you feel like you’re at a wonderful and very exclusive party.’

‘No – but this isn’t Colette’s. Nothing else ever could be,’ Allegra said reasonably. ‘We’re attracting a different crowd.’

‘I’ll say.’ David looked about, a little snootily. ‘I don’t recognise anyone in here at all, and that is quite unusual for me.’

‘No one?’ Allegra said surprised. Among the crowd were quite a few society figures whose parents had surely known David in his time, and who must have visited Colette’s.

‘No. Except …’ he scrunched up his face in distaste ‘… some
celebrities
. I don’t like it, Allegra, I really don’t. And photographers outside! And journalists in here! I’ve seen them, poking around nosily with their horrid little pads, taking notes. I don’t like it at all.’

‘We’ve been through this before. You know that this is the way the world works now …’

‘Doesn’t mean I have to damn’ well like it!’ David said, and marched off, leaving Allegra sighing behind him.

The party was a great success. Dozens of bottles of champagne were drunk along with hundreds of cocktails, delicious canapés were hoovered up, and the dance floor throbbed with people; although it was a cool autumn evening the roof
was
open so that they were dancing under the stars. It was closed at one a.m., in accordance with the noise restrictions placed on them, but the party went on.

At four o’clock, Allegra saw that only stragglers were left. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror as she passed. Her eyes were still smoky and well defined, her cheeks sparkled with glittery pale blusher, and her lips were dark pink now that her red lipstick had faded a little.
I don’t look that bad, considering
, she told herself.
What a night!

Adam was in the main bar, helping one of the staff clear up. ‘There you are,’ he said with a smile when he saw her come in. ‘I wondered if you’d gone.’

‘Just about to. Nasser says he’s going to lock up for us.’ Nasser was the club’s manager, lured away from the Groucho to join their team. Allegra and Adam had gone on a manhunt, pinpointing the best staff at the very best places in town, and then luring them to Oscar’s. Very few people had been able to resist them, and their team was already highly effective and brilliantly professional. She sighed. ‘I could do with going home.’

‘Me too. Let’s go together. We’ll have to take a taxi, I can’t drive for another few hours. I can drop you off on my way.’

‘All right.’

They went down the stairs and out on to the street. A black cab with a glowing yellow light soon came past. They hailed it then collapsed on to the wide leather seat. They turned to one another as they both sank back, exhausted.

‘We did it,’ she said softly.

‘We did,’ he answered, and they stared at each other. Instantly the atmosphere in the cab was transformed: crackling with tension. The next moment Adam reached for her and they were kissing passionately.

When it happened Allegra felt no surprise.
Yes, this was supposed to happen. This is what I want
. His kiss sent thrills
through
her body. She couldn’t think of anything but the delicious taste of him and that she wanted as much of him as possible.

A moment later he pulled away and stared at her. ‘Allegra,’ he said in a soft voice.

‘Shhhh.’ She put a finger to his lips. ‘Let’s not talk about it. Not yet.’ She pulled his head back to hers and kissed him again. He responded fiercely

The taxi driver discreetly ignored them until he came to a halt outside the house. Allegra had moved over the summer from her beloved Marylebone flat to a large Georgian double-fronted mansion on the edge of Regent’s Park. The taxi stood outside for quite a while before the driver said, ‘S’cuse me, mate, we’re at your address!’

Adam pulled reluctantly away from Allegra, brushing her hair down with a gentle hand. ‘Shall I come in?’ he asked breathlessly.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Imogen’s asleep inside. I don’t want to wake her.’ There was a pause. ‘Can I come to your place?’

He laughed with relief. ‘Of course you can!’

They sat in silence as the taxi headed north towards Kentish Town. The early-morning buses were already starting their routes, the delivery trucks were taking the city’s supplies to its clubs, restaurants, hotels, schools and hospitals. The night was almost over but Allegra sensed that the most important part of it for her was yet to come. She felt oddly calm but very happy with Adam’s hand wrapped tightly around hers.

Less than ten minutes later the cab drew up in front of a large mansion block. Adam led her in through the front door and up to his second-floor flat. The minute they were through the door, he was pressing her up against the wall as he kissed her. She reached for his jacket, pushing it over his
shoulders
and forcing it off, then started unbuttoning his shirt. He had one arm round her slender waist, pulling her close to him, as he ran his other hand over her body.

He pulled away from her mouth and panted, ‘How do you undo this dress?’

Allegra laughed and said, ‘You’d better let me do it.’

She stepped away from him and, in the dim light of the hall, unzipped the side fastening of her dress, slipped off the shoulder strap and let it fall to the floor, so that she was standing there in her pale pink bra, tiny lacy pants and high-heeled shoes.

‘Christ,’ said Adam hoarsely. ‘You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe it.’

She moved towards him, walking like a catwalk model, swinging her hips. She felt suddenly amazingly sexy, overcome with lust for him. She hadn’t ever felt like that about someone she’d already slept with. He could only stare at her in wonder as she snaked her arms round his neck and pulled him close, pushing her tongue into his mouth and kissing him deeply. He hastily finished unbuttoning his shirt, then she pushed it back off his shoulders, revealing his firm, toned chest and stomach, and it fell to the floor as well. As they kissed, she undid his trousers deftly and then slid his boxer shorts down, putting her hands on his round, hard buttocks. He pushed in towards her and she felt the hot iron rod of his prick pressing against the scratchy lace of her pants.