‘I came to England. I met Robert and the rest is history.’
He looked at me curiously. ‘So how on earth did you meet Robert?’
I shook my head. ‘I’d rather not talk about it.
For a second his eyes narrowed suspiciously. I stared at him steadily.
He looked at his watch. ‘You still up for The Dirty Aristocrat?’
I nodded. ‘Yeah. What actually goes on in there?’
‘It’s an anything goes kind of place.’
I leaned forward. ‘Why do you go there?’
He looks at me expressionlessly. ‘Usually for an anonymous fuck.’
I looked at him long and hard. ‘Why?’
‘Because I like it.’ A smile spread across his face. ‘Because I get bored easily.’
‘Don’t you ever want to be in a relationship with someone?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never met a woman yet who has stopped me from wanting other women, so what’s the point of pretending to her or me that we’re in a relationship when I’m not truly committed?’
‘Fair enough.’ I said, fixing my eyes on him, not liking what I was hearing. Chloe was right. He was a womanizer. An unapologetic, unabashed, unrepentant manwhore. Yet I could not stop wanting him.
He raised his eyebrow at a passing waiter and signaled for the bill.
Chapter 21
Tawny Maxwell
The foyer of The Dirty Aristocrat was claustrophobic, small and dark and hot. We went down some red steps and into a place with red lights and purple velvet curtains everywhere. A queen size bed with purple sheets and red cushions had been roped off. Presumably it was meant to evoke the sensation of entering a brothel, or a courtesan’s boudoir.
I could feel the heat from Ivan’s hand around my waist as we moved deeper into the club. It was heaving and the music was very commercial. They were playing Gangnam Style as we made for the bar. Somehow it seemed perfect in such sleazy surroundings. A gay couple sat on top of a massive speaker kissing passionately, and the dance floor was jam-packed with writhing, half-naked bodies.
Ivan led me to the bar. There was one empty stool. He curled his hands around my waist and, picking me up, popped me on the seat. I squealed with surprise.
‘Why did you do that?’ I asked, a little bit embarrassed and a little impressed with the show of brute strength.
‘You wanted to be here. Remember? Anything goes,’ he replied with a glint in his eye.
‘Oh yeah?’ I challenged daringly.
He gave me a look that made something happen between my legs. Jesus! Such a thing had never happened to me before.
‘What’re you drinking sexy lady?’ he asked staring into my eyes.
For a moment my mind was a complete blank. Then I said the first thing that came into my head. ‘Tequila with salt and lemon.’
He smiled. ‘A fire drink. Excellent choice.’
He didn’t even have to order the drinks. A switched on barman had not only heard the order, but had already fulfilled it. Two glasses came sliding across the bar towards us and stopped dead in front of us.
‘Impressive,’ I said.
The barman smiled, put down a saucer with lemon wedges and a salt shaker, and went on to another customer.
I looked at Ivan. ‘Don’t you have to pay for this?’
‘I have a bar tab running. The bill is settled monthly.’
Wow! A regular haunt then. We did the salt, alcohol and lemon thing.
‘Whoa,’ I said, my face scrunched up with the sour taste of the lemon. I had never had tequila before.
‘Another?’ he asked.
‘OK,’ I agreed immediately.
We did it all again.
‘Whoa,’ I said, trying not to cough.
‘Another?’ he asked with a devilish grin.
‘OK, but this is the last one,’ I said firmly. ‘I already feel ten times merrier for no good reason.’
‘This time let’s do it the Mexican way.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Warm without the salt and lemon.’
I raised my eyebrow. ‘Surely that would take all the fun out of it.’
The corners of his eyes crinkled. ‘On the contrary.’
He spoke to the barman and two shots came sliding towards us.
He clinked his glass to mine, his eyes telling their own story. ‘Anything goes.’
‘Anything goes,’ I agreed, and let the drink slip down my throat. Without the salt I could actually taste the peppery taste of the drink.
‘Like it?’ he asked.
I nodded. ‘I do actually.’
PSY’s Daddy came on and it could have been the Tequila or the feeling of being so damn close to him, but my foot started tapping.
‘Wanna dance?’ he asked.
‘Thought you’d never ask.’
He laughed and pulled me off the stool. The palm of my free hand somehow ended up on the wall of his chest. Heat radiated out of him into my skin.