The Honey Trap

She watched him square his shoulders and march back to the VIP area. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Angel Blackthorne. I just bloody well hope you do.

Chapter 8 (#ulink_b9dbd34b-5abc-59ed-8070-64361c37e489)

Okay, top marks for speed, Angel thought as she felt someone slip onto the stool next to her a few minutes later. But when she swung round she found it was only Leo, looking sheepish.

She should have known his temper by now. A quick flare-up, a five-minute sulk and then he’d be back to his usual self, all schoolboy charm and wearing his best hangdog expression.

‘I’m a twat,’ he said by way of an apology.

She glared at him. He’d get no disagreement from her, not unless he could do better than that.

‘I spose I should realise by now you’re only looking out for me.’ He scuffed his foot against the polished-steel crossrail of the barstool. ‘But it just makes it so difficult when I know you and Em are constantly fidgeting about, watching and fretting like – well, like you’re my mums or something.’

He raised his eyes to hers and searched them keenly. ‘Look, Angel, I know when we were together I let you down time and again, and put you through hell besides. I know it was me and only me who ruined whatever chance we had to make it work as a couple. It means a lot that you forgave me. I can be a moody sod, but I want you to know I won’t throw away what we have now. You’re my best friend and this time I promise I will fight to keep you.’

Angel blinked, touched and surprised by the rare display of affection. ‘Soppy git,’ she said. He wrinkled his nose as she ruffled the rough fuzz of black hair. ‘I thought you’d have realised it by now. You don’t get rid of me that easily.’

He looked down at his feet, suddenly bashful. ‘Alright, Ginge. You don’t have to show me up in front of all the top totty in this place. I’m losing vital macho points here.’

‘It is about time we both got back on that particular horse,’ she said, smiling. ‘The dating one, I mean. Not any other horse you might have in mind. Not that I really want to know, but how long has it been for you anyway?’

‘Oh, nine months or so, give or take a few millennia. But who’s counting, really? I’ve decided to become a tantric hippy sex celibate, actually, like Sting or one of those guys. I could live to be a hundred and thirty-five.’

‘It’ll certainly feel like that long anyway,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Come on, mate, spill. You know all about my disaster of a love life, just like every other reader of the bloody Investigator. Don’t you have any hot prospects on the horizon?’

‘Just one.’ His glance drifted to the floor and Angel bit her tongue, wishing she could take back the teasing question. For some reason she was suddenly afraid to hear the answer.

Leo looked up and his gaze, full of feeling, met hers. He couldn’t… not after they’d worked so hard to get to where they were now. Could he?

‘It’s Emily,’ he confided. Angel experienced a wave of relief she couldn’t even have begun to explain.

So that was it. Her two best friends…

‘You must’ve noticed me and Em getting closer, spending more time just the two of us. But every time it gets to the point where I feel like she might care about me as more than just a friend, she pushes me away. Then the next thing I hear she’s dating some bellend and we’re back at Mate Zero.’

Angel felt a pang of guilt. She actually hadn’t noticed, although the whole thing must have been unfolding right in front of her for months. But she’d been so tied up in her own affairs – the internship, the honey trap and its fallout – she hadn’t had a thought to spare for anyone’s complicated love life except her own.

‘Well, you know how she’s been since Peter and the way that ended.’ Angel reached out to give his back a comforting rub. ‘And you know what she used to be like before. Dating and sex she has no problem with, but when it comes to getting close, learning to trust someone…’

‘I know, I know. But I’m hitting a brick wall here, Ginge. I really don’t know where to go next.’ He sighed, vengefully tearing an unfortunate beer mat straight down the middle. ‘So how about you? Any irons in the fire I should know about?’

‘Nah. My ex was a lot to live up to.’ She grinned, perfectly comfortable with him again now the awkward moment had passed. ‘To be honest, Seb was my first since, well, whenever it was you and me broke up…’

‘Seriously?’ His dark eyes widened in shock. ‘And I thought I had it bad. You need to get yourself out there, woman. At this rate, Mad Cat Lady status beckons before you hit thirty.’

‘Not sure that process hasn’t already started, to be honest.’

Leo shook his head with mock solemnity. ‘Poor Wilchester. I never realised he’d had such big shoes to fill that night. No wonder he looks so miserable. You know what they say: once you’ve had Leo, you never – er, something that rhymes with Leo which basically means I’m great in bed.’

‘They don’t say that.’

‘Well, no, they don’t say that. Not as such.’

A low ‘hem’ at her elbow forced Angel to look around. Seb’s PR guy, looking sulky and belligerent, was trying to attract her attention. She wondered how long he’d been standing there, eavesdropping on their conversation.

‘Yes?’

‘Against my advice, Mr Wilchester has agreed to give an interview to the Investigator,’ he stated formally, refusing to make eye contact while he handed back her press pass. Angel saw Leo raise a quizzical eyebrow and she gave her head a slight shake to let him know she’d explain later.

‘My colleague will join us, of course?’

PR Guy eyed Leo with sneering dislike. ‘That was not part of the agreement. Look, darling, you’ve got ten minutes with my client, not a minute more. So I suggest you grab whatever it is you need and come with me.’

What she felt like she needed if she was going anywhere with this guy was a high-powered taser and a clear shot at his groin, but nevertheless she stood up to follow as he turned back towards the club’s VIP area. She made an apologetic face to Leo, snatched her bag and left him looking puzzled by the bar.

‘The rules will be as follows,’ PR Guy continued as she trailed after him through the dimly lit club, illuminated only by the blue LED strips embedded into the floor and bar. ‘No personal questions about my client’s home life, marriage, childhood, ex-partners, sexual preferences, family or future plans. No implications about my client’s lifestyle, nor nuanced inferences about his private life from the answers he does choose to provide. If Mr Wilchester is made to feel uncomfortable or embarrassed by any questions put to him, the interview will be terminated immediately. If I feel the questions put to Mr Wilchester will be likely to cause him future embarrassment, the interview will be terminated immediately. If –’

‘So am I interviewing him or you?’ Angel interrupted, narrowing her eyes. ‘If you’re expecting me to write some promotional puff piece for Tigerblaze Studios you can forget it. I’m not doing your job for you, mate.’

PR Guy turned to face her, glowing with resentment. ‘Let’s get one thing straight. This is a film premiere. Your questions will relate to my client’s work and the film you have just seen. Or this interview can and will be shut down.’

‘Fine,’ she snapped back. ‘Suits me. It’s his work that interests me, not his private life. Enthralling though I’m sure it is.’

They continued in sullen silence until they reached the VIP lounge. A plaited cord, rich electric blue like everything else in the place, barred their entrance. PR Guy unhooked it at one end and ushered her through, flashing some sort of ID at the burly bouncer stationed just inside.

The reality of what she was doing hit Angel with a solid drop-kick to the abdomen when she spotted Seb in a private booth, lounging in the corner of a round, white-leather sofa. He was drinking a mini milk bottle of champagne and chatting to the lead actor from The Milkman Cometh with a smile that didn’t extend to his eyes. She was relieved to see Carole Beaumont wasn’t with him.

Too late to back out now…

She took a few hesitant steps towards his table, but stopped dead in her tracks when he turned and caught sight of her. His eyes narrowed and the smile disappeared, his sculpted lips setting in a thin line. There it was, the very expression she’d been dreading: disdain, hard and unforgiving. She dug her heels into the thin black carpet, willed her posture into erect dignity, but he refused to withdraw his stare.

She could feel the PR man’s eyes burning into her from behind too, wondering what she was waiting for now she’d finally got the coup to end all coups; an exclusive audience with publicity-shunning Sebastian Wilchester. Forcing her lips into a polite smile, she pushed herself forward and into a seat at the other side of his table.

‘Thanks, George, good job with everything tonight,’ Seb said to the young actor, ignoring her. ‘You’d better go find your mum before she starts worrying. Catch up in a bit. Just have to do a quick press thing before I can socialise.’ He jerked his head in her direction.

‘You’re a martyr to it, aren’t you, Seb? Okay, see you in a little while then.’ George nodded to Angel and the PR man as he stood up to leave.

Interview! Shit! She really hadn’t thought this far ahead. Here was Seb, eyes thrusting a thousand knives in her direction, and the Tigerblaze PR manager ready to shut her down the instant she went off message, and she hadn’t thought up a single question. All she wanted to do was get whatever closure she could by offering an apology, congratulate Seb on the film and go, never to darken his red carpet again. But she could hardly do that with PR Guy breathing down her neck.

‘Thank you for seeing me,’ she mumbled, trying not to wilt under Seb’s cool, appraising gaze.

She took out her dictaphone and placed it on the table. ‘You don’t mind…?’

‘Not at all,’ he answered, with flesh-freezing good manners and just a touch of sarcasm. ‘Always committed to helping the Investigator get its facts straight.’

The last time she’d been this close to him, his tawny eyes had been soft and heavy with post-orgasmic warmth. Now, it was obvious they could hardly stand the sight of her. Why the hell had he agreed to this? Did he just want to make her feel uncomfortable? Some sort of petty revenge?

She fumbled with the dictaphone, pressing the button to record, and pulled out her notebook.