Page 70 of A Night with Damien Spur

‘For what?’

‘A charity auction ball raising money for a special-needs school. Claudia asked Sophie and me to join the committee, chaired by Lady Elizabeth Maitland. Do you know her?’

‘No, I haven’t met her.’

‘Well, she knows who you are and she’s very keen for you to donate your time.’

Damien ran his fingers through his hair and fixed her with a naughty-boy look. ‘And how will you list me?’ he asked.

‘The main prize…’ Anna improvised. ‘A night with Damien Spur. The famed thriller writer, bon viveur and heart-throb, would love to entertain you.’

‘Excellent, Anna. How could I say no? So, please tell your committee that I am delighted to say yes.’

‘Thank you, Damien.’ Anna leant forward and brushed his lips.

And yet… had he known that saying yes to her innocent request would send him plummeting into the depths of despair, he would have said no.

Chapter 21

Elizabeth stood at the top of the sweeping staircase leadingdown to the Grand Hall of the Ritz Hotel.

Radiant and magnificent in a pale grey silk gown, her swan’s neck encased in a diamond choker, she greeted her glamorous guests, ready to open their hearts and their wallets.

She loved organising charity balls. It made it easier to live with herself. Assuaged her guilty conscience. Allowed her to justify her predatory need to possess and then destroy men who had fallen for her dark charisma.

‘It’s just in my nature,’ she would say to her girlfriends. ‘The sting in the tail. I suppose I’m a woman who can’t be taken unless a man gives me a hard time.’

Damien was the last to arrive.

That afternoon, he’d slept with a girl whom he’d met at The London Library. She’d managed to keep him interested for longer than anticipated.

Afterwards, a little flustered, he’d showered and dressed.

‘Your bow tie’s crooked,’ she said.

‘Never mind, at least people will know it’s not a clip-on.’ He checked his hair in the mirror and turned to the girl lying on his bed and blew her a kiss. ‘Well, I’m off now. You can stay as long as you like, just make sure the door’s closed when you let yourself out.’

‘How generous of you.’ She gave him that look. The one he’d seen so many times: No need to pretend, Damien Spur. You’ve no intention of seeing me again. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ll be gone by the time you get back.’

Damien paid lip service to the end game. ‘I’ll call you,’ he said, and left.

***

‘Hello, Mr Spur.’ Elizabeth held out her hand. ‘So pleased you could make it.’

All those retouched images in magazines were arresting, but in the flesh, she was even more impressive. Copper hair, a refined face, amber wide-set eyes and her skin – glistening, pearl white.

‘Very flattered that you asked me.’ He kissed her hand. ‘Sorry I’m a bit late.’

‘That’s okay. The auction hasn’t started yet. Now then, shall we go down? But first, may I?’ She straightened his bow tie with a confidence that already gave him a thrill.

At the foot of the stairs, celebrity auctioneer suave Danny Archer stood with Claudia scanning the list of donations.

‘Well, Horatio de Beaumont’s weekend at his chateau and a case of Premier Cru Merlot should fetch a pretty sum, Claudia,’ he said. ‘And I love the fine Russian icon from Nicholas Morley, which no doubt will interest your Slavic guests. But the star by far is the evening with Damien Spur. I am sure that there are plenty of chic divorcees here ready to bid for his undivided attention.’

At the Freesia table sat Horatio and Sophie, Adam next, then Lala with her husband, Boris, on her other side. To complete the circle, Elizabeth and Damien.

‘A hen between two cockerels could be fun,’ Elizabeth had said to Claudia when they were arranging the seating plan.

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