Playing with the lime in my drink, I suddenly caught sight of a dark-haired man. He was dressed in an impeccable suit and wore black-rimmed glasses. My pounding heart lodged in my throat. I focused harder, trying to make him out, but on closer inspection it wasn’t him.
I took a steadying breath and willed myself to calm down. The man sat down beside a woman in a long red dress, kissing her on the cheek and holding her hand.
I rarely gave myself the luxury of thinking of Arthur. Ever since he walked out of my life thirteen months ago, I hadn’t once seen him. Hadn’t received one single text.
But that didn’t mean I hadn’t heard of him. Everyone in London and beyond knew of Arthur now. In the thirteen months since he had taken the helm of the Adley firm, he had caused what could only be described as havoc in the criminal underworld.
Murderer. The Bethnal Green Brute. The Devil himself. Or, as he was more widely known, the Dark Lord of London Town—some catchy headline with which one of the trashy tabloids had branded him.
It had stuck.
I remembered the cold, emotionless eyes that had said goodbye to me in Oxford a year ago. How, in the hours he had slept in my arms, he had morphed from a man with darkness in his soul into what was rumoured to be evil incarnate. He had awoken in my flat in Oxford as the infamous cold-blooded gangster he was now known to be. He ruled our city with an iron fist. He left a trail of misery and bodies in his wake. But the police could never catch him. Arthur was untouchable. He was feared.
And, despite it all, my stupid self was still madly in love with him.
“Cheska!” I shook my head as I was pulled out of my reverie by a familiar voice laughing at my daze. I dragged my attention from the man in the suit and looked up to see Ollie Lawson standing at our table, dressed in a light-grey suit. He was smiling, the same wide smile he’d always had for me. “You alright, love? You were away with the fairies just now.”
“Sorry,” I laughed and stood to kiss him on the cheeks. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while. Not since Freya’s dinner party a few months back.”
He gently squeezed my arms. “I’m good. You?” he asked, and I sat back down. Ollie was always over-affectionate toward me. But he was sweet and harmless. That strange act of aggression from him in Marbella years ago was now a distant memory.
“I am, thank you.” I gestured to my father and Hugo. “Just catching up with my boys for lunch.” Hugo was shifting strangely in his chair, casting annoyed eyes to Ollie. My father smiled at him, but I could see a strange apprehension at his presence. There was no love lost between Hugo and Ollie. There never had been. Ollie was in business with his father now too. Import and export.
From what I could gather from people in our social circles, the department Ollie ran was doing incredibly well, even better than his father’s. He certainly dressed the part, and he had a brand-new home in the most expensive apartments in Knightsbridge to show for it. Maybe my father didn’t like him because Hugo didn’t. My father and fiancé were thick as thieves, so that would make sense. That, or because Ollie was incredibly successful. Nothing pissed off the rich in our circles more than someone else besting them when it came to wealth.
“I heard you’re getting hitched in a few weeks?” He nodded at my engagement ring.
“Yes.”
“Well, congratulations.” Ollie held up his hand to the waitress. “Their lunch is on me. And send over a bottle of your most expensive champagne.”
“Ollie, no—”
“I insist,” he said, leaning down and kissing the back of my hand.
“Really, you don’t have to,” Hugo said, smiling, though I could tell by his gritted teeth he felt undermined.
“My treat. Count it as an early wedding present,” Ollie said.
“Then thank you,” I said, to try and defuse the awkward tension rolling off my father and fiancé.
“No trouble.” Ollie smiled widely and winked at me. “I was hoping I’d maybe be able to steal your heart one day, but this one got to you first,” he said, pointing at Hugo. “A chance missed.” Hugo practically glared at him. “Anyway,” Ollie said, looking over his shoulder and waving at two men who had just entered the café. “Business awaits. Enjoy your meal, and congratulations again.” He walked away, and I exhaled in relief.
“I fucking hate that guy,” Hugo said as the waitress arrived with the champagne.
“New money,” my father said. “No class.” I rolled my eyes at the two of them acting like pompous arses and thought of Arthur again. For once he had something in common with my father and Hugo. He’d seemed to hate Ollie too.
“Anyway, I was talking about the China contract when we were rudely interrupted by that one,” my father said to Hugo, recommencing their conversation.
So, I ate my food and kept quiet. Just as I was expected to do.
“At least you haven’t got me a flashing cock necklace to wear,” I said to Arabella as she sat on the sprawling super-king bed in my room.
“All in good time, sweetie.” She waggled her brows and laughed, pouring me another glass of champagne. Freya and Arabella had brought me to a fancy spa in Knightsbridge. Tomorrow more friends would join us for a night on the town.
“We can relax and get sozzled tonight on this stuff, then tomorrow live it up at the Sparrow Room. I’ve booked us a table—the full works.”
The room shimmered as she said where we’d be going tomorrow. Arabella and Freya were already staring at me when I glanced up, clearly awaiting my reaction. “The Sparrow Room,” I said, my throat suddenly dry. I downed the rest of my glass, then quickly refilled it. Arabella laughed at my obviously shocked expression.
“You should see your face!” She nudged Freya. “I know you used to have an obsession with the owner, but that was a long time ago.”
“Plus,” Freya said, acting nonchalant, “who doesn’t want to party in the club belonging to the world’s most deadly gangster?” She stood on the bed and dramatically spread her arms. “The notorious Dark Lord of London Town!”
Arabella laughed at Frey and pulled her back down to the bed. But I couldn’t breathe. I was pretty sure I was having a heart attack. I couldn’t go to that club. There was a reason I had never been there or to the three other clubs he owned across London.
The Adley firm no longer kept their business to East London. They had spread out. Like a cancer, I once heard my father snipe at the news. They now owned all of London—the north, south, east and west. Their biggest and most successful club was here in Knightsbridge. I got chills every time I passed the Sparrow Room in a taxi, wondering if Arthur was ever in there. I’d heard he was, often. All the more reason for me to keep away.
I knew it was an epic club; enough of our acquaintances raved about it for me to gather that. But what no one knew, or even suspected, was the five-year-long affair I had had with Arthur.
“We have your outfit all picked out for tomorrow, and”—Freya jumped off the bed—“for dinner tonight.” She held up a purple silk Fendi maxi dress and a pair of low-heeled Jimmy Choos. She came over and shooed me from the bed. “A dinner that is booked for twenty-five minutes’ time. So hurry!” I grabbed the dress and shoes and went into the bathroom.