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  ‘Ivy.’ That’ll have to do.

  ‘What a lovely name,’ Sebastian says.

  Thankful for the interruption, I turn my attention to the younger brother. Totally relaxed and completely at ease, he’s the polar opposite of his evil, but thoroughly gorgeous sibling.

  ‘Tell me something about yourself, Ivy. What do you do?’

  ‘What do I do?’ Good God. From the expression on Sebastian’s face, I’m pretty sure he’s asking about sexual preferences.

  ‘As in a job?’ he elaborates.

  ‘Oh, that. Yes, a job.’ I’d better be careful. The Devil incarnate’s sitting by my side. I may well be plotting my escape from his father’s dark empire – an informal interview lined up next week with a rival publishing house – but you never know. ‘I’m a teacher,’ I lie.

  ‘What do you teach?’

  ‘Children.’

  ‘Naughty.’ Sebastian waves a finger. ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘Of course.’ So, what do I teach? I plump for the first thing that comes to mind. ‘English...in a secondary school.’

  ‘Which school?’

  Damn it. He suspects I’m lying, and now he’s pushing me until I make a mistake. Which won’t take long. ‘Erm... London.’ But where in London? ‘Neasden. You wouldn’t know it.’ And more to the point, neither would I, seeing as I’ve never been to Neasden in my entire life.

  I’m one question away from being discovered when Sebastian gives up. Apparently satisfied with my shoddy story, he nods and takes a mouthful of wine. ‘We don’t get many teachers round here.’

  ‘I’m sure you don’t. This sort of thing isn’t exactly in a teacher’s income bracket.’

  ‘It’s not in many people’s income bracket.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘So what brings you here? Letting off steam after a hard day at the chalk face?’

  ‘No, no, no, no...’ With a furious shake of the head, I realise I’m going over the top with denials. ‘My friend, Marnie. She was invited by a member. Didn’t want to come on her own. I’m here for moral support.’

  ‘More likely immoral in this place.’ Sebastian laughs. ‘So, you’re both guests. But who are you guests of?’

  There’s no way I can lie about this. After all, Sebastian must know the name of everyone who visits this place. ‘Christophe Dupont.’

  The brothers exchange silent glances.

  ‘You know him?’ I ask.

  ‘We both know him,’ Max intervenes. Beneath hooded lids, his eyes glint in the lamplight, and I sense a flutter down below. ‘Is your friend with Christophe now?’

  ‘Yes. They’re...’ I point back at the open doors. God knows why. ‘You don’t approve?’

  With a grimace, Max Delaney turns away.

  ‘Don’t mind Max,’ Sebastian takes over. ‘He’s a bit of a prude.’

  ‘Is he?’ I don’t know whether it’s down to the wine, or the fact that I’m seriously attracted to an utter shit who seems determined to look down his handsome nose at me, but those hackles are still firmly in the ‘up’ position, and suddenly I’m gripped by an urge to needle the bastard who’s stuck a big fat spanner into my life. ‘So why is he here, then?’

  ‘To visit me. He doesn’t make use of our facilities. Doesn’t know what he’s missing.’

  ‘When you’re in the public eye, you have to be careful,’ Max says.

  ‘And you’re in the public eye?’ I ask with all the innocence I can muster.

  Sebastian puts down his glass. ‘You don’t recognise him, do you?’

  ‘No, should I?’ I watch Max shoot his brother a warning glance.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ Sebastian complains. ‘She’s going to find out sooner or later, especially seeing as she’s here with Christophe.’ He turns to me. ‘DelCorp. Our lovely father owns it, and Max here just about runs it these days. He’s the heir apparent.’

  ‘Oh.’ More feigned innocence.

  ‘So...’ Sebastian pretends to zip his mouth. ‘It’s public knowledge I own this place, but not public knowledge Max visits. Could get sticky with the press.’

  ‘But, doesn’t he own the press?’

  ‘Not all of it.’ Max cuts in, dismissively. ‘Listen, Seb. I can’t stay long.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Things to do.’

  ‘Oh, get your head out of your arse. Live a little.’ He surveys the glasses. ‘Time for another drink. I take it you still don’t want anything, Max.’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  While I ponder over the wisdom of another glass of wine, and think to hell with it, Sebastian gets to his feet.

  ‘I won’t be long, Ivy. Don’t go anywhere...whatever this one says to you.’

  And with that, he disappears inside, leaving me with a man who seems intent on not saying a word to me. And with nothing else to do in the meantime, while Max stares into the shadows and indulges in some grade A brooding, I take the opportunity for another spot of ogling, taking in his broad shoulders and impressive biceps. From the way his jersey falls, I can tell he’s well-built, not overly muscly. And that’s about it. The rest isn’t so easy to decipher. For a moment, I wonder if his torso’s ripped to within an inch of its life or whether he goes for a more subtle look, and then I give up on the guessing game – because it’s going nowhere. Instead, I decide to bother the sex god with a little inane chat.

  ‘I thought you’d gone. Didn’t see a motorbike in the car park.’

  ‘Seb’s garage,’ he murmurs, utterly guarded.

  A couple more minutes drag by in silence. I shuffle about in my seat and sigh, and check my mobile, and sigh again.

  ‘So, you’re here with Dupont?’ he asks at last.

  A shimmer of desire spills through my body – and it’s all down to that bloody husky voice.

  ‘Yes,’ I snap, doing my best to put an end to lust, because desire and Delaney just don’t go together.

  ‘How long have you known him?’

  ‘Not long.’

  ‘How did you meet him?’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  He turns to me. ‘How did you meet him?’ he repeats.

  I have no idea where this line of questioning’s coming from, and even less idea where it’s heading. ‘Like I said, he’s Marnie’s friend. Not mine. I’ve met him a couple of times. I’m here to back her up.’

  ‘Tell your friend to steer clear.’

  ‘Why?’

  He gives no reply.

  ‘Why?’ I push. ‘He seems alright to me.’

  ‘Looks can be deceptive.’

  ‘Can’t they just?’

  Pulling back a little, he frowns. ‘Yes, that was a dig at you,’ I’d like to tell him, but I’m pretty sure he’s already managed to work it out for himself. And anyway, he’s clearly determined to press on with the issue of Christophe Dupont.

  ‘The man’s a shit,’ he says.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Care to explain?’

  ‘No.’

  And that does it. I flip straight into anger mode, and I know exactly why. It’s because I’m in the presence of a heartless, spoiled, stinking rich bastard who’s the proud owner of an over-inflated ego, a super-inflated sense of entitlement, and a distinct surfeit of unwarranted contempt. Powered by the fact that he doesn’t have a clue who I really am – which doesn’t matter anyway, because I’ll soon be out of his orbit – it’s all too tempting. I know enough about this man to understand he’s despicable, and I’m willing to bet he’s not often told that to his face. I might as well give him a few home truths. After all, my name’s Ivy and I’m an English teacher...so I’ve got nothing to lose.

  ‘Well, I suppose it takes one to know one.’

  Immediately, I wish I could suck the words back in, but it’s too late. The alcohol’s taken effect, and I’ve gone too far. Oh well, I tell myself, swigging down another mouthful, what’s done is done. I’ll just have to deal with the consequences. Gathering all my resolve, I f
ix him with a hard stare.

  ‘You’re calling me a shit?’ he demands.

  ‘I certainly am.’

  ‘And you’re basing that on?’

  ‘The fact that you’re downright rude.’

  ‘I’m rude?’

  ‘I’d say so.’

  ‘But you’re the one calling me a shit.’

  ‘It’s a free country.’

  ‘You have no idea what I’m like.’

  ‘I’m a good judge of character.’

  The poker face disappears. But not for long. It’s briefly replaced with a narrow-eyed smile before it slips firmly back into place. ‘A woman who can judge a man simply by looking at him. Interesting.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Finishing off my second glass of wine, I’m desperate for a third.

  ‘So, apart from the fact that I’m a rude shit, what other spurious conclusions have you come to?’ The slightest hint of a sneer touches his lips.

  And I can’t help feeling I’m an annoying fly he’d like to swat. ‘You’re obviously stinking rich,’ I press on. If he’s determined to swat me, I might as well give him a damn good reason for it. ‘That motorbike you’ve stored away in your brother’s garage, I bet it’s top of the range.’

  ‘Correct. A Ducati.’

  ‘Gold-plated?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘I suppose you’ve got an Aston Martin back at home.’

  ‘And a Bentley. And a Jag.’

  ‘I knew it.’

  ‘Oh, I see. You’re a psychic.’ He straightens up in his seat. ‘What does it matter to you how I get from A to B?’

  ‘It doesn’t. It just shows money’s no object to a man like you. It shows you haven’t got the slightest clue how ordinary people live.’

  ‘I’ve never claimed to...’

  ‘And you don’t care,’ I interrupt. ‘Because like every other millionaire on the planet, you’ve got where you are by screwing over the little people, the meaningless people like me.’

  ‘How astute.’ A full-on grimace makes a brief appearance. ‘Just wrong on one count. I’m a billionaire.’

  ‘Even worse.’

  ‘Oh dear, we seem to have a Marxist in the club.’

  Out of nowhere, a waitress arrives. She places two fresh glasses of wine on the table and removes the empties. I wait for her to be out of earshot before I go on.

  ‘I’m no Marxist,’ I growl, ‘but I’m no fan of the greedy super-rich either.’

  ‘This all sounds very personal.’

  ‘It is. My best friend’s being made redundant from a job she loved by a man like you.’ Oh dear, I’m getting too close to the mark. And I’d better make sure Marnie doesn’t lay eyes on Max Delaney. I wouldn’t put it past her to knee him in the groin.

  ‘Another teacher?’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  He leans forward. ‘Let me remind you of something, Ivy. It’s people like me who provide jobs for people like you...and your friend.’

  ‘Oh, that’s why you do it then. I thought it was all down to profit margins.’ I reach for my glass.

  In an instant, he grabs my hand, forces it onto the table and holds it flat.

  ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ I growl.

  ‘I think you’ve had too much.’

  ‘Back off. I’ll do what I like. And don’t you dare touch me again.’

  With a twitch of the lips, he draws back his hand and watches me take a defiant gulp of my drink.

  ‘So,’ he says. ‘I’m rude, rich, greedy and ruthless. Anything else you’d like to add to my list of misdemeanours?’

  I spend a moment searching for the right adjectives. A whole flurry of them arrive all at once. ‘Arrogant. Dismissive. Power-hungry. Controlling.’

  ‘Controlling?’

  ‘I’d lay money on it.’

  His eyes flicker with something, but I have no chance to nail it down because I’m thoroughly distracted by a flutter between my legs. Damn it to hell and back. When you’re in the middle of insulting a man, it’s really no time to come over all horny.

  ‘You’re judging my morality.’ He leans in further, lowering his voice. ‘And yet we’re both guests at a sex club. I’m here to see my brother. What’s your excuse?’

  ‘I’ve already told you. I’m here for my friend.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘I don’t care what you believe.’

  ‘I dare say you don’t. But about an hour ago, out there on the steps, you were totally up for it.’

  He delivers a smouldering gaze that leaves me uncomfortably overheated.

  ‘Up for what?’

  ‘You know exactly what.’ Satisfied, he leans back in his chair. I’m certain he’s about to suggest we get a room when he looks up at something behind me. ‘Seb, you’re back.’

  ‘Sorry about that. Problems in the kitchen. Evie can’t help. In no fit state.’

  With a shrug, Max pulls his mobile from a back pocket and fires off a text.

  ‘Ah, the drinks are here.’ Sebastian settles himself back into his chair. ‘Has my brother been charming you, Ivy?’

  ‘Hardly.’

  ‘Max, I’m disappointed in you.’ He frowns at his brother. ‘I thought you were going to play nice.’

  Mr Delaney slips the mobile back into his pocket and turns away again.

  ‘Don’t take it personally,’ Sebastian goes on. ‘He’s in a grump today. Only made a couple of million. If he doesn’t make at least ten, he sulks.’

  That earns him a scowl from his brother. ‘Fuck off, Cyril.’

  ‘Oh, the C word. Why don’t you fuck off, Peregrine?’

  At this point, the Devil incarnate decides he’s had enough and rises to his feet.

  I swallow an urge to gasp. With over six feet of masculine power looming over me – and in spite of our recent spat – my heart begins to palpitate. Silently, I order it to stop. And naturally, it ignores my command because for no apparent reason, Mr Delaney’s giving me another smouldering look.

  ‘Going?’ Sebastian asks. ‘I thought we were catching up.’

  ‘Another time. I need to get home. I’ll ring you tomorrow, Seb.’

  And that’s that. Without another word, Max Delaney turns on his heels and disappears inside the bar.

  ‘Hope he wasn’t too bad,’ Sebastian offers.

  ‘He was pretty horrid.’ I wince. ‘Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that. He’s your brother.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ Sebastian examines me closely. ‘Like I said, he’s just in a mood. All work and no play makes Jack a bad-tempered boy.’

  ‘I thought it made Jack a dull boy.’

  ‘The Delaneys might be plenty of things, but we’re never dull.’ He glances round. ‘And now, I really should get back to the kitchen. The sous-chef’s pissed as a fart.’ Grabbing his wine, he stands up. ‘All play and no work makes Jack bankrupt. I’ll see you later.’ He gives me a dazzling smile before following his brother’s footsteps.

  And I’m finally left in peace.

  Flipping open the iPad, I spend a good few minutes trying to read but I can barely concentrate, mainly because I can’t get Max Delaney out of my head: the man might be a disagreeable piece of work, but he’s left me feeling unreasonably turned on. I’m on the verge of giving up on the manuscript when I’m touched on the shoulder. I look up to find I’ve been joined by Marnie. Sporting the green satin dress – but now clearly minus a bra – she’s flushed in the face and thoroughly over-excited.

  ‘What are you doing out here?’ I demand. I just want to be left alone with my inner wrestling match: body versus brain, lust versus logic.

  ‘Checking you’re okay.’ She slumps into the chair next to me.

  ‘I am. Now get back to it.’

  ‘Christophe’s just freshening up with a shower. Two orgasms to me. One to him.’

  ‘TMI.’

  ‘He’s got a private room,’ she witters. ‘Handcuffs, blindfolds,
gags, the lot.’

  ‘Marnie, please.’

  ‘I need some Dutch courage before I get more French cock. He’s on about spanking now.’ She grabs my glass and downs the wine.

  And I determine it’s time to fill her in on a couple of possibly salient facts.

  ‘Listen, Marnie. You need to know something. This place is owned by Sebastian Delaney.’

  She stares at me, her face blank.

  ‘Brother of Max Delaney,’ I prompt.

  It takes a few seconds for the name to sink in. ‘Beezlebub?’

  ‘Yes, Beezlebub.’ I swallow hard. ‘I’ve just met him.’

  ‘What? God, no.’ She scours the room. ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘Why are you asking?’

  ‘Because he was fucking gorgeous in those pictures we looked at.’

  ‘And he’s fucking gorgeous in the flesh,’ I admit. ‘But it’s evil flesh, remember.’

  ‘Evil flesh.’ She nods ferociously. Whatever she’s been up to with Christophe – and I don’t really want to think about that – it seems to have thrown her into a state of sexual lunacy. ‘Does he partake?’

  ‘In what?’

  ‘Kinky stuff? Here?’

  ‘Why are you asking?’

  ‘You could have a go.’

  ‘Have a go?’

  ‘Yeah. Use his body, and all that.’

  I can’t deny the idea’s recently flitted in and out of my mind, but it’s still a shock to hear it from Marnie’s mouth.

  ‘Where are your morals?’

  ‘No idea.’ She shrugs. ‘Tell me you wouldn’t.’

  ‘Well...’

  ‘There you go.’

  ‘Okay, he’s attractive,’ I admit. ‘Very attractive. But just remember who we’re talking about here. He’s our boss. And for your information, he doesn’t partake. And anyway, he’s gone home.’

  ‘Did he recognise you?’

  ‘No. But don’t give the game away. If anyone asks, my name’s Ivy and I’m a teacher.’

  She sniggers, and then snorts. Finally, she stares at me in confusion. ‘You’re not a teacher.’

  ‘No. I’m not. But it’s what I told Max and Sebastian. So, if anyone asks, that’s who I am.’

  She rolls her eyes and states the obvious. ‘But Christophe knows your real name, and his friends do, and you signed in...’