It’s past nine at night, and I’m wiped out by overflowing emotion, but my vengeful mind won’t allow me to sleep. I’m being spurred on, encouraged by resentment to stick the knife in and twist it continuously. Four missed calls from William haven’t helped my state of mind. If anything, it’s only encouraged me. I know without question that I’m about to prove him right once and for all. I’m my mother’s daughter.
I no longer have my Ice membership card, but it won’t stop me. Nothing will stop me. Bypassing the short queue, I present myself to the doorman, who performs a sigh of exasperation before granting me access without a word. I strut past him and head straight for one of the bars, taking in my surroundings, the music, the happy atmosphere. The music tonight seems dark, and playing right now is Faithless’s ‘Insomnia’. It’s purposeful. It’s apt.
‘Champagne,’ I order, resting my arse against the bar and gazing around at the blue glow engulfing Miller’s club. It’s rammed full of London’s elite, the usual masses of well-dressed revellers filling every available space, but despite the amount of people closing me in from every direction, I know the security cameras will be focused on me and me alone. Miller will have given Tony the heads-up, and I’ve no doubt the doorman has already advised Tony of my arrival.
‘Miss?’
I turn and accept the glass of champagne, ignoring the strawberry and downing it. Then I immediately demand another. I’m handed a fresh glass and, as I turn, I spot Tony striding across the dance floor in my direction. He looks fuming mad, and knowing what’s about to transpire, I disappear amid the sea of people, taking off towards the roof terrace.
As I make my way up the frosted glass steps, I glance over my shoulder and smile when I see Tony standing where I’ve just fled, looking around in confusion. He leans over the bar and speaks to the barman, who quickly shrugs before tending to a waiting customer. I see Tony bash his fist on the glass counter of the bar and swing around, scanning the club. Smug, I continue on my way until I round the corner and break the threshold of the giant glass wall, finding myself among a sea of people laughing, drinking and chatting, none of them taking a bit of notice of the stunning outlook.
I take a sip of my champagne and wait, and I don’t have to wait for long. I catch the eye of a guy across the terrace and smile coyly before slowly turning away from him to enjoy the view.
‘Alone?’
I leisurely pivot on my heels, coming face to face with him. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a white shirt. My eyes drag the entire length of his body until I’m at his face. It’s a handsome face – clean-shaven and fresh, and his short brown hair is longer on top, combed to the side.
‘You?’ I ask, relaxing in my pose and taking my glass to my lips.
He smiles a little and directs me to the edge of the terrace, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. There are no internal sparks ricocheting around my body from his touch, but he’s a man and that’s all I need.
‘Danny.’ He leans down and pecks each of my cheeks. ‘You are?’
‘Livy.’ I glance up to the camera and smile as he takes his time introducing himself.
‘Pleasure to meet you, Livy,’ he says as he pulls away. ‘I love your dress.’
I’ve no doubt he loves it. It’s tight and short. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ His eyes sparkle.
We spend a short while chatting and I reciprocate when he smiles and laughs, finding it easy, but not because I’m attracted to him. It’s because I know cameras are focused on me from every direction, recording everything and saving it for Miller’s eyes once he’s returned from Paris.
‘Is there a protocol you like to follow?’
I struggle to prevent my brow from furrowing in confusion. ‘You mean whether I’d like you to take me for dinner or just take me to bed?’
He smirks. ‘I’m happy to do both.’
My confidence wavers momentarily, but I quickly rein it in. ‘We’ll call the strawberry dinner.’ I tip my flute and catch the fruit, making a point of chewing it slowly and swallowing even slower.
He follows suit and mimics my actions with a knowing smile. ‘It’s a stunning view.’ He tips his empty glass towards the open space beyond, and I follow his indication to look.
‘I agree,’ I muse, ‘but I can think of far better ways to spend the rest of the evening.’ My boldness should stun me, but it doesn’t. I’m on a mission – a dangerous mission. Miller isn’t the only one with a mask. This is too easy.