The Braille Club (The Braille Club #1) (4 page)

Chapter 5

THE BRAILLE CLUB

Braille Club, London, Present Day: The Braille Key is the member’s responsibility. They receive one on their orientation tour of the club. They must keep it safe, and they must keep it hidden. When entering reception they hand over both their card and key to a member of staff behind the sleek, hi-gloss desk. Their key is programmed with their time slot and zone before they get it back. It is black and although smaller, resembles a modern car key, and like its counterpart one of its functions is opening doors.

“Ben, did you want me?”

“Yes, come in, Guy.”

“So,” he said, “‘our special guest,’ what’s the plan?”

“Yes, our special guest,” said Benedict broodingly.

“This should be a one off, Guy; I couldn’t get out of it,” sighed Benedict. He understood by granting this favour he would be rewarded, growing internationally and raising his profile. Often, it wasn’t what you knew in life that got you places but who you knew. “This night is huge, Guy, but it’s what they pay for. Security, as ever, is our biggest concern.”

Nodding, Guy said, “We can control most things; we have cameras covering every angle. The guest is the only novice—it should be straightforward. Plus, to be honest, they’re all dying to know who’s in there with them.”

“Yes, but that’s the whole point. It’s the mystery that keeps them coming back.” Benedict laughed. They spent the next hour discussing the complexities of the forthcoming event.

“The bodyguards of our guest will always be in radio contact. Are we giving them visual as well?” asked Guy.

“Yes.”

Benedict had come to a decision. His guest would, of course, be blindfolded so the visual feed would be for the eyes of his staff only as they would be sitting directly outside his booth. Benedict would have to take sole responsibility for the security while his guest was alone. His special guest had chosen to be the Assignee. Therefore, the Patron would have to be thoroughly vetted. Of course, every safety precaution would be taken, but sometimes dangers lurked where you failed to see them. Guy’s training meant he was disciplined both physically and mentally, could follow orders without question, and had a heightened sense of awareness. He was Benedict’s right-hand man, and he’d trust him with his life.

“Okay,” said Guy. “Let’s run through it from the top. Our special guest will enter through our private car park; a space will be allocated specifically for them in advance. They will be the first to arrive. No one else is admitted to the car park until they are safely in the club via the private elevator directly to the E-Suites. The rest of the group will arrive at staged intervals. Braille Keys will be programmed with zone choices at check-in and members must bring it with them to gain access.

“When the keys start to vibrate, they need to make their way to the lifts that are activated by their cards. They’re programmed to take them to the right floor and will recognise them and their time slot. Members have thirty minutes in total to get into the room. When the vibration on their key increases, that’s their fifteen-minute countdown, but most are normally in the room and seated.”

The million pound Elysian fee was to cover the extensive vetting costs, the complex legally binding confidentiality agreements and the in-house professional security. Running costs to conceal his members’ identities did not come cheap.

His members could be reassured their interests and privacy would be well protected. No media leak or
exposés;
Benedict had made sure of it and remained ever vigilant.

The special guest in question was already looking forward to visiting The Braille Club. Although recommended by a friend, he would not go into details. No matter how hard pressed, the information was not revealed.

Although difficult to arrange, things finally seemed to be moving in the right direction. The bodyguards were an issue, but where there’s a will, there’s a way.

Chapter 6

THE BRAILLE CLUB

Braille Club, London, Present Day: Perfume is something that evokes the senses and stirs the memory. A child never forgets their mother’s scent, often only worn on special occasions, making the child cling to her before she leaves for the night. The first eau de toilette chosen by a young girl is often surpassed by more sophisticated brands but never forgotten. The expensive aftershave of the office heart throb sets him apart, announcing his presence as women imperceptibly move closer just to smell it.

A distinctive bouquet takes us back to a certain moment in time. We can often identify people by their scent alone. Therefore, all Braille members must wear ‘Caligo.’ It is the unique fragrance of Braille. It is heavy yet fresh, exotic yet familiar, and every member receives a complimentary bottle.

Marbella, 2012

Matt

Matt observed Benedict, oblivious to the stir he caused wherever they went. He had changed for his business meeting. As he glanced around he could see females’ faces turned in Benedict’s direction. Women couldn’t help themselves; they were drawn to him, aware they were not the focus of his attentions and wondering how they could be. Many he knew thought Benedict was full of complexities but Matt appreciated his simplicity and directness, while admiring his tall, lean body, which was surprisingly toned and athletic. Matt himself had to work very hard to keep his body in shape while Benedict seemed to do very little by comparison. In a rare confidence, he’d told Matt he’d inherited his dark chestnut hair from his mother. Matt waited for more but Benedict reverted to type and said nothing further. His voice was strong yet husky, and Matt often had to lean in just to hear him.

Matt thought the eyes were the window to your soul but like his demeanour, Benedict’s eyes were always opaque. He was dressed as usual despite the heat. His suit understated but classic, a crisp shirt and silk tie beneath his waistcoat. The suit was linen, his only concession to the heat. Matt noticed
Benedict remained tense and quiet throughout breakfast and kept checking his iPhone. Matt remembered Benedict’s scowl and look of confusion at the nightclub—that girl meant something to him, but wisely Matt didn’t push him. They left shortly afterwards, Benedict quiet and Matt uneasy, cursing himself for being so insensitive. It was a relief Benedict was acting like a normal hot blooded male, well, normal and Benedict didn’t gel, but it was a start.

He sighed; he had jumped at the chance to come over to Marbella for the weekend with Benedict, thought it would be good for both of them. Working so hard, they’d hardly seen each other over the last two years, and Matt realised, he, not Benedict kept the friendship going. That’s why he had been so surprised and quietly pleased at the weekend offer. Matt noticed Benedict check his phone again.

“Are you waiting on an important call?”

“No,” said Benedict. “I mean yes.”

Matt regarded Benedict in surprise, he had never seen him act or look this way. If it hadn’t been Benedict, he would have sworn…what…he couldn’t put his finger on it. Detachment was usually his best defence, and he wore it daily like armour but not, it seemed, today.

“I see, business okay?” he asked.

“God yes, never better,” replied Benedict.

They lapsed into silence again, and Matt realised what was wrong with Benedict. “Is this about last night?” Matt asked.

Benedict scowled, and Matt thought,
Bull’s-eye
. He remembered the pretty girl at the club, regretting he’d returned to the hotel with Benedict.

“Well, I’m happy to go back, if you are,” he said. “I’ve never seen so many babes in one room! This time, if you’re leaving early, I’ll make my own way back to the hotel ’cos I’m feeling lucky.” He grinned.

“Fine,” Benedict relented. “I’ll go for a bit but I need to work today. Will you be okay on your own?”

Matt gestured towards the beautiful infinity pool outside, surrounded by comfortable sun loungers, and grinned.

“Yeah, it will be tough but I’ll manage.”

“I’ll text you when I’m back in the hotel, shouldn’t be later than five o’clock.” And he was gone.

Matt headed for the pool, picked his lounger of choice, and prepared for a long hot day in the sun. Benedict was in Spain to try to secure a consultancy on a complete renovation of an existing villa in a prime location along the coast. The present owners wanted to revamp the entire building.

Matt, always impressed by his friend’s talent, believed his proposed drawings were outstanding, but competition for these projects was fierce. He lacked Benedict’s flair for excellent design and his knack for interpreting a client’s brief, but he was happy in his job, and his work was solid.

Matt was proud of his body. Smaller than Benedict with a stockier frame, he worked out every day and it showed. Baby faced with dark blond hair, kind brown eyes, and an outgoing personality, he was never short of company. Many of the women around the pool looked at him admiringly. Feeling happy and contented, he further entertained his audience by covering his body in sun tan lotion. He read for a while as the sun crept along the sky until he was forced to plunge into the pool to cool down. A natural swimmer, he enjoyed the thirty lengths up and down the pool. Tired from his swim and the sun, he couldn’t believe how fast the afternoon passed. Re-applying more sun cream, he soon drifted off to sleep under the hot glare of the sun until interrupted by a voice behind him.

“Excuse me, is this bed free?”

Matt glanced up, surprised by how busy the pool had become. He realised his things were strewn all around him. Embarrassed, he got up and then stopped, staring at the woman now inches away from him.

Shit
, he thought.
Shit it’s her, Ben’s girl
. The woman, misunderstanding, assumed he hadn’t heard her and repeated her question.

“Sorry,” he blurted, unnerved by her presence. He gathered his belongings, dragging them over towards his lounger.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling.

He nodded, stunned by her beauty, her long blonde curls held back by sunglasses and her bronzed skin shimmering in the sunlight.

Her eyes and face had a quizzical look, and he realised he was staring at her. Dropping his gaze, he turned away and decided now was the perfect time for a drink. He pulled on his t-shirt, picked up his phone and slid it into his pocket. He glanced back; she’d settled down to read a book. Matt sat down in the shade drinking his beer, watching the girl from his vantage point at the bar. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Benedict.

Matt: Guess who just sat next to me at the pool? The girl you met last night!

Matt jumped, startled by a phone buzzing behind him and swung round.

***

Benedict

“Really?” said Benedict. “I thought it was her getting out of the taxi in front of me, but I wasn’t sure. Her name is Siena; she was at the meeting.” He looked a bit shaken and not his usual calm self.

“Oh,” said Matt, confused. “What was she doing there?”

“She’s the bloody client,” said Benedict in a rush, feeling heat suffuse his face. “I had no idea, and it threw me at the meeting.”

“You only danced with her, mate,” said Matt, smiling. “No real harm done.”

Benedict wished that was all he’d done with her. “She’ll decide on the commission,” he said guardedly.

“Right, you’ll need a beer, then,” said Matt hastily, signalling to the waiter for two more beers.

“Where is she?” said Benedict, looking around.

“She’s on the sunbed with the large parasol to the right of the pool.”

Benedict took a long, grateful drink of his beer before looking over at Siena. She was staring straight back at him and he winced. He sat back; he hated clubs as a rule, only going at Matt’s insistence, but he remembered the dance, the card, and the call. He didn’t like to admit it to himself but he wanted to see her again, and yet he hadn’t even known her name. Well he knew it now. In one fluid movement, she was on her feet walking towards them. Benedict wanted to shrink back out of sight but was completely exposed at the side of the bar. With nowhere to run, she was soon standing in front of him.

“Benedict, how lovely to see you again so soon.” Her voice had a soft American accent. Benedict couldn’t see her eyes behind the large sunglasses, making it difficult to read her mood, although her lips were smiling. He was silent for a minute before answering; his eyes bright with intensity as his gaze swept over her body.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s strange we keep bumping into each other.”

This time it was her turn to pause. “You’re right; would you both be free to join me for dinner?”

The sexual tension between them simmered. Taken aback by her directness, Benedict was momentarily lost for words.

“Th-this evening?” he stuttered.

“Well, yes, unless you’re busy?”

“I’m afraid I am,” blurted Matt quickly.

“How rude of me,” said Benedict. “Siena, this is my friend Matt.”

“Yes, Matt and I already met at the pool, but now I know your name.”

“Nice to meet you, Siena, but you’ll have to excuse me. I’m already late for my massage,” said Matt, blushing. As he hurried away, he sent Benedict a text.

Matt: I hope you’re going to dinner? If you don’t, I will…

Benedict ignored the vibration of his phone. The atmosphere between them was even more electric. She was dressed in a pretty white bikini with a sheer white kaftan over it, decorated at the plunging neckline with stones that sparkled in the sun. He stared boldly at her body. The smooth golden skin, the high soft breasts, the long, lean legs, and those lips…he was transfixed.

“I hope we can finish what we started,” said Benedict.

“Mmmmm, is that a yes to dinner?” she breathed.

He nodded, not taking his gaze from her. His need to kiss her, devour her, was almost more than he could stand.

She leant in closer and he was enveloped in the smell of her. Exotic, expensive, but most of all, sexy, so damn sexy…and desire charged through him. God, he wanted her.

“Until tonight then. Dinner is nine-thirty sharp,” she whispered close to his ear, brushing his face with her lips, and then she twisted away, leaving him standing there alone.

And he was back at that day, the worst day when the one person he loved was taken from him. This often happened to him, the memory coming out of nowhere to catch him unawares. Was it because he had felt longing surge through him? Was that the trigger to his grief? It felt like hands tearing at his chest and ripping through his skin. They reached inside and squeezed his heart, squeezed the life out of it. Even now sixteen years later, the pain was unbearable.

“Alex,” he moaned. This memory always led to the other and he staggered backwards and collapsed gratefully into a nearby couch. Unaware of the tears streaming down his cheeks, he dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes.

“Sir,” said a concerned voice, “Is everything all right, sir?”

Wiping his face, Benedict nodded and dismissed the waiter. Still trembling, he got to his feet, exhaustion overwhelming him. It had happened again, hence the reason he didn’t let women get close to him, why he kept them at a distance, especially a woman like Siena; he needed to stop the memories engulfing him. What would she think of him? It had not taken her long to unlock the one memory he tried so desperately to suppress. He would not risk it happening again; he’d cancel the dinner tonight and put some distance between them.

Stronger now, his composure restored, he made his way to the foyer. The receptionist stared at Benedict dumbly, although dishevelled he had never appeared more attractive, the air of vulnerability softened his usually detached expression, the opaque blue eyes softer and less intense. His body was limp as he leaned against the marble desk almost like he needed support.

“Hi, I would like to leave a message for Miss Siena Waters.”

The receptionist continued to gaze at him before realising he was talking to her.

“Sorry, sir, can you repeat that name?”

“Yes, Siena Waters.” Benedict sighed.

“I’m sorry, sir; we do not have a guest registered under that name in the hotel at present,” she said, giving him a brilliant smile.

Surprise registered on Benedict’s face as his eyes started to darken.

“Are you sure? Could you please check again?”

“Of course, sir.” She tapped at the keys once again. “No, I’m sorry, sir, there’s nothing under Waters. Is there anything else I can assist you with?” she asked, batting her eyes and smiling at him warmly.

“No…sorry, my mistake.”

Confused and annoyed, Benedict turned away. He had assumed she was staying at the hotel. Had she followed him here from their earlier meeting? No, she had arrived before him so that wasn’t possible. How did she know his hotel?