Page 3 of Mayfair Madame (Mayfair Heights #1)

Chapter Three

Naomi

T he warmth of the evening did nothing to shift the ice in my veins. The journey home was plagued with flashbacks of a night many years ago. A night that had shaped me. A night that had made me into the formidable woman I was today.

For a moment, I’d retreated into myself, allowing me to be the young woman I once was, but I could no longer let that happen. She’d disappeared long ago, and I’d buried her deep in the recesses of my mind, never to see the light of day.

Except this evening, faced with that brute of a man, Benjamin, she’d returned with a vengeance, harbouring memories of an assault far worse than I’d endured this evening.

Over the years, I’d fought with everything I had to put the memories of that dark time out of my mind, but tonight the fears and sorrow she’d carried filled me with a gloominess that couldn’t be ignored.

I gazed out the car window; the streetlights illuminated the now dark sky. Night time had fallen over the city, and I was desperate for my bed. The events of the evening had tired me, and I wanted nothing more but to sleep for as long as I could.

A pill or two might be needed. I hated relying on sleeping tablets, but sometimes the whirlpool in my head refused to stop.

Not all was bad. Some were everyday thoughts.

Had I remembered to do something, buy something?

When was my next dental appointment? Mundane issues I’d usually rely on my assistant, Melinda, to remember.

Other times, as I knew would happen tonight, the horror I’d endured would come back to haunt my dreams, leaving me exhausted and irritable the next day.

“We’re here, madam,” Emmeline’s driver pulled up outside Mayfair Heights, my home for the last five years, ever since I’d moved to London.

I thanked him and gathered up the ruined dress and my sandals. Emmeline’s clothes barely fit, but I’d needed something to replace the torn gown.

Wearily, I pushed open the door to the foyer. The doorman, Walter, ready as always, greeted me. Did he ever sleep?

“Good evening, Miss Reeves. How was your evening?”

“Hey, Walter. I’ve had better.” I pressed the call button on the lift and waited.

Walter had worked here longer than I’d lived here, and we’d become good friends.

“Dare I ask why you’re carrying your dress and wearing clothes that, if I may say so, are not what you would normally wear?”

I looked down at the ill-fitting baby pink jumper and white jeans. Definitely not my usual style.

“You really don’t want to know.” The lift doors opened with a ping, and I stepped inside. “Good night, Walter.”

“Have a good evening, Miss Reeves.”

By the time I reached the penthouse, I was dead on my feet. I closed the door and slid home the bolts, finally breathing a sigh of relief.

My haven and home—I felt safest here. No one entered without my say-so, not even my assistant, although she had a key.

As much as I wanted to sleep, I needed a bath first. The stench of my attacker clung to my skin. I needed to rid myself of all traces of him, to cleanse not just my body but also my soul.

I filled the deep tub with water as hot as I could stand and added a glug of bubble bath, frothing the water.

I hissed as I dipped a toe. Fuck, that was hot, but I slipped beneath the bubbles anyway and luxuriated in the warmth.

Slowly, I sank farther into the water and closed my eyes. My skin tingled from the heat, but the chill in my bones lingered.

I breathed in the scented steam, the calming lavender finally soothing my mind. I reached for a flannel and soap and washed every part of my body, the soreness of the bruises reminding me of his violation.

I’d told the detective I’d make him pay. Words spoken in the heat of the moment, but upon reflection, would I be able to stand up to a man like him? A lord, no less. A man of wealth and supposed good standing.

But he was a man with an outdated ideology. A man who thought women were to be used and abused. I was sure it didn’t help that I was black, but no matter my colour, I didn’t deserve what he’d done to me.

No woman ever deserved it. How many men looked over their shoulders on a dark street? How many men had been shut away in a dark room aged fourteen?

I knew I wasn’t the first, nor would I be the last, but the shame and the memories still sat with me, especially on nights like tonight.

I shivered, the water now cool on my skin. How long had I sat here, thinking about the past?

Far too long.

I pushed myself up and let the water drip from my body, the soft suds gradually disappearing. I delicately touched the darkened bruises on my skin, wincing at the dull pain radiating through my breast.

They’d fade in time, but for now were a stark reminder of what had happened.

But something else had occurred this evening. Something I’d yet to unpack.

For the first time in a long while, a woman had caught my eye. It was definitely unexpected. She was unexpected.

The opposite of me, she was soft where I was hard, with a sensuality about her I didn’t think she knew she had.

She was shorter than me, but that wasn’t difficult. I was tall for a woman, five feet ten, over six feet in heels. I intimidated most men.

She was petite, with curves hidden by shapeless clothes, but I saw beneath them.

Her face had captivated me, and I hoped I hadn’t given away how much I’d wanted her to see me. Not as Naomi the hooker but as Naomi the woman.

Soft brown curls framed her face, with eyes gentle and kind, and lips. God, those lips were enough to drive me wild. Would they be as sumptuous as they looked?

She’d smelt sweet, of roses and something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Not perfume. Perhaps it was her soap or natural scent. Either way, it’d seeped into my every pore.

Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply, but all I smelt now was the lavender that hung in the damp air.

I dried myself and flipped the lid on the body lotion I loved. The daily ritual kept my skin soft.

I draped my silk robe around me. I liked the finer things in life: designer clothes, shoes, my penthouse.

I’d grown up with very little and now cherished everything I owned. I’d worked hard for it all, and no one would take it from me. Least of all, a fat bastard who couldn’t keep his dick in his trousers if he tried.

But it was late, and I had a meeting with Melinda tomorrow. If I took my pills now, I’d get a good few hours of sleep, assuming they did their job.

I climbed into bed; the sheets cool against my naked flesh. I preferred to sleep naked, whether alone or with someone, but it had been a long time since I’d shared my bed.

Despite what had happened earlier, it wasn’t Benjamin fucking Godfrey who kept me awake, but the soft-spoken detective who had refused to meet my gaze. Her voice and beauty invaded my dreams, and it was all I could do to grab a few hours’ sleep before morning arrived.

Loud hammering woke me up.

Groggily, I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair. Where on earth was that racket coming from?

Were they doing building work I didn’t know about?

Now awake, I got out of bed and slipped on my robe. Time for coffee. I yawned and staggered to the kitchen. Shit, the noise was coming from my door.

“I’m coming. Stop your banging,” I muttered, unlocking the door and throwing it open.

In the hallway stood a concerned-looking Melinda, her arm raised, ready to knock again.

“Jesus, Melinda. Why so early?” I walked back to the kitchen. It was too early for this shit.

“Early? Early? It’s past eleven, Naomi.”

“What? You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Had I really slept through my alarm?

“I was about to call the police. You never sleep this late. I’m just thankful you’re okay. Anything could have happened.”

Why hadn’t my alarm gone off? I’d barely got a wink of sleep, but according to my phone, it was eleven. Melinda was right, dammit. The alarm had gone off. I’d just not heard it.

I still needed coffee, though, and set to making a pot.

We sat in silence while it brewed. I disliked mornings, and Melinda knew not to talk to me before coffee, but she did anyway.

“Here. I brought you one of those pastries you like.” She pushed a box towards me from the bakery downstairs. The smell coming from it was divine.

“You only go to look at the cute girl working there. What’s her name again?” I bit into the buttery pastry and moaned. So fucking good.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she said, but the flush to her cheeks told a different story.

“You know who I mean.” I grinned, unable to resist teasing her. “Pretty little thing. Penelope or Phoebe? I can’t quite remember.”

Melinda fidgeted in her seat, but a small smile appeared. “It’s Felicity, but they call her Flick.”

“Ah, that’s it. You should ask her out.” I took another bite, flakes of pastry falling down the front of my robe.

Melinda was the most unassuming person I’d ever met. She was a kick-ass assistant but terrible when it came to romance.

She’d been burnt many times, hence her reluctance to put herself out there again. I’d spent many days in this kitchen consoling her as she cried.

“I’m old enough to be her mother.” She swept the crumbs into her hand and put them in the empty box.

“Maybe she’d like that.”

Melinda’s love life was complicated, but I’d not push her. Not today anyway.

“Let me get dressed, and then we’ll start. Pop on up to the office. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

The apartment was generous, split over two floors. Guest bedrooms and my office upstairs. Reception rooms, a kitchen, and my bedroom on this floor.

I threw on some jeans and a T-shirt, my usual when I wasn’t working, and grabbed the torn dress.

Melinda would want to know how last night went. She’d hit the roof when I told her about the assault, but I’d ask her for advice about what I should do.

Press charges or not. That was the question. Would I get away with it, or would that arsehole’s standing as a lord mean it’d come to nothing?

I checked the kitchen, but there were no more treats to be found. Good job, although I could always work out at the gym here in the apartment complex.

Guy was my personal trainer and took far too much pleasure in causing me pain. He was also the object of Oscar’s desire, although Oscar very much denied it. The same as Melinda denied her attraction to Flick.

What was it with my staff?

They needed to get their love lives together. Ironic coming from me. A madame who hadn’t had a relationship in so long I’d forgotten what it was like.

“Oh my God, Naomi. What happened to the dress?” Melinda stood open-mouthed as I showed her the torn strap.

Except now I looked closer, it wasn’t just torn. It was shredded. There was no way it could be repaired. Half of the beads were missing. The only place this dress was going was the bin.

“It’s a long story. Let’s get the everyday stuff out of the way, and then I’ll fill you in. What’s first on the list?” I sat in my chair and put my feet up on the desk. It was going to be a long day.

“Rupert wanted to know what you were doing for your birthday. I said I’d ask you. I think he’d like to do something special.”

Rupert was my adoptive father. Well, he’d not exactly adopted me, but I was as much a daughter to him as anyone could be, and it was thanks to him I lived here in this beautiful apartment.

“Christ, I’d forgotten what month it was. Just tell him I don’t need anything.”

“Like that’s going to work. You know him too well, and once he gets something into his head…”

She didn’t need to finish that sentence. I knew exactly what he was like.

I steepled my fingers and sucked in my bottom lip. What could I tell him? I hated celebrating my birthday, and while this wasn’t a milestone, I’d be thirty-five and coming into my prime.

The last time I’d told him I needed nothing, he’d presented me with the most beautiful gold necklace, a single diamond dangling from the chain. Knowing how much it would have cost him, I kept it in the safe. I’d never forgive myself if I lost it.

“Tell him I’ll think about it and get back to him.” He’d already given me so much. I could never hope to repay him. Not that he expected it, but I knew some people thought there was more to our relationship than there was.

We’d met while I was ‘on the job’, and we’d hit it off. As I’d mentioned to the delightful Ellie Sharpe, I didn’t sell sex. Well, not anymore. I sold my time, and that was exactly what Rupert had paid me for. In all the years I’d known him, there had never been anything remotely sexual between us.

Our meetings became a weekly occurrence, and our friendship had grown into something meaningful. He rarely left his home now, and I’d visit as often as I could.

I’d joke he was my sugar daddy, but he was so much more than that. I loved his sense of humour, his loyalty, and his dedication to lost causes.

“Okay, I can do that. Not sure how long he’ll wait, but you know him better than I do.”

“What’s next?”

“Next, you tell me what the hell happened last night, Naomi. How the hell did the dress get torn? Oscar is going to kill you.”

“Don’t I know it? Let’s grab more coffee, and I’ll fill you in. You will not believe how my night ended.”