Untaming Lily Wilde (23 page)

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Authors: Olivia Fox

BOOK: Untaming Lily Wilde
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S xx

 

FROM: Seb Harper / TO: [email protected] / Feb 12 / 10:23

Lily, what’s the news?

Major jet-lag. It’s like 5 something in the morning here. Hope it all went OK.

Seb x

 

FROM: Seb Harper / TO: [email protected] / Feb 12 / 13:01

OK - starting to worry now. Are you OK?? And why isn’t your phone working?

Sx

 

My phone?
It hadn’t occurred to her that he might try to call. But her phone was working just fine, wasn’t it? Then she remembered.

 

FROM: Lily Wilde / TO: [email protected] / Feb 12 / 14.54

Oops. Sorry. Think I set my mobile to block calls from unknown numbers (was getting junk-calls)- are you on a diff phone? I’ll sort it. And sorry for slow response.

Yesterday went fine. Better than fine. All quite crazy really, but had a good time. How much do you want to know?…

L x

 

As she pressed SEND, Lily hoped and prayed he wouldn’t ask her for a blow by blow account - even a vague synopsis was going to be fairly excruciating. It wasn’t that she felt she was being unfaithful - it was more that she didn’t want to rub his face in it. And she definitely didn’t want to be getting into the whole ‘Grayson’s got a whopping great dong’ conversation.

Within minutes, his reply landed in her inbox.

 

FROM: Seb Harper / TO: [email protected] / Feb 12 / 15:03

That would depend. If you’re wanting to talk about it, go ahead. If not, I’m fine with not knowing. I’m trusting Ana and Grayson not to push you too far. So I guess, unless you’re uncomfortable with anything, you don’t need to report the details. I’ll leave it for you to decide.

S x

 

Lily mulled this over. She’d been so anxious about the sex last night, when in actual fact, that side of things had been - well - pretty great. Her discomfort, if she could call it that, was entirely to do with Seb. She contemplated asking him about the photos. Was Grayson really so sure that Seb wouldn’t mind them snooping? She remembered how violated she’d felt when Tom had read her diary. Wasn’t this the same thing?

 

FROM: Lily Wilde / TO: [email protected] / Feb 12 / 13:20

No, I’m fine with not going into details. But the same goes for you - if there’s anything in your past you ever want to talk about, go ahead. Anything.

She read that back. Not exactly subtle. She may as well have written ‘Hey Seb, I’ve found out some juicy stuff about you - anything you want to confess? Freaky bondage tables? Boy/boy blow-jobs?’. DELETE DELETE DELETE…

No, I’m fine with not going into details. Is the show going up today?

L x

 

And that was it. Topic closed.

Lily felt empty. She told herself it was the distance - that, when they were face to face she’d be able to navigate her way smoothly through these kinds of conversations. When she was with him it was all she could do not to bare her soul. Emailing him felt different - stilted, somehow. But it was just for a month. As soon as he got his butt back to England, her ‘discomfort’ would no doubt just melt away into nothingness. Until then, well - she was a big girl - she’d just have to get a grip.

16

 

 

 

 

The following working week was a struggle. She'd not told Cayley that she and Seb were now a thing - the fewer who knew, the easier it was for him and Ana to keep up the marriage pretense. However, this meant that every time Cayley made some little wink-wink nudge-nudge comment about Seb, Lily had to play along. Each day felt like one long lie. Every time the masquerade was mentioned, ie every other sentence, Lily had to act cool, calm and professional as though it were just any other job, suppressing her growing anxiousness about actually attending the damned thing. On top of this, she was getting text after text from Emma, wanting to know how things were going with 'the American' and/or the 'married mystery man'.

She'd had to tell Emma some of what had happened previously - albeit an extremely vague, pared down version - after all, Emma knew all about the resolution and wasn't going to stop harping on about it til Lily got some action. Emma, thank heavens, had agreed to say nothing to Cayley. But, this left the three friends oddly disconnected. Lily found herself constantly fretting, trying to remember what she'd said to whom. And, as a result, she could feel herself growing more and more guarded.

Work brought its own pressures. The masquerade preparations were now coming together. The centre-piece of the show was to be a twice-scale gondola, pimped up with red leather upholstery, chains and shackles. A chequered dance-floor (or fuck-floor, as Cayley liked to call it, not realizing she was giving Lily palpitations each time she said it) was to be laid out in the huge dining hall. Two gold thrones were to be placed in the entrance hall, enabling the hosts to greet their guests in style. By some small miracle, Lily had managed to source a pattern cutter/ designer, willing to work overtime (for the right money) to complete the dress commission. And, in order to clothe the remaining guests, Lily had placed large hire orders with two high-end costume supply stores.

There had been a few hiccups organizing the Venetian bar.
What the hell does a Venetian bar look like anyway?
Lily’d said, after the fifth confused catering company had failed to come through with the goods. But Cayley had managed to pull a few strings, and had organized a regular cocktail bar with some additional flourishes, and flouncy ornamentation. And by Thursday, everything was right on schedule. The prep team would be busting a gut at Hatherly the following day, but today, for the first time all week, they were taking it easy.

By 5pm on the dot, the girls were swiping out of Bellevue, catching the tube into the West End, to meet Emma from work.

The window display to Thrills, was a head-turner - at least it would have been, had the shop been anywhere but Soho. As it was, the burlesque-styled mannequins with their feather fans and nipple tassels got their fair share of glances but few people seemed to be going in.

Emma was leaning on the counter with a glazed look of deep-set distraction, when Lily and Cayley entered the shop.

The only remaining customer - a young woman with a fondness for black - gave the newcomers a furtive glance, before returning a leather corset to its rack, and leaving the store.

“Slow day?” asked Lily.

Emma nodded. “Uh-huh. Slow and weird. Tom came by,” she said.

Lily’s guts entwined into something resembling a pretzel. “What did he want?”

Emma shrugged, “I couldn’t say for sure. It was kind of like he’d stopped by to flash his cash. Said he was just passing and wanted to say ‘hi’ - which sounded like bollocks, but he kept going on about how he was going to get a big payout sometime soon - said he was planning on a big blow-out holiday and…” she paused.

“What?” Cayley was enthralled.

“It doesn’t matter. Anyway, I told him straight out that he can’t drop by like we’re old friends. I’m not Switzerland. I’ve chosen my side and he can fuck off, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Yeah yeah,” said Cayley, “We know that part. But
what
doesn’t matter?!”

Emma looked at Lily.

“Go on,” Lily said. “Just say it.”

Emma looked deeply uncomfortable. “Well,” she said, “he asked me if I wanted to go with him. It was
weird
, Lily. He must have known I’d tell him to go fuck himself. But he was coming on all flirtatious
anyway
, like he wanted - well -” she looked embarrassed. “Like he wanted me to do exactly what I’m doing right now… I’m such an idiot. I guess he’s just trying to hurt you. Trying to show you he’s moved on. Prick.”

But Lily knew it was
more
than that. Flirting with Emma was just his way of twisting the knife in. Tom’s main reason for dropping by was the money. He was gloating - letting Lily know he was bribing Seb for all he could get. But why hadn’t Seb said anything? Lily wondered if Seb even
knew
. She resolved to phone Grayson and take it up with him when she got home.

“You OK, honey?” Emma asked her, looking contrite.

“Sure, I’m fine. It’s not your fault - stop looking so guilty,” she said. She was trying her best to sound nonchalant, but the expressions on her friends’ faces told her they weren’t convinced. “Anyhow,” Lily went on, “are we going to lock up shop and get coffees or what?”

“Coffees?” Cayley sighed. “What d’ya say we go back for more cocktails? It’s early. We can go to that gorgeous new sushi place off Tottenham Court Road and get something light to munch; we could be at the bar by 7, and we’d have the place to ourselves for a good gossip. Then by 9 o’clock - 10 at the latest - we’ll be ready to go home and get some beauty sleep. Come on ladies, the night is young!”

True to form, Cayley had the evening all mapped out. Five minutes ago, Lily would have jumped at the chance to unwind with the girls; she was conscious that her secretiveness was getting in the way of her friendships, and she didn't like it one bit. Some girl-time was sorely needed. But right now she just wanted to make that phone call, and she wanted to do it in the privacy of her own flat.

Emma was looking at her expectantly. The day Emma said ‘no’ to an evening out would be the day she started picking up her pension.

Lily felt bad. She’d seen so little of Emma since she’d started this job, but they’d just have to arrange something for a later date. “Sorry,” she said, “We never fixed a plan. I’m shattered.”

“First round’s my shout?” said Cayley.

“Thanks but no. But next week, definitely. I promise.
My
shout,” Lily replied. Unless you guys want to go ahead without me? I don’t mind,” she said, knowing they wouldn’t. Emma wasn’t great one-on-one with Cayley.

“No, next week’s fine,” Emma sighed, unlocking the till to count the takings. “Just let me do this, and we’ll grab those coffees.”

Cayley looked mildly put out, but soon seemed happy enough perusing the crotchless knickers while Emma busied herself with the till. Lily, all the while, replayed what Emma had said about Tom. If he
was
being paid off, why hadn’t anyone told her?

An hour on, as they sat in Nude Espresso, draining their mugs, Lily was still puzzling over the same conundrum. She’d been so totally distracted that she’d hardly been present while Cayley grilled Emma on her maybe-relationship with her boss. And later, as they weaved through the crowds to Leicester Square Underground, Lily kept finding herself having rushed way ahead of the others, so keen was she to get going.

“Lily!” Emma shouted, as her friend disappeared out of view for the umpteenth time. “Wait up!”

Lily brought herself to a standstill in the tube station entrance. “Sorry, I was daydreaming,” she said.

Emma studied Lily’s face, looking deflated. “It’s the Tom thing isn’t it. I’m such a fucktard. Sorry. I’ve gone and screwed up the evening, haven’t I?”

Lily offered her the best smile she could muster. “Don’t be daft. I’m just knackered. Work’s been full-on, not that you’d know it to look at Miss Bionic Woman over there.”

“I heard that,” said Cayley.

“But I promise, next time I’ll be on top form - all singing all dancing - you won’t recognize me with all the enthusiasm.”

Emma was still scrutinizing her friend’s expression. “Next time, just be the Lily we know and love,” she said. “Not that we don’t love preoccupied-Lily. Well, you know what I mean.”

Lily hugged Emma first, then pulled Cayley into the mix.

“OK. So, you’re both taking the Piccadilly Line, right? Em, I’ll text you. Cayley, see you bright and early.”

Lily finally waved her friends goodbye, and watched as they soon became absorbed into the rush-hour crowds. Then, she joined the Northern Line bustle, managing to just about squeeze onto the next train, between two very sweaty work men. Oh yes - London life was all glamour. With some difficulty, narrowly avoiding being maimed by a speeding suitcase, she switched trains at Embankment, and hurtled up the District Line to her final destination.

Once she’d eased herself free from the squish of commuters, she hot-footed it down Whitechapel Road, arriving back home in record time.

She kicked off her shoes, heading straight into her living room, and slung her coat over the arm of the sofa. Then, as soon as she’d caught her breath, she grabbed her mobile and dialed up Grayson Paige.

His phone rang and rang. Just as Lily thought she’d be put onto voice-mail, he answered. “Hey, Lily, what’s up?” The words were friendly enough, but his voice lacked its standard sparkle.

She took a deep breath before speaking. “I’ve just been with a friend - she saw Tom earlier today, and he said something strange - maybe I’m panicking over nothing -”

“What did he say?”

“Well,” she began, “he said he had a big lump-sum of cash coming in soon. Does he mean - well - has he demanded money?”

For a couple of seconds there was just silence, then Grayson sighed. “I got an email from Tom this morning, “ he said. “And yeah. He wants money. Sometimes I really question your taste in men, you know.”

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