Ruthless (34 page)

He was driving her crazy now, unzipping her dress, yanking it off her.

‘That’s a very expensive dress, could you be careful with that,’ she managed to gasp.

‘Shut up,’ he ordered against her mouth, pulling off his shirt. ‘Where’s the catch on this damned thing?’ he asked, kneeling, tossing her on to her front and examining the clasp on her bra. ‘Oh right. Got it.’

He rolled her over on to her back, pulled her bra off, threw it on to the floor. Then paused, gazing hungrily at her naked breasts.

‘That’s . . .’ said Annie, feeling almost light-headed as she watched him. She’d stopped laughing.

‘What? An expensive bra? Couture, is it?’ His hands went to her breasts, smoothing over them, making her shiver, making her nipples spring into life.

‘As it happens, it is.’

‘Right. What about these?’ He was pulling down the matching pants, tossing those aside too.

‘They’re
extremely
expensive,’ said Annie faintly, feeling the hot pulse of desire start as he knelt there, staring at her. ‘And you know what?’

‘No. What?’ he was unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans, pushing them down on to his thighs along with his underpants.

‘Oh . . .’ said Annie as he got between her legs. The hard length of his cock touched her there, where she was most sensitive.

‘Come on. What?’ he said, looming over her.

‘I really hate you,’ she murmured.

‘Hate away,’ he said, and entered her almost roughly.

‘I can’t believe I just did that,’ she said a while later, yawning, lying perfectly relaxed against his chest.

‘Actually,’ said Max, turning towards her, ‘I think you’re about to do it again . . .’

They did it again. Annie screamed in orgasm this time, and lay sweating and panting in his arms afterwards. She felt as though she’d been picked up and flung against a wall. But that was nothing new. Max
always
made her feel that way.

‘Now I’m sore,’ she complained mildly.

‘I’m not,’ said Max, and she thumped him.

‘I have to get off this bed while I can still walk,’ she moaned, not wanting to.

She just wanted to lie there with him, to cling on to the dream. That they were lovers. That he wasn’t a jealous maniac. That there wasn’t danger lurking round every corner. That Layla wasn’t going to come looking for her soon, only to find her parents tangled together in bed, like guilty teenagers enjoying their first fuck.

That
thought made her sit up and scoot to the edge of the bed. She looked over her shoulder at him. God, he was gorgeous.

‘What am I doing? I swore I was never again going to get into this,’ she said, clutching her head. ‘I
promised
myself I wouldn’t.’

‘Come back to bed.’

‘
No!
’

75

Annie told Layla at breakfast next day that she wanted her to go back to Ellie’s. She’d discussed it with Max and Alberto, she said, and it seemed the safest option.

‘What?
’ asked Layla. This was ridiculous. She was feeling like a ping-pong ball, being batted back and forth without any say in the matter.

‘You heard. I think we were premature in bringing you here,’ said Annie. ‘I’ve talked this over with your father and he agrees. There’s safety in numbers you know. Anyone out to get you at the club would have to get past a
lot
of security, and your room’s up on the first floor . . .’

‘My room here’s on the first floor,’ Layla pointed out.

She didn’t mention that Dad had taken her room, the one adjoining the master suite that Annie occupied. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. For so long she’d prayed for her parents to get back together, and now . . . maybe it was finally happening. Or maybe it wasn’t. She didn’t want to get her hopes up only to have them dashed.

‘I’m sorry about this, honestly I am. But since the business with the shooting, and then the way we were all lured away . . . I just don’t want you put at risk, that’s all. The decision’s made.’

‘And if I disagree . . .?’ asked Layla.

She wouldn’t. She was rather keen to get back to the club, truth be told. She was getting on better with Mum these days, and she was impressed by the way Annie had handled herself throughout this fraught situation; but she was also missing the girls. Missing Precious, in particular.

Layla gave in. ‘OK then. Why not?’

‘Good . . .’ Annie paused. She’d been about to say ‘good girl’, but that no longer applied. Layla was a woman now.

So here Layla was once again, turning up at the club. Ellie and Chris welcomed her with open arms.

Precious was ecstatic to have her back, hugging her, hitting her with sultry waves of Giorgio.

‘How’s tricks?’ Layla asked her that evening.

‘So-so.’

‘I haven’t seen China yet. Is she in?’

Precious frowned. ‘She’s a bit down, poor love. Her daughter’s ill. They don’t think it’s serious, but she’s going out of her mind. Tia’s on the other side of the world, and she’s here. It breaks her up.’

‘And Destiny?’

‘That bastard’s beating her up again. Why she stays with him is a mystery to me. The first mark on her face hadn’t even had time to heal before he added a second one, so she’s still off work and I’m doing double time. We’ve got a couple new girls in too. Sapphire and Opal.’

‘How’s the studying going?’

‘I’m well into stress management now.’

‘I could do with some of that.’

‘Remember the heart-brain exercise. You got problems?’

‘Some. And Alberto . . . I don’t know.’

‘He likes the new look?’

‘I think I’ve bewildered him. He’s having to reassess.’

‘Well, that’s good.’

‘I’m not sure. Is it? God, what am I doing? Do I really want this? I feel as if I’m going crazy.’

‘Positive thinking,’ Precious reminded her.

‘Hm,’ said Layla.

The evening passed, with the steady boom of music from the club below keeping Layla company in her room while she read a book. Feeling restless, at eleven o’clock she went along to the kitchen to make a drink. Tony and Chris were playing cards at the table. Of course – it was breaktime, Chris was supposed to be filling in for Kyle or whoever was on duty tonight. Grabbing the opportunity, Layla snuck into the monitor room with her mug of tea in her hand.

The two new girls – Sapphire, a statuesque Nigerian, and Opal, a tiny blonde – were working two of the private dancing rooms downstairs, entertaining two middle-aged men. And there was Precious, dancing for a man in his twenties who had a large, embarrassed smile on his face.

Layla watched for a little while, then stole along the corridor to her room before Kyle’s fill-in or Kyle himself returned.

Alberto showed up at noon the next day, surrounded by his usual phalanx of heavies led by Sandor. Alberto stepped into Layla’s room, and closed the door to give them some privacy.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Are Mum and Dad OK?’

‘They’re fine. Still fighting, but fine.’

He was silent, staring at her face.

‘So what brings you here?’ she asked.

He leaned against the door, folded his arms and stared at her.

‘You’re not my sister,’ he said.

Layla swallowed hard. ‘No. I’m not.’

‘And I’m not your brother.’

‘No. You’re not.’

‘So what the hell
are
you?’ he asked.

‘What?’

‘He shrugged. ‘Look, you’ve moved the parameters of my world. I don’t know what the hell to make of you right now. If we’re not related—’

‘Stop
saying
that. Of course we’re not related. We never have been.’

‘Which leaves us . . . where?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Layla. Her heart was thumping.

‘Then I think it’s time we found out exactly what our relationship is. This
new
relationship, I mean. Don’t you?’

Oh Jesus. This was all moving faster than she had anticipated. Well, in fact she had anticipated a big fat nothing. That he would still see her as his little sister, that he would be unable to move on from that mindset. Instead, thanks to Precious’s intervention, Alberto seemed to be assimilating this new set-up with frightening speed. Was she ready for this? No. She wasn’t.

‘In that case, what do I call you?’ she asked brightly, defensively.

‘Huh?’

‘Should I call you something different? How about Albie?’

‘
What?
’

‘Bertie, then?’

‘I will kill you,’ he said, starting to smile.

‘Alberto then,’ said Layla.

‘That’s fine with me.’ He looked at her dubiously. ‘So . . . Layla. This is damned awkward. But if you want to, I guess we could date.’

Layla gulped hard. ‘In the middle of all this?’

‘Why not? Yesterday I could have died. That kind of puts things in perspective.’

‘Jesus, don’t say that.’

‘It’s the truth. And it’s made me think.’ He looked at her, and there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. ‘Maybe we should be grabbing life’s chances, not letting them pass by.’

‘Dating? I don’t know,’ said Layla. It seemed weird. She’d wanted this, had tried for it . . . she just hadn’t expected to succeed with such phenomenal speed. Now she was feeling the old Layla inside her, backing away, saying,
No, let’s not do this.
She knew damned well that he was more than she could handle. He was an upfront, in-your-face American, and she was a tight-arsed insular Brit. He was so bent he could see round corners and she was so straight it was ridiculous. But for God’s sake,
she
had started this. Not him.

‘If you don’t want to—’

‘No! I mean, I do want to.’

He nodded slowly. ‘Good. So . . . how about the day after tomorrow?’

Layla was sitting on the bed when Precious came in.

‘You’re quiet in here,’ she said.

‘Alberto thinks we should go on a date,’ said Layla.

They stared at one another. Then suddenly they both shrieked and hugged one another.

‘Oh Jesus, oh God help me, I’m not sure about this,’ said Layla, laughing.

‘Hey, it’s a date, that’s all. I wonder though, is this a London date, or a Manhattan date?’

‘What are you on about?’

‘Alberto’s a Manhattanite. And in Manhattan, men and women date several people at a time, not exclusively, until they decide they’re ready to date just one person seriously.’

Layla’s face fell. ‘You mean this is a casual thing for him? Not serious?’

‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?’

‘I can’t ask him that!’

‘Well, I would. After all, he’s one of the most gorgeous men on the planet.’

‘Oh shit. You’re not helping.’

‘There’s only one other problem.’

‘What?’

‘What the hell are you going to wear? When is this date happening?’

‘Thursday night. You think the red dress is too much?’

‘Way
too much. The guy’s in shock as it is, let’s not push him over the edge just yet. Shopping. Tomorrow.’

76

The following evening, Layla was having another exciting night of telly and bed when Ellie tapped on her door. ‘Phone for you, lovey. It’s Mr Barolli.’

Ellie went off into the kitchen. Layla gave the luscious red box in the corner of her bedroom a gleeful glance as she hurried out to take his call – inside was the most stunning gown. Her and Precious had shopped for and bought it this afternoon. She’d tried it on three times since she’d got back to Ellie’s place.

‘That’s a hot date gown if ever I saw one,’ said Precious when Layla tried it on in the boutique.

And it was – a sheath of pure cream silk, bias-cut, that skimmed over her body as if made for it.

Grinning, she hurried along to the office, picked up the phone.

‘Hello?’ Her mouth was dry but she was smiling.

‘Hey, Layla,’ said Alberto. ‘I just wanted a word.’

It was eleven o’clock at night. Couldn’t this have waited until morning? ‘About what?’

‘This date thing.’

‘Oh yeah. That. Precious said I should ask you something about that.’

‘What?’

‘Is this a Manhattan date, or a London date?’

‘Layla . . .’

‘Hm?’

‘I don’t want to be dishonest with you.’

‘Well, that’s good.’ Her voice remained calm, but Layla was thinking
what is this?

‘Things are happening. Things you don’t know about, things I can’t tell you.’

Layla stared at the phone.

‘Layla,’ he went on, ‘I wasn’t thinking straight yesterday. I can’t get involved with you right now. It wouldn’t be fair.’

Layla’s smile died on her lips.

‘Layla? You still there?’

She took a breath. ‘So this is a kiss-off, is that it? You’re giving me that old “It’s not you, it’s me” line. Is that right?’

‘No. Not at all.’

‘Oh come on.’ She felt as if he’d cut her heart out. Her laugh was brittle with pain. ‘You said you were going to be honest.’

‘I’m being honest, Layla. I can’t get into this. For your sake.’

Her innards were churning with the intensity of her hurt and disappointment, she could feel her eyes brimming with tears.

‘You cruel bastard,’ she said shakily.

He was silent for a moment. ‘Yeah. That’s me.’

Layla put the phone down. Her whole world was collapsing around her. That awful night when she’d shot Orla, the red-headed man who’d pursued her, losing her job, the fire in the office, and now . . . ah fuck, now Alberto had blown her out. After all that trying, all that hard work, it had all come to nothing.

‘Everything OK?’ asked Ellie, standing in the open doorway with a steaming mug in her hand.

‘Fine,’ said Layla, brushing quickly at her eyes.

Ellie looked at Layla. She could see that things
weren’t
fine, far from it, but it wasn’t up to her to pry into Carter business. ‘I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,’ she said, and went off along the hall.

Layla came out of the office, trembling, swiping angrily at her tears. She passed the monitor room: it was empty. She stumbled inside. She wanted to talk to Precious, but of course she was busy downstairs. Perhaps she’d be able to see her on the monitors . . .? Kyle was on his break, it was quiet in the monitor room, dark, Kyle’s fill-in was nowhere to be seen. She heard the loo flush along the hall.