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CHAPTER 4

LIZZIE

I didn’t even think of escaping. Deep down I knew it wasn’t possible. I’d never get out of the theater without someone stopping me or asking where I was going or why I wasn’t headed to the party. Plus, I had no idea if Richard was standing just outside my door and I was way too intimidated to peek out to check.

Obeying his command, I finished dressing. I did think about appearing in the off-the-rack cocktail dress I had planned originally to wear but an image of him dragging me back to the dressing room and stripping the clothes off me was extremely vivid in my mind. I knew it wasn’t just a possibility, it was a foregone conclusion if I tried to defy him.

After putting on a matching black lace bra and panties’ set, I slipped The Vampire’s Wife dress over my head, and felt the cool silk slide down my body. It was a street-sweeping dress so the length pooled on the floor about me. Usually a slim-fitting bodice would be too tight across my larger chest but this fit perfectly. As if it had been tailored just for me. Under the sheer tulle was a champagne silk shift, so the dress gave the impression of bare skin barely concealed by the black velvet flowers. Inside the box I found a pair of high heels and a pair of gloves that perfectly matched the dress. The gloves stretched all the way up my arms till they reached the dress’s puffed sleeves.

Looking in the mirror, I saw the dress gave mixed signals. On one hand it was seductive with its fluted hem cut and black lace over skin appearance but on the other, I was fully covered, from my toes to my chin, in fabric. I immediately thought of a Victorian gown, designed to entice and show off a woman’s curves and yet equally meant to convey a sort of icy distance, an aura of being a pretty object not meant to be touched by others.

With shaking hands, I rifled through my purse for some makeup. After touching up my foundation and mascara I realized I didn’t even need lipstick. My already full lips were stained a bright cherry red from the forceful press of his mouth.

After what I was sure was precisely five minutes, there was a discreet knock on the door. I opened it to see Richard standing there with a fur wrap in his hand. Placing it on my shoulders, he offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Stifling a sudden desire to break into almost psychotic laughter over the formal politeness of his gesture given what had transpired between us, I gave him my arm.

Ignoring Jane’s questioning look as we passed, I allowed Richard to escort me to the cast party.

The party was being held at The Brewery. It was right next to the Barbican Center so we walked the short distance. As soon as the tan brick building was in view, Richard guided me to a separate private entrance.

He had rented out the Sugar Rooms for our event. The Brewery restaurant is on the site of what was once one of the oldest breweries in England. The Sugar Rooms were where they used to store the sugar to make the beer. Now it was a beautiful space with vaulted ceilings, polished oak floors, and large Georgian windows that overlooked the courtyard.

For tonight’s cast party, it was obvious Richard had spared no expense. The room was flooded with green and pink lighting, the colors from the poster for The Lady Protests . Each table was covered in gold linens with large arrangements of white roses.

Most cast parties were ad hoc affairs at a nearby bar where we passed a hat to collect money for the cheapest pitchers of beer we could get and platters of communal food like wings and pizza.

It was obvious this was an elegant affair put on not only for the cast but also investors, the press, and the board of the Barbican.

Begrudgingly, I was pleased I was wearing such a stunning designer gown instead of my department store sales rack number. I wanted to continue acting in London and perhaps even have a secondary career as a costume designer and for that to happen I needed to be noticed. Arriving at the party on Richard’s arm in this gown certainly got me noticed.

Deliberately putting his kiss out of my mind, I decided to set a more professional tone. Perhaps send him the signal that I considered this a working relationship and nothing more.

“The room looks gorgeous,” I offered. My voice sounded high and strained like I was trying too hard to sound normal… which I was.

“Thank you. I will pass along your compliments to the event planner.”

Awkward silence. I looked about the room for someone to save me.

None of my friends approached, no doubt put off by Richard’s presence by my side. I could tell we were attracting quite a few stares, probably compliments of Jane telling everyone about Richard’s sudden interest in me.

Richard leaned down to whisper in my ear, “You look stunning in that gown. I’m pleased you decided to wear it for me.”

Like I had a choice!

Swallowing my biting reply, I said instead, “You look very nice in your suit as well. Is it a Brunello Cuccinelli?” I asked, naming a famous designer whose fall collection I had recently studied in school.

The dark gray wool suit with a hint of a purple pinstripe fitted his large, strong frame expertly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean hips.

“Harry Poole,” he answered smoothly.

I bit my lip. Once again, I looked like an idiot in front of him. I had learned in class that Harry Poole tailors were considered the founders of Savile Row. The area of London where all the best bespoke tailors in the world had shops. He is considered the creator of the modern dinner jacket. Anyone who was anyone had a suit from Savile Row but only the especially wealthy had access to Harry Poole’s services.

Thankfully at that moment, a server walked by with a tray of canapés.

“May I offer you a lemon mille feulle with toasted meringue and candied lemon?”

I had no idea what any of that was but it looked like a cute little lemon meringue pie so I reached for one. As I took a bite and let the tart sweetness soothe my tattered nerves, another server approached.

“Good evening, Your Grace. May I offer you and your guest a cocktail?”

Before I could respond with my usual order of a Cosmo martini with extra cranberry, Richard spoke. “The lady will have a small glass of champagne. I will have a glass of the 2016 Lafite. I believe a bottle has been decanted for my use.”

Pouting like a petulant child, I at least waited till the server bowed and departed before turning on him. “I wanted a martini.”

“That is all well and good but you are getting a discreet glass of champagne,” he said darkly in that composed tone that screamed authority.

With a huff, I turned back to the party. Snatching up what I was told by the server was a smoked haddock croquette with crispy capers and a chive emulsion, I took an angry bite.

Once he was spotted there was an endless stream of people who lined up to speak to Richard. Several times I tried to inch away but each time I was prevented by a possessive arm around my waist. Setting the empty flute of the champagne I didn’t even want on a passing tray, I waited for my moment.

A server brought Richard a fresh glass of wine just as someone reached out to shake his hand. With both of his hands occupied, I used that moment to bolt deeper into the crowded room.

Risking a glance over my shoulder, I could see his angry scowl but I knew I was safe with so many witnesses… at least for now.

Making my way through the crowd, I found Jane talking with Jack Hutley, our director.

“Congratulations, Lizzie, on a stellar performance!” said Jack enthusiastically as he gave me a half hug and kissed me on the cheek. “Where’s your drink? We need to toast.”

“I’ll get you one,” said Mike from just behind me. “It’s a free bar so take advantage!” With the noise from everyone talking and the loud music I didn’t hear him approach. Instantly I was nervous about what Richard would think about Mike standing so close to me. I then chided myself for the thought.

The man didn’t own me!

Placing a flirtatious hand on his arm, I leaned up to say into his ear so he could hear me over the din, “That would be awesome! I’ll have a Cosmo.”

Mike nodded and gave me a thumbs-up. Jane told him to get her a Cosmo too.

The satisfied smirk at my slight show of disobedience died on my lips when I saw Richard’s thunderous expression from across the room.

Jane switched places with Jack so she could stand by my side.

“What the fuck is going on with you and the duke?”

Unsure of how many people at this event were friends of Richard’s, I squeezed her hand to signal for her to be quiet. “I’ll tell you later,” I mouthed. She winked to show she understood.

Just then, Mike returned with two Cosmos. As I reached for the one in his right hand, he stopped me. “Not that one, here,” he said as he handed me the one from his left hand. I gave him a questioning look. Shrugging me off, he explained, “That one has extra cranberry like you asked.”

I didn’t remember telling him extra cranberry but I was probably just being hypersensitive and paranoid. Ever since my first meeting with Richard earlier, I had been tense and on edge. I needed this party to be over so I could head back to my flat and a nice hot bath.

I needed some solitude to go over in my mind the crazy whirlwind of events from this evening.

Half listening as Jack talked animatedly about his next directing project and when auditions would start, I drank my martini a little too fast. Between the champagne and vodka on my mostly empty stomach, I immediately started to feel lightheaded.

Breathing heavily, I tried to stem the rising panic as the room began to tilt and spin. Everything started to get fuzzy. The music and voices around me sounded as if they were far away in a tunnel.

My eyelids felt heavy as they started to close. As I felt my body start to pitch backward, a pair of strong arms circled my waist from behind. A deep-timbred voice murmured in my ear, “Don’t worry, my love. I’ve got you.”