A Gift for Mrs Arnett?

Richard Arnett's suite was exactly what Mara had imagined a wealthy businessman's hotel room would look like. Actually, it was better. The door opened onto a spacious living area with a cream leather sofa, a polished walnut coffee table and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the illuminated city. Beyond the lounge was a dining table large enough for six, a discreet kitchenette and, through a partially open doorway, what looked like an enormous bedroom.

"Wow," Mara breathed, stepping inside. "This is your hotel room?"

Richard smiled as he slipped his key card into the holder beside the door. "One of their upgraded business suites. They look after me rather well here."

"I can see that." Mara wandered towards the windows, her silver platform heels clicking against the polished floor. She could see the hotel swimming pool below, glowing turquoise in the darkness.

"Your room won't be quite this grand, I'm afraid," Richard said. "But I think you'll survive."

Mara giggled. "Well, if it's not up to my standards, I'll be making a complaint."

"Naturally." Richard picked up an errant suit jacket from the sofa and placed it over the back of a chair. "Now then, Sugar Plum. Let's get you settled. Would you like something to drink?"

"Oh God, yes."

"Wine?"

"Something stronger."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "One of those evenings, was it?"

"You have absolutely no idea."

He crossed to the minibar and examined its contents. "Whisky? Gin? Vodka?"

"Vodka. Definitely vodka."

Richard poured a generous measure into a crystal tumbler, added ice and a splash of tonic, then handed it to her. "Here you are. Take your time with that. It's rather strong."

"Thank you, Mr Arnett."

"Richard, please. You've known me your entire life."

"I know, but it feels weird."

"Well, you can call me whatever makes you comfortable."

Mara took a substantial swallow. The vodka burned on its way down. "Bloody hell!"

Richard chuckled. "I did warn you."

She took another, smaller sip and settled onto the leather sofa, carefully arranging her little fur bolero around her shoulders.

Richard sat in the armchair opposite. "Now," he said gently. "Would you like to tell me what happened?"

Mara sighed dramatically. "It's Hugh."

"I gathered that much."

"He's cheating on me."

Richard's expression became serious. "Has he told you that?"

"No! Of course he hasn't told me. Why would he tell me?"

"Well, what makes you think he's been unfaithful?"

Mara stared at him as though the answer should have been obvious. "Because he came home smelling like another woman!"

Richard waited. "And?"

"And what?"

"Was there anything else?"

"He was late home. Really late. And he was acting all suspicious with his phone."

"Suspicious how?"

"He got a message and turned his phone over."

Richard considered this. "I see."

"And there's this girl at his work. Elaine." Mara practically spat the name. "She's always hanging around him. Always laughing at his stupid jokes. Always finding excuses to talk to him."

"Have you spoken to Hugh about her?"

"About a million times!"

"And what does he say?"

"That they're just friends. That they work together. That I'm imagining things."

Richard nodded slowly. "Well, perhaps…"

"Don't you dare say I'm imagining things too!"

He held up both hands. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Mara folded her arms. "Men always stick together."

"Do we?"

"Yes!"

"Even when we don't know one another?"

"Especially then."

Richard laughed softly.

Mara couldn't help smiling herself. She hadn't told Richard every detail of the argument, of course. There had been other explanations, other things Hugh had said, but they all seemed terribly unimportant compared with the way he'd made her feel. And that was what mattered, wasn't it?

"He just doesn't respect me," she concluded.

Richard regarded her thoughtfully. "Relationships can be difficult, Sugar Plum. Especially when emotions are running high."

"Well, he can go and be difficult with Elaine."

"Perhaps tomorrow, when you've both calmed down, you might talk."

"Tomorrow?"

"Or whenever you're ready."

Mara took another drink. The vodka was beginning to work its magic. The tight knot of anger in her chest was loosening, and the terrible evening she'd been having suddenly seemed rather less terrible. She was sitting in a beautiful hotel suite, drinking expensive vodka, with someone who was being wonderfully attentive to her. Hugh was probably sitting at home wondering where she'd gone. Good. Let him wonder.

"You're much nicer to me than Hugh is," she announced.

Richard smiled. "Well, I've had considerably more practice dealing with you."

"Hey!"

"I remember you throwing an almighty tantrum at your father's birthday party because someone had eaten the last piece of chocolate cake."

"I was six!"

"You were sixteen."

Mara gasped. "That is a horrible lie!"

Richard laughed. "Another drink?"

Mara glanced down at her nearly empty glass. "Maybe just a little one."

He topped it up with a smaller measure and added more tonic. "Now, no more after this. You've had a difficult evening, and I suspect you've already had a few."

Mara waved dismissively. "Only wine."

"How much wine?"

"Some."

"Ah. A precise measurement."

She grinned. Richard returned to his chair while Mara got up to explore the suite. She admired the artwork, inspected the expensive coffee machine and opened the curtains wider to look at the city. Then something caught her eye. On a console table near the bedroom doorway sat a beautiful black shopping bag. Thick embossed paper. Gold rope handles. And a familiar name printed discreetly across the front. Agent Provocateur.

Mara recognised it immediately. "Oh my God!"

Richard looked up. "What?"

"Is this what I think it is?" She picked up the bag.

For the first time that evening, Richard appeared genuinely uncomfortable. "Mara, perhaps leave that alone."

But Mara was already peering inside. "Is this for Mrs Arnett?"

"Mara…"

"Because if it is, you have excellent taste!" Mara pulled aside the black tissue paper. "Oh, wow!"

Inside was a beautifully presented set of black lace lingerie. Delicate embroidery, satin bows and sheer panels made it look considerably more expensive than anything Mara owned.

She lifted it from the box. "Mr Arnett! You naughty man!"

Richard looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Mara, please put that back."

"Is this for Mrs Arnett?"

"No."

Mara stopped. "Oh?"

"Just put it away, Sugar Plum."

But Mara had already found the little label. She read it. Then read it again. "Hang on. This is my size!"

Richard sighed. "Is it?"

"Exactly my size!" She held the lingerie against herself, examining it in the reflection of the darkened window. "God, I wish Hugh bought me things like this."

"Mara."

"What? I'm just looking!"

She carefully returned the garment to its box, but noticed a cream envelope beneath the tissue paper. For Vanessa.

Mara looked up. "Who's Vanessa?"

Richard rubbed his forehead. "Someone I was seeing."

"Was?"

"Yes. Was."

Mara's expression changed immediately. "Oh no. What happened?"

Richard settled into his armchair. "Caroline and I separated eight months ago. Vanessa and I began seeing each other afterwards. I bought her that as a present."

"And?"

"And she ended things before I could give it to her."

Mara glanced at the shopping bag. "She dumped you?"

"That's one way of putting it."

"But why?"

Richard gave a small, humourless laugh. "Apparently I wasn't offering her the sort of future she wanted."

"Well, that's stupid."

"Perhaps."

Mara picked up the box again. "And now you're stuck with expensive underwear?"

"It would appear so."

"That fits me perfectly?"

Richard raised an eyebrow. "You're remarkably interested in that particular detail."

Mara grinned. "I'm just saying. What are the chances?"

"Quite."

She examined the beautiful black lace once more. "You can't exactly return something like this, can you?"

"I haven't tried."

"And you can't give it to Mrs Arnett."

"Certainly not."

"And Vanessa doesn't want it."

"No."

Mara looked at him with an expression of exaggerated innocence. "So what are you going to do with it?"

Richard studied her for a moment. "Are you suggesting something, Sugar Plum?"

"Me?" She pressed a hand dramatically against her chest. "Mr Arnett, I'm shocked you'd think such a thing!"

Richard laughed.

Mara smiled back, feeling the warmth of the vodka in her cheeks. Then she looked down at the lingerie again. It really was beautiful. And it really was her size.

"Although," she added thoughtfully, "it would be an awful shame to waste it."