Promises After Dark (After Dark Book 3) (26 page)

It’s Anna! Oh my God, what is she doing here?

I watch her sashay up to the doorman and I hear her distinctive low voice with its rolling Russian accent. ‘I’m here for the Barclay party.’

The doorman says, ‘Second floor, ma’am.’

Anna stalks inside, her hips swinging as she goes up the steps.

I stare after her, hardly able to believe my eyes. I haven’t seen her since the day in Albany when she invited me to join her and Andrei in bed. Not long after that he sacked her, because, he said, she was in the habit of slipping him various drugs.

I don’t know what impulse makes me do it, but the next moment I’m walking across the road towards the club, an imperious look on my face. I’m glad that I’m wearing my best heels as I stride over, pausing long enough by the doorman to say, ‘The Barclay party?’

‘Second floor, ma’am,’ he says with a nod, and I walk past him and up the steps.

Inside I see that I haven’t cleared the hurdle quite yet: there’s a reception desk where names are being ticked off a guest list.

Oh God, this is it. Humiliation.

I begin to walk towards the desk, wondering what I’m going to say, when there’s a sudden commotion behind me. I turn to see a familiar face coming through the door accompanied by a crowd of people pressing close to her. For a second I wonder if it’s a friend of mine before I realise that the reason the sculpted features and long blonde hair are so familiar is because they belong to a very famous Oscar-winning actress.

Immediately all the attention turns to the new arrival, excitement rippling around the room. I take advantage of the diversion and turn quietly for the stairs, stopping to hand in my coat to the cloakroom attendant whose mouth is hanging open as she stares at the big star just a few feet away. The next moment I’m climbing the grand staircase on my way to the Barclay party.

To my relief there’s no one taking names on the door, just a couple of waiters standing with trays of drinks for the arrivals. I pick up a glass of champagne as I pass by and walk into the room. Clutching my drink and looking into the middle distance, I manage to make my way through the crowd without being challenged and soon I start to relax as I realise that most people are concentrating only on the group they are with and no one is that interested in confronting me. I try to spot Anna without attracting any attention.

Why am I here? What will I say to her when I find her?

I’m beginning to regret this crazy impulse, and I’m about to put my drink down and leave when I see her. She’s in a corner talking animatedly to two men in suits who seem completely entranced by her – but that’s no surprise considering her vivacity and that feline beauty. I watch, trying not to stare too openly, and see her pull a phone out of her clutch bag and check it. The next moment she makes her excuses to the men she is talking to and heads out of the room via another door at the back. I put my glass down on a table and follow her, threading my way through the crowd until I reach the door. I step through it and discover myself in a quiet reading room, and look around just in time to see Anna disappearing out at the other end. I hurry after her and emerge from the reading room into  a carpeted corridor, where Anna is standing with her back to me, talking into her telephone.

‘Yes,’ she is saying, ‘I’m at the Dover Street Club. You know the one – I’m at the Barclay party. Yes, I will see you, I’ve already agreed to that. Whether I’ll tell you what you want to know, that’s another matter altogether. All right. I’ll meet you in the top-floor bar in twenty minutes.’

As she ends her call, I slip back into the reading room and run lightly back to the party. I find a spot by the window and watch her re-enter the room and go back to the men in the corner.

So now I know that she’s meeting someone here. I don’t have a clue who that might be – so why do I feel so afraid?

I already know that I’m going to be in the top-floor bar when Anna has her rendezvous so I go and wait in the ladies where I can be out of sight until the time comes.

I check my phone. There’s a text from Laura.

Where are you? Have you gone home?

I text back:

No, went out for a walk. Sorry, should have said. Are you all right?

Her reply comes back quickly:

In a taxi with Tom. He’s taking me home. He lives in East London.

I smile. So they’ve definitely found a spark then. Maybe it’s better that I’m not there to cramp Laura’s style. I send back a message:

Take care and have fun. I’ll be home later. Not far behind.

Then I check my watch. It’s nearly time for Anna’s meeting in the bar. I emerge from the ladies and head upstairs to the top floor.

I find the bar easily enough and sit down at a low table in a shadowy corner. A waiter comes up and asks for my order, so I ask for a lime and soda.

A few minutes before the time for the meeting is due, I see a man walking across the room towards the bar, where he takes a seat on one of the high stools. My heart sinks and depression floods my body. I suspected all along from the moment I saw Anna that once again she was going to be trouble for me, and I lean back into the darkness so that Dominic won’t see me from where he is, ordering a beer at the bar and waiting for Anna.

She arrives only a moment later, smiling seductively as she walks towards him with the grace and elegance of a model. She sits down on the stool next to Dominic and I can see her face plainly, although I only have a view of Dominic’s back. They are talking with ease and I hear her laugh and the sound of his voice as it floats over to me. I’m seized with a desire to get up and walk over there, demand to know why they are meeting and what they are saying. What reason does Dominic have to see Anna? Her obsession with him has caused a lot of difficulties for us. I feel fury boiling up inside me, a mixture of jealousy and betrayal. Why would he see her without telling me?

Then another voice speaks up, telling me to calm down. Dominic told me he wanted to sort out the mess with Andrei. Surely seeing Anna must be part of that. If I spring out of the shadows now, I could spoil whatever it is Dominic is doing.

Do you trust him?

I remember that I never did find out how Anna knew the secrets of my relationship with Dominic. He utterly denied telling her but he was the only person apart from me who knew the details – and she knew everything from what happened in the dungeon at The Asylum to the marks of the scourge on Dominic’s back. I’ve tried to forget about the confusion I felt and the fact it’s never been resolved but seeing Anna is bringing it all back.

So do you trust him or not?

I look into my heart. I think of everything we’ve been through. I remember Dominic’s eyes gazing down into mine, the pain I’ve seen there, the tenderness, the love. He doesn’t need to pretend any of those things with me. I’ve always believed that he truly feels them. I know he loves me.

I do trust him.

So prove it, I tell myself.

I hear their laughter reach me again. I get up very quietly and without being noticed, I put some money down for my drink and slip out of the room. I walk quickly down the stairs to the cloakroom, get my coat and hurry outside to try my luck hailing a taxi home.

Chapter Fifteen

Laura emerges from her room the next morning looking distinctly the worse for wear. Her eyes are bloodshot and her hair is all over the place.

‘Thank God it’s almost Christmas and hardly anyone is in the office,’ she groans. ‘I won’t be able to do much today. I feel like shit!’

‘Did you have a nice time with Tom?’ I ask a little smugly as I eat my cereal. I don’t have a hangover at all.

She shoots me a look and smiles. ‘Mmm!’

‘He saw you home, did he?’

She laughs. ‘He very kindly saw me right to the door, and inside.’

‘Really.’ I raise my eyebrows meaningfully. ‘And did he stay long? I expect he wanted to make sure you were really, really safe. I mean, tucked up in bed and all cosy.’

‘Not quite in bed,’ she says, ‘but let’s say we did sit for a while on the sofa and . . . talk.’

I laugh. ‘Was it fun?’

‘
Really
good fun.’ Laura looks a lot brighter, despite the hangover.

‘Are you going to see him again?’

‘I think so. I’ll see if he sends me a message today.’ She goes to get a drink of water, pouring out a glassful from the bottle in the fridge. ‘I just hope I can make it through, that’s all.’

‘Last day tomorrow,’ I say. ‘Then we go home on Christmas Eve.’

‘Yep.’ Laura gulps down her water. ‘And I can’t wait.’

On the way to work I send Dominic a message.

Hey

Did you get my message last night? Are you back in town? I really want to see you! I’m going home for Christmas soon. Please tell me where you are. Lots of love, B x x

When I emerge from the Underground at Victoria, my phone starts flashing to indicate a new message. It’s from Dominic.

Sorry for the late reply. Good news, I’m in London. I’ve got things to tell you. Can I see you later? D x

I feel a rush of joy. I did the right thing. I trusted him and he came through. I’m sure he’s going to tell me something to do with Anna. I message back telling him to meet me after work. I can’t wait to see him.

I spend an hour chatting with Mark as he lies on his bed in the conservatory. Although it’s freezing outside, the conservatory is toasty warm, but Mark is wrapped up in several layers of blankets and still can’t seem to shake the chill he feels.

I try to distract him with talk but I’m anxious about the way he seems so weak and frail. It’s hard to imagine him being able to withstand radiotherapy. He looks as though downing an aspirin might be too much.

‘You must go home and have a wonderful Christmas,’ he says to me, his tongue still distorting his words. ‘I’ll be so much better in the new year. We’ll cut our ties with Andrei and get on with acquiring new clients. What do you think of that?’

‘I think it sounds marvellous,’ I exclaim. ‘A fresh start.’

‘Absolutely.’

Caroline comes in with a tray of pill bottles and a glass of water. ‘Time for your medication, darling!’ she says brightly.

I get up. ‘Happy Christmas, Mark.’ I lean over and kiss him.

‘Happy Christmas. Your bonus is on the desk, by the way. Now – have a lovely time with your family and I’ll see you back here in January.’ He manages a smile.

‘Goodbye, dear,’ says Caroline. ‘If I don’t see you, have a lovely time.’

‘Goodbye, and happy Christmas, Caroline.’

I ought to feel festive and merry but I realise I’m wiping away tears as I head into the office. Mark is so ill, it’s hard to imagine that he’ll be any different in the new year. He might never get better. The thought is so awful it makes me gulp, but I fight for control. He needs me to be strong and keep things running. We’ll face whatever happens when it comes.

On the desk in the office is a beautiful pale blue box with a plump white ribbon wrapped around it. This must be the bonus Mark mentioned. I’d assumed he meant some shopping vouchers or some cash but he’s given me an actual gift. How kind of him. I wonder whether to open it and then decide I’ll keep it to open on Christmas Day. Knowing Mark, it’s sure to be a beautiful present, and it will be something special to open.

There’s also a pile of post that includes a lot of Christmas cards addressed to Mark. He’s received dozens already, most from business contacts and clients, from addresses all over the world. Among them I find one addressed to me, with a formal typed label.

How strange, no one’s sent me a card here before! I wonder who it’s from.

I slice open the envelope with Mark’s letter opener and take out the card. It’s a picture of a Russian icon of the Madonna. I open it and a folded piece of paper slips out onto the desk. Inside there’s a printed message that reads:
Happy Christmas and best wishes for the New Year from Andrei Dubrovski.
Beneath that in a scrawling hand written in black ink are the words:

Beth. Your Christmas Gift. Andrei.

I pick up the folded piece of paper and open it up. I read it, frowning as I wonder what it means. For one thing, it’s dated the 2nd January, which is over a week away. It’s titled ‘Press Release from the Office of Andrei Dubrovski, embargoed until 2nd January’. I begin to read.

The Office of Andrei Dubrovski announces its intention to sue art dealer Mark Palliser for malpractice and mishandling of affairs after it has emerged that the well- known art expert wrongly identified a work of art as being by the Florentine Renaissance master, Fra Angelico. Mr Dubrovski paid over two million pounds for the work which was later confirmed as a fake by experts at the Hermitage Museum in St Petersburg. Mr Dubrovski was devastated by the verdict and has taken steps to recover the sum he paid for the painting. There are also questions over Mr Palliser’s handling of Mr Dubrovski’s financial affairs and certain aspects are being investigated with a view to recovering any sums that might be owing.