‘Hey, Lily.’

I whirl around warily, startled by the use of my name in this place. A man is leaning against the bar, a small smile playing on his lips. My eyes automatically rove over his face and body. God! These Eden men! They are so fucking gorgeous.

I relax, rest my back against the bar and smile up at him. He has beautiful eyes. Impossible to tell what color in these lights, but probably green or blue. ‘Hello, Mr. Eden.’

‘Shane,’ he corrects softly.

I smile mysteriously. Shane is the younger brother of Jake and the owner of the club. But unlike his brother, who is aloof and elusive, Shane is universally liked by everybody. He is everything you could want in a man. Movie star looks, charm, manners, and he is supposed to be genuinely nice too. He’s not just the kind of man you’d be proud to take home to your parents but will also make all your girlfriends green with envy. The kind of man you could so easily say I do to. I have seen him around, but this is the first time he has deigned to talk to me.

‘Wanna to go to a party?’ he asks, a lazy smile playing on his lips. Wow! He really has perfected his technique.

‘Sure. If I’m not working.’

He leans close. ‘You’re not.’

I grin. ‘I do like a resourceful man.’

He laughed. ‘I’ve got a room full of resourceful I’m not using, babe.’

I laugh back. It’s easy with him. ‘Where’s the party at?’

‘My brother’s.’

The DJ is playing ‘Dangerous’ by Sam Martin. I tilt my head up and pout, a disobedient, come-get-me pout. I know I am flirting outrageously with him, but I feel safe. ‘Which brother?’

‘Jake.’

My heart skips a beat. Now that’s definitely not the kind of man you want to introduce your parents to. Or you can flirt with safely. ‘Great,’ I say with a slow smile.

‘Pick you up from your place at seven tomorrow?’

‘OK.’

‘Got anything pretty to wear?’

‘What do you think?’ I say, batting my false eyelashes with exaggerated coquetry. I swear he makes it too easy.

He reaches into his wallet, takes out a thick wad of crisp notes, and puts it on the bar. ‘Buy yourself something stunning.’

I look down at the money, at his strong, long fingers, and then back up at him. He is watching, transfixed. Shit, he really likes me. ‘Thanks,’ I say softly.

‘Right, I’m off to have a shower. A cold shower.’

‘I…umm…am looking forward to tomorrow.’

‘Goodnight, Lily,’ he says, pushing himself off the bar, a smile lighting his eyes, and then he is gone, only his expensive scent remaining.

I watch him leave—the scene is being set—before I pick up the money and stuff it into the red satin bag that comes with my outfit.

* * *

The first thing I think of when I open my eyes the next morning is Jake. I hear his call like an echo in a vast room. A lost, blind sound. I roll over to a cool spot on the sheet and remember the way he looked at me that morning of the audition. The attraction had been immediate, wild, and electric. The promise and the temptation of pleasure and release that only Jake Eden can give shimmer in the morning air.

So: I will see him again tonight.

But I will not let this crazy longing distract me. He uses women the way other people use tissues. And when he discards them he gives them as much thought as people do to tissues they have soiled. I will not be one of his conquests.

When I came home last night I counted the money Shane had put on the bar. Two thousand pounds! If I am going to a party thrown by a gangland lord then I am going in some seriously fabulous gear.

After breakfast I take a taxi into London and end up in Pandora, a secondhand designer store in Knightsbridge. There I find myself standing in front of a mirror wearing a sweetheart neckline, sheer illusion, cocktail-length gown. Its price tag is an eye-watering one thousand eight hundred pounds. Far more than I have ever paid for a dress, but it is gloriously and uniquely beautiful with beads and sparkling blue crystals embellishing the fabric. The assistant, a friendly South American girl, runs to the shoe section and comes back with a pair of blue high heels. I slip them on.

‘Wow!’ she exclaims dramatically.

‘It’s very expensive, though,’ I worry aloud.

‘It is one-third of the price when it was new. It has probably only been worn once.’

I turn my head to look at my side profile. It is a truly breathtaking dress.

‘Wait,’ she says and going to a glass case takes out a pair of long earrings. She gives them to me and I clip them on. They are so perfect that there is nothing left to do but buy the whole ensemble.

‘You’ll stun him,’ she says sagely as she is counting Shane’s money.

At that moment I know. I am not going to this party to be with Shane, but Jake. Even though he is a dangerous criminal and a sexual predator, he is the one for me.

* * *

Shane arrives at seven sharp wearing a white dress shirt with ruffles at the front and a black, single-breasted suit. He is a sight for sore eyes. In the daylight I see that his eyes are the brightest blue this side of heaven. Genuine admiration glimmers in the beautiful depths. He purses his lips and whistles.

I twirl around for him.

‘Wow,’ he says appreciatively.

I look at the huge bunch of flowers and the obviously expensive box of handmade chocolates he is hugging. ‘For me?’ I ask.

He holds them out.

‘Thank you,’ I say and relieve him of them. Truth is I was fourteen the last time a guy brought me anything. Andrew Manning bought me a bar of Aero, my favorite chocolate back then, and put it in his back pocket. I can still remember his red face when he fished the melted, shapeless thing out.

‘You look rather dashing yourself,’ I murmur, letting my eyes travel over his fine clothes.

‘I bet you say that to all the boys,’ he jokes in a low, throaty voice.

It could have been silly, but I had to listen to my father bringing the house down with Meatloaf while I was growing up, so it works for me. Suddenly it is as if I have known him for years. I know he’s going to be my ally. A friend I can count on. He waits while I put the flowers in a vase and then we leave the apartment together. The weather is unseasonably warm and still, so I don’t bother with a jacket. There is a gleaming black Maserati Ghibli parked outside. Shane unlocks it and settles me into the passenger seat before going around to his side. I have never been in such an expensive car before. It is the byword in luxury and it smells heavenly.

‘So where is your brother’s house?’

‘The party is in Essex. About an hour and a half away.’

The conversation is easy and fun.

We leave the highway and hit narrow country roads surrounded by lush forests and finally arrive at electric iron gates. There are paparazzi with long lens cameras hanging around outside. They start immediately snapping their cameras on the off chance that we are famous.

‘Why are the paparazzi here?’

‘They’re expecting a Hollywood A-lister.’

‘Who?’

‘Leonardo Dicaprio.’

‘Really?’

The gates open and we drive through. The road leads up to a fabulous purple-lit mansion with six tall Roman style columns at its entrance.

‘Wow!’ I cry. ‘This belongs to your brother!’

‘Nice, huh?’

‘What does one have to do to afford a pile like this?’

‘This and that,’ he says easily, but evasively.

I turn to look at him. ‘Is it a secret?’

He glances briefly at me. ‘No, but some things are better left alone.’

Well, that is some warning. I clear my throat. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’

He grins, the sparkle returning to his eyes. ‘It’s OK, babe. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but Jake’s not the baddest thing in town,’ he says, pulling up to the front of the large courtyard, and finding a parking space among all the other highly strung boy’s toys. Shane holds open my door and I get out of the low-slung seat as elegantly as my short dress will allow.

I look up at the magnificent house and the first flutter of nerves hits me.

‘You look beautiful,’ Shane whispers in my ear.

I look gratefully up at him. We walk up to the house and climb the flight of stone steps and two Josh lookalikes in black outfits stand at the tall doors.

Inside, the party is well underway. There are beautiful people everywhere I care to look. We cross the black and white antique marble floor polished to a high sheen and enter a large room full of beautiful furnishings. The music is loud and the room is full of glamour-soaked people.

A statuesque, deeply tanned blonde approaches us with a silver tray of champagne flutes.

‘Good evening,’ she greets. ‘Would you like a drink?’

Shane gets two glasses and putting one in my hand says, ‘Come. Let me introduce you to Leo.’

So I meet Leo—as charming and urbane as he was in the Great Gatsby but a bit rounder than I expected—and his escort, a very tall South American beauty. A lot of people seem to know Shane. I say hello to various characters—a TV celebrity, a news anchor woman, and a couple of Shane’s cousins, a few decidedly shady. But neither Dominic nor Jake seems to be around. I discreetly glance at my watch. It has just gone ten.

It is only when Shane excuses himself to go to the toilet and I wander over to the open French doors to gaze out at the long, immaculately manicured lawn and surrounding gardens that I hear a man’s rich and distinctively husky voice that seems to leap above the music and make my blood throb and rush to my clit.

‘Hello, Jewel.’