The Chocolate Lovers' Club (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

A
utumn stroked her brother’s hand. He still lay in his hospital bed, bruised and unmoving. An array of machines beeped comfortingly around him, monitoring him and miraculously performing functions that Richard couldn’t while he was unconscious. She’d slept on a foldout bed next to him or, more accurately, she’d stayed awake all night staring at her brother and hoping for some signs of recovery.

Richard had got himself into plenty of scrapes before, but there’d never been anything as bad as this. If only he could speak to her and tell her what had happened. Was this simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or was it something more sinister? Had someone come after Rich because of the way he was living his life? All she could do was sit here and will her brother to wake up.

Autumn had called her parents, but they were both away on business. Daddy in Geneva, Mummy talking at a Human Rights conference in New York. They’d been shocked to hear that Richard was in hospital, but not shocked enough to jump on a plane and rush back to their son’s bedside. It was typical of them – they were long on cash and short
on compassion. If they could throw money at it, they were the most generous of people. When it came to giving their own children their precious time, then they were positively miserly. It had been the same throughout their lives, so why should she hold out any hope that they would change now? She looked at her brother’s washed-out face and it sent a physical pain to her heart. If her parents could see how bad Richard was, surely they wouldn’t be able to stay away?

It was lunchtime when Addison appeared at her side. She’d been given compassionate leave from her job at the Stolford Centre while her brother remained in this condition, but it pained her to think that she wouldn’t be there to minister to Fraser and Tasmin and her other students. But she couldn’t worry about them now. Richard had to have her full attention.

Her boyfriend slipped into the seat next to her and kissed her cheek. ‘How’s it going?’

‘No change,’ she told him wearily. ‘The doctors have said that he’s comfortable and that’s the best we can hope for at the moment.’

‘Why don’t you go home for a couple of hours?’ Addison suggested. ‘You look wiped out. Have a nice hot bath and grab a bit of shut-eye. There’s nothing you can do for Richard now.’

‘I have to be here when he wakes up,’ she said.

‘They’ll call you from the hospital as soon as there’s any news,’ Addison reassured her. ‘He’s being well looked after, I’m sure. I’m worried that you’re going to make yourself ill.’

‘I can’t forgive myself for not answering the phone when he was trying to call me,’ she said, anguished. ‘That’s the
only time I’ve not been there for him and look what’s happened.’ She couldn’t get a picture out of her mind of Rich lying in a dirty back alley trying desperately to call her. And she’d ignored the call and had put her own pleasure first. What sort of a sister did that?

‘Do you blame me for that?’

She let out a miserable sigh and rubbed her hands over her tired eyes. ‘I feel my loyalties are divided at the moment,’ she said. ‘And right now, Richard needs me more than you do.’

‘You can’t be your brother’s keeper all the time,’ he pointed out. ‘You’re entitled to a life of your own, Autumn.’

‘Not now,’ she said. ‘Richard needs me to be here for him, and nothing will take me away from him.’

She saw Addison’s shoulders sag with disappointment. It was easy for him to say that she should put herself before her brother, but it had never been that way and it probably never would be. All of her relationships had foundered when her partner had realised that there would always be two men in her life. Addison too would have to accept that and, if he couldn’t, well . . . ‘Maybe we should cool things for the time being.’

‘I want to be here for you,’ her boyfriend said. ‘If you’ll let me.’

‘I can’t think of anything but Richard at the moment. He has to be my priority.’

Addison stood up and squeezed her shoulder. ‘I’ll call you later,’ he said sadly. ‘See how he is.’

But she wondered, as he walked away, just how long Addison would stay around.

Chapter Thirty-Six

E
very time that Crush organises a team-bonding exercise, it involves hideous clothing. For paintballing I’m wearing camouflage combats and a matching jacket that comes down to my knees. I look like a small dirigible balloon that’s crashed into a forest. My hands are encased in huge gauntlets which are playing havoc with my nice new manicure and I’m sporting a full face helmet which has flattened my hair to infinity and beyond. I spent hours doing my hair and make-up and not because I wanted Aiden Holby to think that I looked utterly gorgeous, nothing like that. I just like to make an effort in all situations. All to no avail.

I’m not a happy camper. It’s only the fact that I’m clinging onto my job at Targa by my fingertips that I’m here at all. Despite the best efforts of my agency – believe that if you will – no other offers of employment have been forthcoming. With all the expense of my forthcoming wedding, there’s no way that I can jack it in. So paint-balling I am.

Aiden Holby comes along the line to inspect his troops. The Sales Department always take these things very seri
ously and some of them have brought their own props so they look like mini-Rambos. Bandanas are much in evidence. God help us. We’re up against teams from Human Resources and IT. Not that I’m entering into the spirit of this, but frankly I think we’re going to whop their sorry asses. They look like a bunch of lily-livered lightweights.

Crush stands in front of me and I hate to say this, but he looks a little bit fab in his Army get up, all rufty-tufty and macho. What is it about men in uniforms? My knees have come over all unnecessary.

He raises my face mask. ‘Camouflage paint,’ he says crisply. And then, with more enthusiasm than is appropriate, he slaps some brown gloop that looks like mud all over my cheeks. So much for my air-brushed effect foundation. I don’t so much look camouflaged but more as if I’m an escapee from
The Black and White Minstrel Show
.

‘Is this strictly necessary?’

‘I want my team to have the best chance,’ he says in the manner of a Sergeant Major or crack SAS person. ‘We’re going to be the Alpha Males,’ he announces to everyone. There is much cheering and hollering.

‘But I’m a girl.’

‘The token one,’ he says dismissively. ‘Our first mission is to capture the flag of Team Zero Bravo while defending our own.’

‘Is that Human Resources?’

‘Yes,’ he sighs, as if I don’t get this. Which I don’t. ‘You can stay with me, Lombard.’

Lombard?

‘The rest of the team will be deployed on the offensive while we maintain our defence strategy.’

He’s going to get right on my nerves if he goes on like this all day.

‘Ammo,’ he says, and hands me a hopper of paintballs which I cack-handedly clip onto my gun. Crush slams down my face mask and I can hear myself breathing heavily.

News of my forthcoming wedding has done the rounds of gossip at the office, so it must have reached Aiden’s ears, but he’s said nothing to me. He puts work on my desk at regular intervals, but we’re engaging in absolutely no social intercourse at all. I wish he’d shout at me rather than ignore me completely.

There’s a bit of a pep-talk from the team leaders stressing fair play and may the best man win, etc. This being Targa we’ll be lucky if one of us doesn’t lose a limb. And then we’re off. It’s not raining, but it feels as if it should be.

‘Come with me, Lombard.’ I long for the days when Crush used to call me Gorgeous even though it annoyed me at the time. Aiden stomps off ahead of me and I follow him meekly into the woods.

The first paintball shot in anger hits me squarely in the thigh. ‘Fucking ouch!’ I shout back at my unseen assailant.

Crush grabs my arm and pulls me down on the ground next to him. ‘Shut up,’ he instructs. ‘You’ll give our position away.’

‘I’ve already been shot. Doesn’t that mean I’m out of the game?’

‘We’re giving the girls three shots before they’re out,’ he mutters. ‘It sort of evens things out.’

‘Great.’ One shot would have suited me fine. I’m going to have a whopping bruise there tomorrow. It’ll be the size of a dinner plate, at least.

‘We’ll crawl on our bellies through the undergrowth,’ he says.

‘I think not.’

Aiden fixes me with a cold stare. ‘I thought you were a team player,’ he snaps.

I give a big huff which Crush ignores.

My boss holds out his gun in a menacing way. ‘Let’s see if we can infiltrate their camp.’

‘I thought we were the defence?’

‘We’re a sort of offensive defence,’ Crush explains with a shifty look on his face, and then he sets off on his elbows and knees through the ferns and foliage.

I huff again, this time wearily, and trail after him. Dampness seeps through into my knees. I’m already up to my eyeballs in mud. My gun is really heavy and I’m doing a kind of horizontal limp. This is not my idea of fun.

Crush puts his hand on my arm to still me, then he shuffles back until our faces are level – inches apart, in fact. My heartbeat goes into overdrive. ‘They’ve put sentries on the bridge,’ he whispers. ‘We need to storm it. I can see no other way round.’

‘Storm the bridge!’ It comes out a decibel or two higher than is preferable in a war situation. I feel as if I’m in the middle of
Apocalypse Now
.

‘Hush!’ He claps his hand over my mouth and I feel my eyes widen in surprise.

‘I’ll lead the charge,’ he says. ‘You stay tucked behind me, covering my back.’

‘Right.’ I have no idea what he’s talking about. But suddenly we’re off. Crush runs towards a small wooden bridge across a meandering stream. I puff and pant behind him.

We catch Team Zero Bravo – or the Human Resources Department as I refer to them in real life – on the hop. Crush shoots down two of their men and I keep up a volley of shots to intimidate anyone else who thinks they might like to mess with us. I make a couple of kills of my own – which feels scarily satisfying. We rush across the bridge, scattering our feeble foes, and then dive into the undergrowth where we lie breathing heavily.

‘That was brilliant!’ I say. ‘This gun seriously kicks butt.’

‘It’s a replica AK-47,’ Crush tells me in the way that only boys can. ‘Puts out fifteen rounds per second.’

‘Wow.’ I assume that’s a good thing. And when I see Helen the Harridan from Human Resources sneak up to the bridge, I think that it’s time to try it out again. When her back is turned, I fire multiple rounds at her prissy little arse.
That’s for not telling me that Crush was lost in the Outback, bitch
. Each one hits its intended target and Helen the Harridan clutches her bottom as she falls to the ground, combats covered in a slick of yellow paint that tells me she’s out of the game.

‘Great shot,’ Crush congratulates me.

‘I owed her one,’ I say seriously. I look at this man and
think what might have happened if only his messages had been passed on to me as they should have been. I would never have slept with Marcus. I wouldn’t be getting married to him now.

But before I can ponder further on my predicament, I see a swarm of Team Zero Bravo members coming towards us. Crush pulls me down and we roll together into deeper undergrowth. When we stop, Crush just happens to have rolled on top of me. The feet of the other team tramp by us. I’m sure they must be able to hear our breathing. Mine is certainly louder than it should be. Crush pushes his body against mine, heads together, but I daren’t move. Actually, it’s starting to feel rather too good. I’m sure that everyone in the whole bloody forest can hear me gulp.

‘They’re gone,’ Crush says, but he makes no attempt to get up. He lifts himself on one elbow and smiles at me as he flicks up my face visor. ‘Enjoying yourself?’

‘I can see the attraction and psychological benefits of mock warfare.’

‘I didn’t mean that, Gorgeous,’ he says.

Oh, my goodness, I’m Gorgeous again! I wriggle beneath him, but that only makes things worse – or better, depending on your viewpoint. It’s suddenly gone very warm in this forest. One of his arms is pinning both of mine to the ground. It’s very sexy in a submissive sort of way. Oh dear.

‘Why is it that I always have so much fun with you, Lucy Lombard?’ He sighs and his eyes lock onto mine.

‘I don’t know,’ I say nervously. ‘I’m a fun kind of person.’

Then he kisses me, long and hard. And it feels so good. So bloody good. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind if he ripped off
my camouflage combats and had me here and now in the dirt on the forest floor. I’m getting very hot and bothered. It must be all the adrenaline pumping round my body. Then I remember that I’m an engaged person. I shouldn’t be kissing Crush on the forest floor – or anywhere else for that matter. I’m due to be married to Marcus any time now!

Before I can say anything, Crush breaks off from his sexy, tender assault. I can hardly get my breath.

‘Can’t stay here kissing you, Gorgeous,’ he says, and pulls me to my feet, even though I’m still dazed and reeling. ‘Much as I’d like to. We’ve got a war to win.’

He drags me after him, deeper into the woods. We might have a war to win, but somehow I think I might be losing the battle.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

W
e blow our poxy opponents into the weeds. The Human Resources Department and IT have been decimated. Helen the Harridan is looking particularly cowed. I hope her backside is black and blue, bitch. If I’m lucky there might even be a really painful welt there. The Alpha Males, myself included, are victorious. This is in no small part due to the fact that I am a natural born killer. I blame it on the diet of
Terminator
and
Matrix
movies that Marcus always forced me to watch. Clearly, something has rubbed off.

I’ve got a fair amount of enormous bruises myself, some of which are forming unsightly lumps – but I’m high on adrenaline and oblivious to my aches and pains. The team has celebrated on cheap champagne and now we’re feeling heady with success and an excess of booze. We’re chilling out on the edge of the woods and someone’s set up a barbecue, so we’re all feasting on botulism burgers. The rest of the team are singing bonding songs with obscene lyrics and doing the accompanying gesticulations, when Crush makes his way over and throws his arms round me. He’s swaying as if he’s on a boat in a force nine gale.