Lauren peered out the window as the car rolled to a standstill and Andrew turned off the engine. She could see the dark façade of the hotel and the neatly trimmed greenery that lined the first floor balcony. Windows glowed invitingly, and people moved about inside like warm shadows.
Henry swizzled towards her on the leather seat. "Are you sure you want to?" he asked, his eyes staring intently into hers.
She pressed her hand to the car door to steady herself. "Yes," she said.
Henry nodded and clicked open the door of the Bentley and a blast of ice cold wind rushed in. Lauren gasped and pulled her coat tightly about her and tucked her chin into the neck. Henry was already on the pavement and she slid out after him.
"I'll call you tomorrow for pick-up," said Henry, leaning into the car to talk to Andrew before he banged his hand on the roof and shut the door. The car drove off into the night and suddenly Lauren felt a strange kind of fear come over her. She turned to look at Henry who was pacing back and forth, a few steps one way, a few back the other. He stopped and looked up at her. "Is this too much? Is it too soon?" he asked.
"I hardly think it's too soon," she said, half a laugh in the back of her throat.
Henry rubbed his chin and began to pace again. "No. No. I suppose you're right. But I don't want to...I wouldn't want...I mean, coming here, like this. Are we -"
Lauren laid her hand on his arm and, looking up at him, waited until she felt the tension dissipate from his body. "What's wrong?"
"Shit. I don't know." He raised his hands to his forehead, entwining his fingers in his dark hair. "I mean, I want to but -"
"You know what?" she asked, waiting for him to focus on her. "You were a whole lot sexier when you didn't care." She watched as he frowned at her, and then she laughed, delighted to see him smile back at her so widely that it looked as though his cheeks would split.
He grabbed her hand in his. "Right Miss Taylor, that's enough," he said, pulling her towards the entrance and through into the lobby. "Wait here," he said, directing her to a seat near an oversized ornamental birdcage. She watched him walk towards the reception desk, hardly able to believe that a man like him actually wanted her. Every inch of him looked expensive, elite. His clothes screamed wealth; his leather shoes, bespoke suit and navy cashmere overcoat. He had a maroon scarf wrapped about his neck.
Chatting to the receptionist, Henry looked to be back to normal, smiling and charming her. He had one forearm resting on the desk and one of his feet touched the floor only at the toe. His body was almost entirely still; he wasn't faffing about as he had been outside. Something, Lauren knew, had made him nervous, and she allowed herself to wonder whether it was the idea of being alone with her. She watched as he took out his phone and stared intently at the screen, his thumb rapidly scrolling down his messages. He looked uncomfortable, his lips tightly drawn together; but he clicked the phone off and slipped it back into the pocket of his overcoat and turned to look at her.
God, how she wanted him, she thought, as she watched him walking towards her. Had the drive to the hotel taken the spontaneity out of it? Would it have been better if they had made love on the piles of coats in Emily's bedroom? Somehow Lauren thought not. This was almost official: they were here together as two consenting adults. Or at least it would have been official if there weren't something nagging at Lauren. Why a hotel? Why not his house? It's not as if they were particularly far away.
He offered her his hand and she took it, standing up and following him towards the lift. A bellboy asked what floor and pressed the button, and Lauren watched as the indicator revealed what how close it was. Henry had let go of her hand, but his body was pressed so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of him, and she longed for it.
In the lift, as the doors closed, he pulled her into his arms, and kissed her as though he couldn't wait any longer. He pressed her against the wall and she felt his fingers reaching into her hair at the nape of her neck. Only when the lift jolted to a stop did he pull away from her, and she found herself almost breathless.
Henry led her along a carpeted corridor and slid the keycard into the door, waiting for the lock to turn green. "Sorry, it's not the best," he said, looking at her over his shoulder. "They're busy this time of year."
Lauren pressed her hands onto his back and pushed him into the room. "I don't care," she whispered.
"You really don't mind it's a hotel?" he asked. "Because we could wait -"
"Wait?" she asked. "Are you kidding me? I couldn't wait now if you paid me," she said, watching his shocked expression melt away as she grinned playfully at him.
"Oh I see," he said. "You think you can joke about the money thing now?"
She pushed her hands against his chest, forcing him to stumble backwards into the room and toppled after him. He reached out and caught her, pushing the door shut over her shoulder and slid the key-card into the electricity slot lighting up the room.
Lauren was stunned by what she saw. They were standing in the sitting room area of a large suite, with windows that looked out onto the street below. The large sofas were covered in a golden satin and strew with cushions. The carpet was deep and rich and she felt her heels sinking into it. On the coffee table was a bucket with champagne and two glasses, which only served to remind Lauren of the club.
Henry dimmed the lights and pulled the curtains closed. "Would you like a drink?" he asked, pulling the champagne bottle out of the bucket by the neck and holding it up.
"Is that part of your routine?" asked Lauren, throwing him a disapproving look. He immediately replaced it and moved away, pulling her towards him.
"Where would you like to make love?" he asked, kissing her neck softly.
Lauren let her head loll backwards. "Everywhere. But let's start in the bedroom." And she felt him tip her up and carry her through to a huge room with a four poster bed. The fabric of hte canopy and bedspread was garish: black and a creamy golden stripe. The lighting was low and she smiled to see that someone had had time to cover the bed with rose petals before they arrived. There was a great mirror on the back wall that ran from the headboard to the upper canopy, and was covered with gold netting. She bit her lip at the thought of a reflection anywhere nearby when they...
Suddenly she felt her body shift and her feet touch the floor as Henry placed her down. He stood back from her so no part of their bodies were touching and just stared at her, right into her eyes, and she felt herself drowning in them, suffocating, wanting to gasp for breath. His green eyes shone as he looked at her, alive with an inner flame that seemed to scorch her. Why wasn't he touching her? She reached out but he shook his head and she dropped her arm. The energy and desire than ran between them seemed so loud that Lauren was content with silence. There was no need for words, and as he trailed his fingers along the edge of her coat she let herself relax, allowing her body to want him.
"Don't leave me," he whispered, as he continued to stare at her, his fingers nimbly undoing the buttons of her coat and sliding it from her shoulders.
She didn't reply, confident that all that went between them as their eyes connected was enough to tell him that she had no intention of leaving him, ever. She slipped off her shoes, feeling the soft carpet between her toes.
Henry eased the silk of her top up, over her breasts and shoulders and over her head. She raised her arms and let him pull it from her body. She watched as it fluttered to the floor. Henry brushed his fingertips from her neck, down across her chest, letting them tease at the lace of her bra. With his other hand he stroked the bar skin of her hip and moved his body closer to her; so close she could smell his deep rich scent that made her yearn for him.
He reached around and undid her bra, and she felt her breast fall free, but Henry's hand was their, cupping the underside of her breast, flicking gently over the nipple with his thumb until it was hard. And then he pressed his mouth to it, tickling it with his tongue and finishing with a kiss.
"You have beautiful breasts," he said, his voice soft and warm against her ear. And she felt his hand at her trousers, undoing the buttons, letting them slip to the floor. And then he pushed her to the bed and pulled at her knickers, sliding them over her thighs. Lauren felt her body pulse for him, wanting to be touched, thrilled, penetrated. She shifted further up the bed and opened her legs, just a little, just enough to tease him, feeling the wetness between her thighs.
Henry, still fully clothed, even his scarf still draped about his neck, stared at her. And then he knelt forward on the bed until he could slide his hand all the way up her thigh. Lauren gasped as she felt his hand approach the very centre of her desire. She eased her legs further open, giving him access, their eyes never breaking contact as he stroked her, slowly at first, easing his fingers inside. Lauren gripped the sheets beneath her and bit her lip to stop from crying out. And then he began to move faster and, his thumb moving over her swollen bud, over and over, faster and faster, sliding in Lauren's wetness. And then, once more, just as her body began to shiver with the approach of climax, he stopped.
He tugged at his own trousers, his movements frantic, hardly bothering to remove them further than necessary to free himself, and then he leant over her as she lay and, with one swift movement, plunged deep inside her, his hands around her back, lifting her up towards him, pulling himself deeper, deeper into her. She tugged at the fabric of his coat, unable to touch his skin, feeling his body rock as his orgasm filled her.
And simultaneously Lauren felt her own climax roll through her body like a wave of blood, tingling for long moments after it was over, and even when Henry touched her again she came once more, so eager was she for him.
The lay, side by side, the sheets rucked around them, their chests rising and falling, the sound of their breathing loud.
"You didn't take off your clothes," she said, fingering a button on his coat. "Your trousers will be ruined," she said, glancing down at them.
Henry pulled her closer to him. "You can ruin all my trousers if you want," he said, kissing her nose and laughing.
Lauren rolled onto her back. "Could it ever be enough though?" asked Lauren, staring at the ceiling.
She felt him move on the bed next to her, propping himself up on his elbow to stare at her. "What do you mean?"
She sighed. "I've never felt like this before. About anyone. It's so -" she paused and licked her lips - "all consuming. When you're in a room I can think of nothing but you. And how much I want to -"
"Well," he said, kissing her and drawing back, "now you can. Whenever you want."
"Henry?" she said, drawing out the sound of his name in a pleading tone.
"What?"
"Can I undress you?" she asked, but before he could reply she was already on her knees, straddling him and easing the tie knot at his neck.
As she undid each of the buttons of his shirt, Lauren felt her fingers tremble. It was like a dream. Beneath her, between her thighs, lay the most gorgeous man in the world, and he was letting her remove his clothes. She stroked his chest, ran her fingers over the ripples of the muscles in his abdomen.
"For someone who does no exercise, you have a great body," she said.
"No exercise?" he said, grabbing her about the waist and sitting up. "I'll have you know I have a personal trainer, and a gym in the basement of my house."
"Oh," she said. "That explains it then." She bent down to gently bite his nipple between her teeth, but he grabbed her firmly by the arms and rolled her over so she was once again underneath him.
"You're taking too long," he said, removing the rest of his clothes in the same amount of time it had taken her to undo his tie.
*
Lauren felt the stickiness of sweat covering her skin, shining in the dim lamplight. She disentangled herself from Henry, their limbs fighting to remain entwined. He smiled and shifted, allowing her to move. She rolled onto her side and looked at him, his hair slicked across his forehead. He brushed the damp strands away and moved so they were facing one another on the pillow. He trailed his fingers in circles on her shoulder, and up and down her arm.
Lauren said nothing, but watched the concentration flicker over his face as he stroked her. "I have no desire to leave this room," he said, glancing up at her.
"Ever?" she asked.
He laughed and rolled onto his back, laying his hands on his stomach. "Not really. But I meant today. Tonight."
"So don't."
He propped himself up on his elbows. "I left the investor dinner early last night. I have some apologies to make. There are people -"
"Why did you leave?" asked Lauren, a smirk teasing her lips. But just as she felt it was about to become a smile, Henry lurched towards her and kissed her, forcing her down onto the bed.
"Because I suddenly realised I had to tell you how I felt," he said, when he finally pulled himself off her.
Lauren pushed him away. "So what does it mean?"
"Well, for starters you'll have to quit the club. I can't date a waitress." His eyes sparkled as he spoke and Lauren thumped her fists in the hard muscle of his chest.
"Why you -"
He grasped her wrists in both hands and pulled her up towards him. And as her skin touched his again Lauren let her body relax into the embrace. "I am serious though. You should stop working there."
"I'll still have to work my notice period," she said, easing her hands from his. "It's only two weeks."
Henry sat back on his heels on the bed, and Lauren was once again amazed at his ease with his nudity. Henry Banville was sitting beside her, utterly naked. It made her want to laugh, but she just smiled instead. "I'll come down every night you're working" he said, his forehead creased.
"You don't need to do that," she said, knowing that she would never be able to resist him. Knowing he was there and not being able to spend the time exclusively with him would be torture.
"I want to. I'll speak to Vera. You can be my own personal waitress."
Lauren scratched at her temple and tilted her head to look at him. "Hold on, if the place is yours, why don't you just call and tell her I'm not working there anymore?"
A beautiful smile spread over his face and he lowered his head to kiss the tip of her nose. "Alright. But how about we have one more night in the club? I'll show you what really goes on?"
Lauren felt her breath hitch in her throat. He could have asked her anything and she would have said yes; but this? It was an odd request but, she reminded herself, she had already seen the club. She had worked there. Surely nothing could shock her, could it? Slowly, she nodded. "Alright."
"I'll be gentle," he whispered, releasing her body and lying down on the bed.
"Why do you go there?" she asked, sliding down the sheets beside him.
He shrugged and with one finger traced her nipple as he spoke. "I've been going for years. My father used to take me with him. I lost my virginity there, to a woman he chose for me."
Lauren watched as his hand retracted from her breast, his fingers tightening into a white ball. She wanted to speak, but wasn't sure what to say so she waited, quietly, watching the rise and fall of Henry's chest. But finally, the silence being too long and too tense, she said: "did he -"
Henry's eyes flickered upwards to look at her. "Try her out?" His lips quivered somewhere between a smile and a grimace. "Of course. He wanted the best for me. He never let me touch a woman he hadn't already test driven."
"But why?" said Lauren, barely able to hide the shock she felt.
"I don't know." Henry let his head rock back and forth and he twisted his fingers into the sheets. "I used to think he was testing me. But he was probably just trying to make me into the kind of man he wanted his son and heir to be."
"And what was that?"
This time he did smile. "A lothario," he said, and as he spoke Lauren felt his fingers between her legs, but she slapped them away.
"Be serious," she said, rolling out of reach and wrapping herself in the striped sheets.
"Honestly, I don't know. I didn't mind though. What teenage boy doesn't want to be taught by the most talented and experienced women in the business? It was like a dream come true."
"But your father -"
He reached out and pressed a finger to her lips. "Please. Enough."
*
Henry couldn't believe that she was there, lying next to him, her body naked beneath the sheets. They had talked for hours, and just her presence was so exciting that Henry felt he would never be able to sleep again. But eventually, Lauren had tired herself out and now she slept, her dark hair scattered across the pillow, her breathing slow and relaxed. She was utterly peaceful and totally vulnerable, and to watch her was all he wanted.
But Henry couldn't relax the way she could; there was too much to deal with. Annabel had already rung him dozens of times since he had left the investors' dinner so abruptly. He remembered he beady eyes staring as he left the room; or was he now imagining it? Had she even noticed him leave at the time?
Regardless of whether or not she had noticed when he left, she has sure as hell noticed since. He had switched the phone off back down in the lobby of the hotel, not caring what happened to Annabel or what she did, so desperate had he been to be alone with Lauren, to hold her in his arms and make love to her. But now, with Lauren asleep and unable to full distract his thoughts, he wondered if he had made a foolish and stupid mistake. She would never forgive him if the video got out, and all this would have been for nothing.
He rolled over and glanced at his watch, which he had taken off and placed on the bedside table. 5.30am. It was still dark. He could call Andrew and get him to take him home before Annabel noticed that he hadn't been back. He slipped his watch over his wrist and fastened it, and threw back the covers. The air outside the sheets was cold and he felt the hairs on his body rise. In the semi-darkness, the room lit only by the bluish glow of a cold moon outside the window, he stumbled across the floor to his coat, which lay in a heap. Thousands of pounds of bespoke coat, crumpled like it was nothing. He picked it up and shook it out and pulled his phone out of the pocket. He paused listening for Lauren's regular breathing before he headed for the bathroom.
Once inside he gently closed the door, the marble tiles cool beneath his bare feet, and switched on the light. He put the phone on the surface and ran the tap until the water was freezing cold, and then splashed it over his face. He gritted his teeth and leant both hands on the sink, and leant towards the mirror as though it was an opponent in a fist fight. There were bags under his eyes and the whites were bloodshot. He looked terrible. He grasped for a hand towel and vigorously dried his face.
Only then was he ready to turn the phone on. He rolled his eyes as he felt the nerves in his stomach toss about like snakes in bag. How could Annabel ruin this for him? And yet he felt sure she would do. He waited until the screen lit up and the phone found signal. And then the messages came, one after the other, in a relentless stream.
Where did you go?
Where are you?
Henry, if you don't come back I am coming for you.
Where have you gone?
If I find out you are with a woman, the video is going viral.
When you pick this up, come straight to me. In the flat.
Before the sun rises, Henry...
He turned the phone over so he could no longer see the screen and gripped it so hard that his fingers began to ache. All of a sudden, a lump rose in his throat. This woman had him by the balls, and she was going to squeeze every last drop from him.
What could he do? Should he tell Lauren? Should he explain that for just two weeks, he belonged to someone else? Should he tell her that he had struck a deal to protect her? Would she even understand?
He began to pace up and down the bathroom, still gripping the phone. He took a deep breath, stopped where he stood, and dialled. Holding the phone to his ear, he let it ring.
"Henry? Where the hell are you?"
"I've been caught up, but I'm coming back. I'll be back by six. I'll swing by the flat," he said, wondering if she could hear the tremor in his voice.
"You had better have a good explanation. I have my finger literally hovering over the 'send' button -"
"Well don't," he said explosively, "I'm on my way."
He hung up and called Andrew straight away, telling him to come to Blake's. Then he turned on the shower, letting the hot water soak his skin. Vigorously he washed every last trace of Lauren from his body, his skin, his hair. He felt revulsion at the thought of what he was about to do, of what he had to do.
When he was done, he pulled a soft white towel from the rack and tied it about his waist, running his fingers through his wet hair like a comb. All he wanted was to ask Lauren to be his, exclusively. But how could he do that when he was about to leave her to go to Annabel? When he had committed himself to Annabel for two weeks? God, he wanted to scream so hard that the mirror would shatter. At least then he wouldn't have to face himself.
He switched off the light and, almost blind, crept out into the bedroom. Lauren's breathing still hummed through the air, up and down, regular as clockwork. He crept about the room trying to find his clothes, his socks, his shoes, his shirt, his tie, his soiled suit. Shit. He would have to change before he saw Annabel.
As quietly as he could he got dressed, slipping on his shoes and even tying the Hermes tie about his neck and fastening his cufflinks. He was crumpled, but still relatively smart considering what he had been doing for the past few hours. The thought made him smile, and he moved towards the bed to kiss Lauren goodbye.
But as he did so he tripped on the strap of Lauren's handbag and only managed to stop himself falling by reaching out and grabbing the side of the bed. He heart was hammering against his ribs and his first instinct was to check that Lauren was alright. Had he woken her? He froze, waiting for the sound of her breathing. It stuttered, but then resumed a regular rhythm once more.
He bent to pick up the bag, its contents scattered across the floor. He stuffed lipstick, wallet, keys back inside. But as he did so he noticed the papers stuffed inside a manila envelope. His eyes slid once more to Lauren, who lay still, and he drew the package from within her handbag and pulled out the papers.
He blinked and set the handbag down on the floor as though in a daze. His eyes skimmed over the sheets of paper, sheets and sheets of paper with names and addresses. He instantly knew what it was, but he kept reading and flicking through the pages as if he might be able to prove himself wrong.
With one hand he tugged at his hair, and in the other he held the membership list so tightly that the papers crumpled.
"Henry?"
The voice startled him and he spun round to see Lauren peering anxiously at him, the sheets drawn up around her neck as she sat up.
"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked.
Henry felt an anger roll inside him, squirming with the wrath of a tiger that has been systematically starved for weeks. Was she intending to betray him? Who was the list for? How had she got it? He opened his mouth to speak, but found he could say nothing. Instead, he held the papers out towards her, aware that the shook as his arm trembled. He clenched his jaw feeling his teeth press into the sides of his tongue, and watched as Lauren's eyes peeled wide open.
And then Henry heard his voice as though it belonged to someone else. "What is this?" The question rang in the air, vibrating back and forth between them, threatening to destroy everything they had carefully built. "What were you going to do with it?" he asked.
Lauren let out a whimper, a noise more animal than human. She gripped the sheets fiercely before throwing them back and stepping towards him. Even in his anger, her naked body, her beautiful breasts, distracted him. "Why are you dressed?" she asked. "Where are you going?"
But Henry barely heard the words, feeling as though his vision was swimming and his mind was a pool of sinking sand. Lauren was neither far away nor close, but some indeterminable distance from him, wavering out of reach. "What were you going to do with this?" he said, waving the crumpled papers in his hand.
"Nothing; I wasn't going to do anything with it."
"Lydia did put you up to it, didn't she?" The papers waved above his head, crackling in the still air. "All this time I thought -"
"No!" Lauren's eyes roved about the room and her body betrayed her fear. She didn't look trustworthy and Henry began to doubt her. How well did he actually know Lauren, after all?
"Stop lying to me!" His voice was louder than he had intended, and he saw her flinch away from him.
"Alright. Yes, she asked me to. She wanted me to get her information" - she clasped her hands together before her as though she were supplicating him - "about the club."
"And you were going to deceive me -"
"No. I was never going to do anything with the list. I swear -"
"What were you doing it for? Money?" Henry saw small globules of spit fly from his mouth as he spoke, so vitriolic was the anger he felt.
Lauren reached out to him, he fingers outstretched. "No. It wasn't like that -"
But Henry stared at her as though to look at her would reveal the truth. Was she just another woman out for what she could get from him? He folded the list and slid it inside the pocket in the lining of his overcoat and wrapped his scarf about his neck. And even before he said the words he was about to say, the words he was going to let his tongue form and his mouth speak aloud, he knew they were cruel. He knew that she would hate them, and yet he said them anyway:
"Don't worry about the bill for the room. I've already settled it."