Page 12 of Love and Loathing

Aubrey smiled fixedly, rather in the manner of a robot with a software malfunction, the next instruction failing to load. Good lord, just who was this woman, to break Aubrey Ford with a few words?

Wishing she had that power herself, she nonetheless reached out and squeezed Aubrey’s arm. It seemed to jolt him backinto some sort of functionality, because he turned to Domnall and said in a fairly normal voice, “How was Porto Cervo? Good sailing?”

Liv’s eyes flickered to Evie’s hand on Aubrey’s sleeve as Domnall frowned. “Bloody terrible, to be honest. Engine problems with the yacht. You hire all these people, and no one knows what they’re doing. Foreign crew. All incompetent.”

“Don’t forget the chef,” said Liv, which, Evie thought, was a nice way of making it clear to all that she had been there with Domnall. Sunbathing and bikinis and sweaty sex with Domnall’s groaning bulk heaving over her. No doubt Aubrey was subject to the same unsavoury impressions. The dire look buried in his eyes certainly seemed to say so.

“The chef!” Domnall groaned. “Thechefgot food poisoning. And if your chef gives himself food poisoning, it says about all you need to know of the man’s skills. Fired him on the spot while he was still green and wilting. Gave up on the whole trip in the end.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Aubrey said.

“And now we’re here, wasting our time on this trumpery nonsense,” Domnall complained, looking around the room with a lamenting eye. “I loathe these events. Having to clap for every middle manager getting rewarded just for doing his job. I spend the whole time thinking how it’d improve my bottom line if I could get rid of half the people here. Look at them all!”

He gestured to his employees as though to a herd of rats. With some amusement, Evie noted the rather glassy smile Liv was maintaining. Maybe cautioning the man not to publicly insult his own staff was a routine part of their pillow talk. Why on earth was she with the man? The money. It had to be.

“They’re like locusts,” Domnall continued. “Thousands of ‘em. And have you seen this new bill to increase the minimum wage? Do they think we’re a bottomless pit? If they keep increasing it,we won’t be able to pay anyone at all. Wouldn’t they rather have some wage than no wage? Greedy idiots.”

“Maybe you could afford it if you sold your super yacht?” Evie suggested sweetly.

Domnall stared at her, Aubrey stiffening at her side. But the man just laughed, apparently deciding she must be joking. “Oh, come now, darling. You wouldn’t deny a man his little pleasures, would you? I work hard, I play hard.”

And lech hard,Evie added mentally, not missing the way his gaze briefly stroked down her body. Fortunately, she was spared from having to reply by a waiter across the room beckoning none-too-subtly for her attention. Her stomach twisted. Time for phase two of the plan.

Letting go of Aubrey’s arm, she excused herself, pleading a call of nature, and ignoring the warning look he gave her. If he was upset about the yacht comment, he was going to be appalled by what came next.

At least they were too absorbed in their awkward trio of evil to watch her cross the room. The waiter, a young guy, pale and clammy with nerves, gestured jerkily for her to follow him. She did, keeping a few metres back, until he ducked through a Staff Only door, and, with a glance over her shoulder, Evie ducked through after.

“Do you have it?”

He nodded, seeming too nervous to speak, and hastily trotted further down the corridor. The kitchens were nearby, she could hear the clash of pans and smell the food cooking.

“Here,” he said at last, stopping at a service trolley and passing her a napkin-covered bundle. Her stomach twisted again as she took it, visions of what she was about to do making her heart thump and her head spin.

The waiter met her eye. She’d met him briefly that morning, while they all went through the plan: Zig, Fi, half a dozen peoplefrom FTP. Theo, the waiter, was one of them. Twenty years old. A gifted ecology student, his mum a minor politician. He had a lot to lose. So did Evie.

“I’ll be filming,” he said. “The others in the crowd will too. But we need the industry press to get images. You need to make a scene just before it happens, get their cameras on you.”

She nodded, knowing all this. They’d been over it a dozen times.

Theo met her eyes. “For The Planet,” he said. His nerves seemed to have faded now he’d handed over the smuggled-in item.

Evie nodded, feeling stupid as she replied, “For The Planet.” Theo didn’t salute, which was just as well, as it might have tipped her over into hysterics.

Then she was heading back, abandoning her plan to hide the bundle in her clutch bag. It was far too big. She’d just have to hope Aubrey was still too Liv-dazed to pay her any notice.

She ducked back through the door to the venue, nerves mounting again as she squeezed into the crowd. At least Aubrey was easy to spot, half a head taller than everyone around him.

He gave her a quick glance as she rejoined his side. He was still talking to Domnall and Liv. Good. But she had to act soon, before they left to do the host-thing, circulate, be seen and heard.

But she needed to be heard, too. She needed to be seen. All the defenceless things on planet earth, they needed to be seen and heard and oh God, she was shaking, the droning voices all around a deafening hum, the air tight in her lungs. Her hand shook, she nearly dropped the bundle, napkins sliding in her sweaty grasp.

“Domnall,” she said loudly, interrupting the man. Or trying to. He droned on. And only Aubrey paused. Only Aubrey turned tolook, frowning at her expression, eyes widening as they dropped to what she held—

Shit. It was now or never. No time to make a scene, only time to act. She lifted her hand—and had it wrenched back, twisted painfully behind her, her vision suddenly swamped by Aubrey’s body, all her senses a confusion. His waistcoat against her, his neck and jaw, and his solid weight pressing her backwards.

“She’s going to be sick,” he said, crowding her away, gripping her arm, her waist. Forcing her back, and back, through the crowd, his fingers brutal on her wrist.

“No!” she gasped, struggling ineffectually, but she was clamped against Aubrey’s side, being frogmarched from the room, out through the foyer, forced bodily through the door to the darkened street outside.

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