The Seduction of Suzanne (24 page)

“Never mind. It’ll keep,” he said abruptly.

Shrugging, she switched her attention back to the rather unappetising meal in front of her. She poked at it half-heartedly while looking through the entertainment guide. Then she discovered a movie that had been highly recommended to her by several of her friends, but which she had yet to see. Gleefully she put on her headphones and enlisted Justin’s help to find the right channel using the unfamiliar control. He watched it with her on his own screen, her hand loosely clasped in his.

Both the baggage claim and customs took a long time to clear, so much so that it was nearly six a.m. before they walked through the arrivals gate. As they came through it, Suzanne saw a man approaching them, wearing what looked to her like a chauffeur’s uniform. Justin saw him too, and she felt him stiffen, and mutter a curse under his breath.

“Good morning Mr Walker. I have the car ready for you,” said the man.

“Wilson,” said Justin flatly. “What are you doing here?”

The chauffeur was surprised. “Mrs Walker sent me,” he said.

Before Suzanne could do more than make a shocked inhalation, Justin turned his head in her direction and said grimly: “My mother.” To the worried-looking Wilson he said: “Never mind. It’s not your fault. In fact I should thank you for coming out at this time in the morning.”

“You’re quite welcome, sir,” said the man cautiously. “If you’ll just let me take this.” He spoke the latter to
Suzanne, indicating the luggage trolley that she had been pushing. She surrendered it with an absentminded “Thank you,” her attention on the horrid suspicions which were growing within her.

A chauffeur.

A chauffeur who respectfully addressed Justin as ‘sir’.

She wasn’t stupid. She remembered the conversation with Nina, indicating Justin was keeping something from her. Was this it? How rich did one – or one’s mother – need to be to keep a chauffeur? Not rich enough to pay for more than economy class on a plane, apparently. Or had that choice been about keeping her in the dark?

She pinched her lips together and stalked along behind Wilson, keeping her back straight, belying the sick tension which churned in her stomach. Was she making too much of this?

When they reached the car, she saw that it was some sleek modern thing. Solidly luxurious. Wilson held the door open for them to enter the car. She went first and slid quickly across the seat, fetching up in the far corner and staring fixedly out of the window. Justin followed her into the car. Once he was seated, he reached across to put a hand lightly on her hunched shoulder.

“Suzanne?” he said softly, but she shook him off with an unmistakable gesture of rejection, and he retreated, watching her grimly. Why didn’t he explain? If there was a straightforward explanation. Like he was exactly as he presented himself but his parents had wealth. That would explain it.

Or maybe he didn’t want to say anything with Wilson there.

But as she sat there longer and longer with her own imaginings, she could feel the storm clouds gather.

Chapter Fourteen

In silence they were driven through the streets of the city. She stared dry eyed through the glass, at the urban sprawl sliding past the window, the palm trees lit by streetlights. The houses became bigger, palatial, half-glimpsed behind tall walls and through wrought iron gates. They were set further back from the street.

Finally the car turned off into a driveway. Absently she looked around, then did a double take. The white house which loomed in front of them was massive. Surrounded on all sides with velvet-smooth lawns, a wide circular drive led up to the double doors at the front. She was dumbfounded, having never seen anything like it outside of television.

Wilson pulled up in front of those imposing doors and came around to let her out of the car. She stood shakily, feeling suddenly that this couldn’t possibly be real. She hadn’t just been driven from the airport by a chauffeur, hadn’t arrived at the kind of house, no,
mansion
, that movie stars lived in, hadn’t been deliberately, manipulatively,
lied
to by the man whom she had thought she could believe in.

It couldn’t be so.

Numbly she trailed Wilson and Justin as they carried the baggage to the front door. There the driver left them as Justin lifted a hand to the bell and pressed it firmly. She heard the faint, melodic sounding of chimes within the bowels of the house. Moments later the polished wood door swung silently open in the hand of a young woman wearing a maid’s uniform.

“Good morning Mr Walker.”

“Good morning, Cathy,” he replied, striding through the doorway and into the grandiose entrance hall, which was dominated by a sweeping staircase. He gave his surroundings as little notice as if he were in the most ordinary house. “Would you please show my. . .Miss Turlin to my room.”

“Yes, Mr Walker,” said Cathy.

“Justin,” said Suzanne, making a valiant effort to keep her voice steady, “I need to speak to you.”

He glanced quickly at her, then looked into the middle distance. “I have to go and see my parents first. I’ll be with you shortly.” He strode away, mounting the stairs two at a time, and disappearing down a corridor at the top. She glared after him.

“If you’ll follow me, Miss Turlin,” said the maid, lifting one of the suitcases in a capable grip. Suzanne slung her backpack onto one shoulder and followed behind her as they too climbed the stairs, taking the opposite branch of the hallway from the one Justin had entered.

She was shown into an enormous bedroom, half
the size of her own house. It was immaculately presented, looking like one of the showcase examples in an interiors magazine. Taking it all in with a single glance, she stopped just inside the threshold.

“Would you like me to help you unpack, Miss Turlin?” asked Cathy.

“No thank you,” said Suzanne woodenly.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No thanks.” She had no idea how to dismiss a servant, and was relieved when Cathy silently left the room and she was alone.

She was in shock. She felt as if someone had been pummelling her brain. Knowing that somewhere beneath her incredulous anger there was pain, she stood rooted to the floor, holding herself in. It was all she could do to stand still, and keep quietly telling herself she should wait and listen, hear him out.

She couldn’t help feeling as if she had been betrayed.

Justin came from a family with money.

Not just a little money, not a respectable, middle-class amount, but bucketloads.

A huge house, on a large piece of property, in a wealthy suburb of LA. Beautiful, expensive furnishings. Servants.

He was not the man she had thought he was. He wasn’t a casual surfer, a footloose wanderer with few ties. All this time he had known that she believed him to be something he was not, and he had let her remain steadfast in that belief. Never had he corrected her assumptions. Instead he’d encouraged them.

He had been stringing her along like a gullible fool. She cringed with humiliation to remember the rude things she’d said about his lack of a working life, her surprise when he turned out to be well-educated and highly intelligent.

How he must have laughed at her. How amused he must have been when she had shown concern about him buying their plane tickets.

He must have thought her the most naive little idiot.

Slowly Suzanne began to pace, fighting the urge to curl into a foetal ball and moan. ‘This is different,’ she tried to tell herself. ‘It’s not another man treating me like I’m a stupid piece of dirt who doesn’t deserve to be’ . . .honoured? Respected? What was it that felt so shattered by Justin’s opacity? She didn’t know. She couldn’t think clearly. But all those broken instincts she had fondly imagined were history now crowded round her, saying she should never have trusted. She was a fool! Lied to, misused again. And she’d walked into it with her eyes wide open. She’d known he was too good to be true.

If she had misunderstood who he was so much, how could she rely on
anything
she had assumed about his character? On anything he had told her? She barely knew him at all. He was a stranger. A stranger who had shown no compunction about concealing this truth from her. How many other lies were there?

Back and forth she walked over the luxuriant, deep pile carpet. The tortured minutes went by like hours.

She was facing the door when it swung open again and Justin walked in. They both stopped and stared at each other, he with a frown on his face. Before she could resolve the unbearable weight of her emotions into words and throw them at him, an older man and woman entered behind him.

One look was sufficient to tell her who they were, the man sharing Justin’s height and the woman with strikingly beautiful features which were a feminine version of his. Each of them carried their years lightly.

The woman came forward eagerly with outstretched hands. Automatically
Suzanne held out one of her own, and felt it warmly enfolded. “You must be Suzanne.”

Later she would wonder where she had found the fortitude, but for now
Suzanne shoved all of her hurt and anger down deep inside her, and shut it away. There was no way that she could function with any semblance of normality otherwise. Then she dredged up a smile. It felt strained and unnatural, but it was the best she could do.

“Pleased to meet you,” she said in a rather limp voice.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, dear. I’m Justin’s mother, Olivia, and this is my husband Geoffrey.” The distinguished-looking man stepped forward to shake Suzanne’s hand, his grip pleasantly firm.

“I’m afraid that Justin didn’t tell us much about you,” the older woman continued. “All we got was one scanty little email, saying that he was on the next flight home. Clearly missing out the important details.” Her meaningful glance made
Suzanne into one of those details. She shook her head scoldingly at Justin, and paused. His eyes were fixed on Suzanne. She could feel it, and was carefully not looking at him, for fear her control would dissolve if she did.

Justin’s mother went on with a bit more effort, clearly aware that all was not right. “Anyway, he tells me you’re an artist, which sounds very exciting. He’s helping you launch yourself here.”
Suzanne nodded. Thus far their stories agreed. “If I can lend a hand I’d love to. Justin has quite the eye for good painters so I’m sure you’re something special.”

Or maybe I’m just the woman he’s been banging and the whole thing about the paintings is a lie. Who knows?
Suzanne thought bitterly, but didn’t say aloud. Heaven only knew what her expression looked like though. Her face felt tight, locked in a rictus.

From his sharply indrawn breath, she could guess that Justin didn’t like what he saw. His mother persevered bravely: “I barely had time to arrange a celebratory party for tonight.”

This did get Justin’s attention. “You did what?” he asked explosively.

Clearly taken aback, she blinked, and then said curtly, “You heard me. Tonight we are having a party to welcome you back into the family. No one’s seen you in months. We’ll introduce
Suzanne at the same time. And I’ll thank you not to take your bad temper out on me, if you please.”

“Sorry mom,” he said in a much more controlled tone. “I’m just concerned that it will be a strain for
Suzanne after our long flight, and with the time difference as well.” Suzanne saw the lies in action this time, knowing what really concerned him. And he was smooth. Very smooth in fact. She wanted to vomit.

“Goodness me, I hadn’t thought of that.
You
never get jet lagged,” said Olivia, looking chagrined. “I suppose I could cancel it again.” Her expression was dubious.

“Oh, please don’t,” said
Suzanne. “After all, I got plenty of sleep on the plane, and I can always have a nap sometime today. I’ll be fine. Don’t cancel for my sake.” She spoke on contrary impulse. She didn’t care one scrap whether there was a party, but if Justin wanted to prevent it happening, she was all for the scheme.   

“Good girl!” said Olivia cheerfully. “If you want, we can go shopping and get you something lovely to wear.’

“I’d like that,” said Suzanne steadily, choosing not to be offended that Justin’s mother obviously thought she wouldn’t have anything suitable. And for the kind of party that would be hosted at this house, she was right.  Anyone looking at the inexpensive and now crumpled cotton t-shirt and shorts she wore for comfort on the plane would guess as much.

“Why don’t we all go and have some breakfast. I could do with a good cup of coffee,” said the older woman.

It didn’t feel like it was breakfast time, but as she glanced at her watch, Suzanne saw that it was indeed almost seven thirty. She, Justin and Geoffrey all obediently followed Olivia downstairs and into a spacious and airy breakfast room. The table was beautifully set with linen and crystal.

Considering what she had seen of the house so far,
Suzanne had half expected the table to be much longer, with room to seat at least a dozen guests, but instead it was a comfortable size for four. She was glad when Justin’s parents chose to sit one at the head, and one at the foot. It meant that there was no way that she could be expected to sit next to Justin. However she soon discovered that it was worse to be opposite him, much more difficult to avoid meeting his eyes.