Читать книгу Riches: Snog, Steal and Burn - Megan Cole - Страница 10

Chapter Five

London, UK Two days later

Jhumpa looked out of her hotel room window. Below, shiny black cabs and big red buses were streaming past like a procession of brightly coloured bugs. This city beat to a different rhythm than the one she’d left behind in India, but it was no less exciting. It was why she’d booked herself into the famous Dorchester hotel, the epitome of English elegance and luxury.

She was meant to go straight to the house in Glandularshire, or wherever it was, but her flight hadn’t landed at Heathrow until midnight. Jhumpa wanted a good night’s sleep, so she was prepared and fresh for whatever lay ahead. She still felt edgy. Someone else was calling the shots and she didn’t like it.

Her suite on the ninth floor had a panoramic view of the city.

Jhumpa cast her eye over the skyline: she could see the London Eye, Houses of Parliament, Big Ben. Even at night it was pretty amazing; just like she’d seen in the movies.

There was a stirring from the bed. The delicious form of Caleb stretched out and turned over under the starched white sheets. Even from here Jhumpa could see the tightly packed bands of muscles across his back. She smiled to herself. Yes, bumping into Caleb had turned out very well indeed.

Jhumpa wasn’t normally into one-night stands. Back home in Mumbai she was always very selective about who she brought back to the apartment. The last thing she wanted was someone doing a kiss-and-tell on her when she was a famous actress and spoiling her public image. But things weren’t normal right now, and when she’d been sitting in the hotel bar nursing a Cosmopolitan and Caleb had come over and offered to buy her another… well, one thing had left to another.

Even if Caleb hadn’t been so hot, Jhumpa would have been pleased to have someone to talk to. She would never have admitted it, but she’d been feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable the moment Caleb had chosen to walk up. Good timing. Funny how a complete stranger could fulfil such a purpose.

Caleb was just her type. Blue-eyed and dirty blonde, he looked like an Abercrombie and Fitch model. Jhumpa liked her American boys and when she’d found out he was an aspiring actor like her, they had lots to talk about. Caleb had already asked her to go and stay with him in Hollywood, said he could introduce her to a few people. Jhumpa would wait and see. Caleb might be pretty, but he could be just another jobbing barman with aspirations of being the next De Niro. No offence, but Jhumpa wasn’t going to waste her time on people who were never going to make it.

Caleb was cute, at least, and was taking her mind off things. As well as the whole drama with her dad, just before she’d left India, Jhumpa found out she hadn’t got the servant girl role in Emerald Summer.

“Too beautiful,” was what the director said, apparently. She’d be a “distraction”. Jhumpa had been devastated but put a brave face on. Everything happened for a reason. She was destined for bigger and better things.

At least she would be, once this whole weird business was sorted out. Jhumpa stared out the window again. Where are you, daddy? She’d lied to everyone about why she was taking a trip - had told no one about the weird note she’d received in the post, telling her to go to Cadwallader house, if she wanted to help her dad.

Time to myself, she’d told Bez and her friends. Get away from everything. Everyone understood, and the police had promised to keep her updated with any developments. Every time the phone went Jhumpa’s stomach dropped like a stone. Thinking this would be the call to say her dad was dead.

‘You OK?’

Caleb was sitting up, hair tousled sexily.

‘Completely.’ She pulled the silk dressing gown tighter and padded across the room. Caleb pulled her down for a kiss. His lips were as soft as clouds. Jhumpa could still feel their traces on her body.

‘Can’t you sleep?’ he asked. Nice accent, lazy Californian.

‘My body clock is all over the place.’

He gave a chuckle. ‘I can think of something we could do.’

Jhumpa smiled as Caleb’s hands started to move over her dressing gown. ‘I need my sleep.’

‘I need you,’ he said.

‘Caleb…’ she smiled warningly. He was really nice. Pity they lived on other sides of the world.

He stopped caressing and looked at her ruefully. ‘OK, I know. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.’

‘You got it.’ Jhumpa hadn’t said much, just that she had an important meeting. She put her arms round his neck, keen to move off the subject.

‘When did you get that tattoo?’ She’d noticed the small dagger behind Caleb’s ear at the bar. It didn’t seem to go with what he was about.

‘Thailand, a couple of years back. You like it?’

‘It’s alright.’ Personally, Jhumpa didn’t know why people wanted to ruin their bodies with tattoos. They were, like, mega tacky. Caleb’s was quite subtle though.

He laughed again. ‘You’re not a tattoo kind of girl, I already guessed that.’ He started planting butterfly kisses on her neck, making her shiver. ‘You’re a real lady, Jhumpa, you know that?’

His mouth felt lovely and Jhumpa’s good intentions fell by the wayside. She was thousands of miles from home, in a city where no one knew her. She needed a release. Seductively, she lowered her dressing gown.

‘I’m not always a lady.’

Caleb’s blue eyes darkened with lust. ‘And I’m not always such a gentleman.’

A hundred miles away in Gloucestershire, Luci Cadwallader hadn’t been able to sleep either. After tossing and turning for hours she’d given up on the idea. Instead she was walking round the north-east corner of the estate, her feet swishing through the long grass. It might be the middle of the night but going for a walk always made Luci feel better.

A pale moon shone down on the English countryside, bathing it in a ghostly glow. Somewhere up ahead in the woods an owl hooted. Most people would be scared to walk here by themselves but it didn’t bother Luci. She knew every blade of grass like the back of her hand.

On the slope, Cadwallader Hall stood in darkness. None of the staff had stirred when she’d slipped out. Luci shoved her hands in her pockets and carried on walking. If she stayed out here long enough the sun would rise. She didn’t want to get back into bed and be alone with her thoughts again.

It had been thirty-three days since she’d left the Orkneys, throwing everything into a suitcase while Jeremy Fitzwilliam waited. They’d flown from Glasgow airport straight to the Indian embassy in London. Everything since then had been a bit of a blur.

Luci still didn’t understand why her dad had been in Kashmir. Sure, the Indian border wasn’t that far from Bhutan, relatively speaking, but wouldn’t her father have mentioned he was going to a different country? They kept in touch as much as they could when he was away: emails, Facebook, Skype. Even though his phone was going straight to voicemail Luci was still leaving messages. Hearing his voice made her somehow feel closer to him.

The embassy had told her what they knew. It wasn’t much. For some reason unknown to everyone, her dad had been in the region and had been kidnapped by Kashmiri rebels. Quite why, they weren’t sure, but the general opinion was that the rebels had thought Luci’s dad was a spy. Luci hadn’t believed it at first. He wasn’t a spy! He was her kind, loving, dashing father who made funny origami out of notepad paper and was obsessed with watching cricket. Viscount Peter Cadwallader was a university professor, a scholar, a country gent. About as far from a spy as you could get.

But as the days had gone by and there was still no word, Luci had started to feel less sure. Her dad had definitely been away a lot more over the last year. Research, he said, and Luci had taken his word for it. Why wouldn’t she? Now, she was starting to question things. Research for what?

Then that letter had turned up, asking her to attend a meeting at her own house. Weird. At the bottom, there was a note telling her to make up two of the spare rooms. Who else was coming? Stevenson, the butler, knew nothing about it, and neither did the family lawyer when she’d phoned him. The whole thing was like an Agatha Christie movie. The more Luci tried to work out it out, the more confused and frustrated she got.

By this time tomorrow, the houseguests would be here. All Luci could do was wait. Sighing, she brushed the head of a passing cow parsley. It was going to seem like the longest day ever.

Suddenly there was a noise in the undergrowth behind her. Like someone had stepped on a twig. Luci stopped and turned round.

‘Hello?’

The woods were dark and silent. From nowhere, Luci felt a prickle down her neck. Someone or something was watching.

‘Who’s there?’ There’d been a few poachers in the area recently. Luci didn’t fancy a run in: they might turn nasty about being caught out. It was a ten-minute walk to the house and too far for anyone to hear her shouts for help.

‘Hello?’ she said again, sounding a lot braver than she felt.

Nothing. Luci frowned. Maybe she’d imagined it. Or maybe it was an animal. Poor thing’s probably more frightened than you are, she told herself.

All the same, she had a sudden urge to get out of there. Luci turned round and started walking back, but an irrational fear gripped her and she started running, faster and faster until she was pelting up the front lawns, hair flying as if the hounds of hell were in hot pursuit. At last she reached the back door and came to a shuddering, gasping halt.

Her heart was hammering so hard it hurt, Luci looked back down to the woods. They were as quiet as the grave, no sign of life. With the safety of home reached, her panic seemed like a total over-reaction.

What’s the matter with you? Luci shook her head. She’d been spending far too much time by herself lately. A cup of cocoa in the kitchen was what she needed right now.

Halfway down the corridor, Luci went back and made sure the door was double-locked again.