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"A club member." He waves his cigar again, this time dismissively. "She broke the rules last night."
"So she's dressed that way as a punishment?" I ask, though the question I really want the answer to is what rule did she break that warranted that punishment?
"She's free to leave any time she wants. Don't look at me like that, reporter. I don't force girls into anything. What’s the point when if one won't do what you want, another will."
"Do you always view women as throwaway commodities?" I ask, after being momentarily stunned by this cynical observation.
"I view them with as much depth as they view themselves, which is very little. Did you come here to talk about women?" He turns his cold, grey eyes on me and I understand then why this young man holds so much power over those he encounters. There is magnetism behind that gaze.
"I came here to talk about you. Do you always keep such early hours?" It's barely 6.00 am.
Alfie Tell takes a long drag on his cigar and watches the smoke plume up to the ceiling where it encircles the chandelier.
"Grow up, reporter. I haven't been to bed yet. Are those your questions?" He nods sharply at the notepad on my lap.
"Yes, although I'd rather have a conversation with you than just ask questions."
"I wouldn't. Just run down the list, reporter." He is dismissive of me. I am a pest, an annoyance, and yet he invited me here and I wonder why.
"Alright, how do you think the public should view you?"
"I don't give a damn," he answers, not missing a beat. I turn to my next question.
"You were an exceptionally bright student throughout your schooling. Do you think you are wasting your potential?"
"You sound like someone's mother. Next question."
I want to ask him to expound on that remark. I am a journalist. Pushing for the truth within is what I do and yet, I am ashamed to say that this half-drunk 23-year-old has knocked the nerve right out of me. So, I move on.
"What do you want in life?"
"A good time. Freedom. Adventure."
"Do you think you're a good person?"
"There's no such animal."
That gave me pause. Could a man so young, so blessed, truly hold such a negative view of everyone? "Have you ever been in love?"
"A ridiculous concept. I can't love an insipid creature."
"There are other, less insipid women that exist both within and outside of your sphere of wealth, you know."
Another bout of laughter breaks out behind me and the exquisitely beautiful Cas Nova exclaims, "Shack up with a commoner? How obscene!"
He hardly seems serious but even so, his words bother me.
Mr Tell laughs briefly with his friend before taking another puff of his cigar and flicking it away from him where it smokes on the floor, burning a hole into the Persian rug and sending a foul smell up into the air. I'm grateful when the serious and sensible Eli Roth stubs it out with the toe of his alligator loafer. I turn back to Alfie Tell, determined to press on.
"Your father has always been very outspoken about having his sons join his company. Do you plan to fulfill his wishes?" For the first time, I see life in the young man's face—a poisonous vehemence behind his eyes and words.
"Mark me, reporter, if you ever catch me working in my father’s company, wring my neck and put me out of my misery. You'd be doing me a favour. Now, are you finished?"
"Just one more question. London is full of party boys. What makes you so different from everyone else?"
A slow, luxurious smile spreads across his face as he opens his arms, gesturing to himself, to everything that he is.
"Everyone likes to play, reporter. I just play harder than everyone else."