Pearl (The Pearl Series) (23 page)

Just at that moment, there was another knock at the door and a voice, which I knew well, cried out, “Alexandre, it’s me. I know you’re in there, let me in.”

Bloody hell.
It was Laura.

Being so relieved that it wasn’t a bunch of furious uncles about to launch an attack, I let Laura in. She looked taller than usual, or perhaps I had just gotten used to Pearl. Laura seemed Amazonian in comparison—she was at least six foot two in heels. Her blonde hair flowed down her back and her bee-stung lips pouted at me like a small child who was determined to get her daddy’s attention.

“Alex, why the look of suspicion on your face? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She stepped into the room and threw her white cashmere coat onto an armchair. She looked like a supermodel: tall, skinny. Swaggering with confidence, even though she was using a cane and had a very slight limp. The cane was black with a mother-of-pearl handle, so it matched her glamorous outfit.

“How did you get past reception?”

“Oh please,” she murmured, as if I’d said the dumbest thing in the world. She thrust her shoulders back and stuck out her chest. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her nipples pointed sharp under her flimsy silk blouse. “Well, aren’t you going to kiss me hello?”

I came over to her and offered a peck on the cheek. She responded with a soft, damp kiss. “I’ve missed you darling,” she breathed into my ear.

“Shame Pearl couldn’t be here,” I said in reply, walking to the other end of the room and sitting on a couch. “She would have loved to have met you.”
Not.

“So how’s your mum?” she said, totally ignoring my comment.

“Fine. I saw her in Paris a couple of months ago. Or was it just last month? Time flies.”

“Yes, time does fly. Especially when you’re suffering.” She looked down at the floor.

“I’m sorry if things haven’t turned out the way you wanted, Laura. But you’re looking great. I see you’re on your feet again. You should be proud of yourself. So, what was it that was so important and couldn’t wait? What did you want to talk to me about?”

She flicked her long hair. “I’ve always been curious to see this famous penthouse apartment at The Connaught.” She surveyed her surroundings with approval. “Nice. Very chic. I’ll go and check out the balcony in a moment, when I’ve caught my breath. I have to say, it’s stunning. I could quite happily move in.”

“Your house is hardly a hovel,” I said, realizing she was in the mood to play the beat-around-the-bush game.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?”

“Yes, of course. A soft drink?”

“God, no. I need a
real
drink.”

“Should I call the butler? Or better still, we can go downstairs.”

“No. God, no. Let’s just keep it us, shall we, and stay right here.”

I stood up and made my way to the bar. I turned around. “What would you like, then?”

She shuffled on the edge of the armchair and I saw a flash of her panties. Bare legs, apart from killer-heeled, thigh high, black leather boots. Probably Gucci. She loved Gucci. A mini skirt. She had modeled pantyhose once—her legs didn’t seem to end.

“Something expensive,” she said.

“What?”

“I don’t know, you choose. A bottle of chilled Cristal? A vintage Bordeaux? Nothing too plebian. Something I don’t drink at home.”

“Laura, you and James have the best-stocked drinks’ cabinet in London!”

“Surprise me.
Impress
me.”

I had forgotten that about Laura. She was high-maintenance. I’d been constantly scrambling about to please her when we dated. Wanted to make her proud of me. Tried to treat her like the queen she felt she was. But that was when I was twenty. I had grown up a bit since then.

“I have no idea what will impress you, Laura.”

“What about a Bloody Mary, how about that?”

“Okay,” I agreed. “Good idea.” It did seem a fitting drink for her, but in that moment I didn’t know why. “Living in New York has trained my taste buds,” I said. “They know how to make a kickass Bloody Mary there. Lots of horseradish sauce and the right amount of spice.”

“Kickass? Ugh, you’re picking up some really tacky American expressions, Alex.” And then she mumbled, “Must be that….that…” She didn’t finish her sentence, just sneered, and then continued, “Actually, let
me
make the Bloody Marys. I bet I can outdo those New York bartenders.”

“I bet you can’t, but be my guest, give it a go—I need to make some calls.”

I went out onto the balcony and took in the views over Mayfair, wondering how I could get this too-cozy-for-comfort rendezvous over with as quickly as possible. I didn’t often drink midday but what the hell, I thought. Maybe Laura had started self-medicating with booze because of the physical pain she was in, so no harm in joining her—my important meetings for the day were safely out of the way.

I called various work contacts. Then, as I was chatting to someone in Rome about a share in a boutique hotel I had there, Laura came out and handed me my Bloody Mary.

“Here we go,” she whispered. “Don’t want to interrupt your call. Don’t mind me, I’ll entertain myself with a magazine or something, while you take care of business.”

I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she moved off toward the dining room, aided by her cane. The place was vast: a dining room with seating for ten, two bedrooms, two bathrooms and a large living room. Fresh flowers in bespoke vases, oil paintings adorning the walls, strategically placed at eye level. Creams and pale blues and, oh, so very Laura—I knew she’d be impressed and would want to nose about. That’s why she’d insisted on coming up and not meeting me in the lobby, I thought. I sipped my Bloody Mary. Actually, it was very good; she’d gotten the recipe right, after all.

I called Sophie.

“Did you deal with Indira?” I asked her when she picked up.

“She’s full of shit—she was just winding you up, Alexandre. Of course she hasn’t forged your signature.”

“I thought as much. Did she admit that?”

“In so many words. I’m having tea with her today at The Ritz, just to smooth things over. Want to join us? We could pass by and pick you up.”

“No, don’t. Please,
you
deal with her, Sophie. I don’t want hoards of angry relatives hunting me down. Right now, I have other issues which I need to sort out. I’ll be back in New York tomorrow. I’ll call you then.”

I could have sworn I heard water running. I made my way to where the sound was coming from, and lo and behold, Laura was running a bath. Worse, she was
in
the bath. Nude. There, in the pristine, all-white bathroom was an oval tub, smack bang in the middle of the room. Laura was lying right in it, coated in frothy bubbles, splashing about.

“Jesus, Laura, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Ssh, Alex, don’t shout. I thought I’d have a little soak, that’s all. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

I don’t wear knickers.
I turned around, my back to her;
this
view of London, Laura nude, had not been on my agenda. “Laura, you’re not even meant to be up here; we were meant to meet
downstairs.
Fine, pop by to say hello, but you can’t just fucking
move
in on me!”

“Alex, I’m in pain! Why do I have to keep reminding you of this? Have you any idea what it’s like…your muscles aching and pinching and throbbing all the time? I just need a hot soak to make me feel better. Will you be an angel and fetch me my Bloody Mary? I left it in the living room by mistake.”

“Laura,
please
.”

“Bring me my drink, Alex, and stop being such a bore. Oh yes, and a magazine. I forgot that, too.
Vogue
or
Interiors
. Nothing tacky.”

“Laura, please. I’m engaged to be married!
You’re
married. Fine, we can still be friends, but you
in the bath at my hotel?
This is going beyond the boundaries of friendship—this is
too fucking much!”

“Alex darling, please stop being such a pleb. Just bring me my drink and magazine, I’ll have a nice quiet soak and then I’ll leave. Or better still:
join
me. This bath is big enough for two.”

She was incorrigible but I knew that the only way to get her out of that bathtub would be to physically manhandle her, which I wasn’t about to do. “Ten minutes,” I warned. “Then it’s time for you to leave. You said you had something important to discuss but that was obviously a ruse to hang out with me. I can’t just
hang out
anymore, Laura. Not like this. Pearl and I are getting
married
.”

“Yeah right. Winter’s a long way away.”

I turned around in surprise. She was sitting up, erect, with her chest out, her breasts little and pert—she was fluttering her eyelashes at me, and smiling.

“How do you know that?” I demanded, turning my back on her again. I don’t know why I even bothered—I’d seen it all before.

“Oh you know, Elodie and I chat every so often. I call her for news once in a while.”

In-fucking-corrigible
. I drained my Bloody Mary—the kick of alcohol felt good—I needed it to ease my irritation. “Ten minutes, Laura. I’m not bringing you your drink and any magazines because making things more comfortable for you here is
not
my intention.”

“Alex, you
will
come around, darling, believe me. Because I have a little surprise for you.”

I narrowed my eyes with suspicion. “Like what?”

“Ooh, that would be telling.”

“I’ve got work to do. I’m going next door. Ten. Minutes. Only. Then I’m sending you home in a cab.”

I left the bathroom, wondering how I’d forgotten about Laura’s manipulative ways. Still, it was nothing I couldn’t handle….

Or so I thought.

The next thing I knew, I’d fallen asleep on the sofa. I tried to shift myself but felt all floppy. I realized my arms were above my head, tied together with some sort of wire cable. In fact,
all
of me felt buzzy and floppy, except the one part of my anatomy which mattered most. When I finally focused, I saw Laura on top of me, pinning me down like a vice—her nude body straddling me, her long knees digging into the sofa either side of my hips. A scar ran down her left thigh where they’d operated on her after her accident. My eyes flicked down. The buttons of my jeans were open, my shirt, open. Fuck! My dick was mysteriously rock-hard and she was about to ease herself on top of me.

Laura, what the fuck are you doing?
I thought I said the words, but all that came from my lips was a sort of incoherent groan.

She pushed back my head as I attempted to get up. “Ssh, Alex, just relax. All you have to do is lie there, darling, I’ll do the work.”

Madonna’s
Frozen
was playing, ringing in my ears. How apt, considering every cell in my body felt numb. Laura’s long blonde hair was flopping over me, her lips centimeters away from mine.

“Hmm, I’d forgotten how good you smell,” she purred.

She had my cock firmly in one hand and was guiding it towards her pussy like a rocket aimed for liftoff.

Any second now, that rocket was about to be launched.

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If you have haven’t already read
The Pearl Trilogy
that proceeds this book and are curious to read Pearl’s side of the story, click here:
Amazon US
or
Amazon UK
.

I have also written
Glass
, a short story.

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Playlist for Pearl