“We have reservations under the name, Deacon Black.”
“Hi, welcome. Let me just get you checked in,” she says, tapping away at her computer.
“Ah, yes. Here’s your key.”
She unhooks a set from the wall and slides them over the desk top. “You’re in room three which is at the top of the stairs.”
“Thanks.”
Grabbing our bags, Cammie sticks by my side and we head to our room.
It is nothing like downstairs. The décor is light with creams and golds, heavy drapes surround the four poster bed and the windows.
What it looks like doesn’t bother me, but I care how much Cammie likes it. She immediately goes for the floor to ceiling window.
“Drake, come and look at this view.”
I drop our bags on the bed and do as she asks wrapping my arms around her from behind.
The view is something, a shimmering lake under the late afternoon grey skies with the vast green hills surrounding the water.
“It’s not like London, is it,” I laugh.
“No. It is so quiet round here, it’s a shame we can only stay for one night.”
“When all this is over, we can go where we want. If something like this is what you want, you can have it.”
The woman from reception couldn’t be any more helpful with suggestions for where to go for dinner. According to her, the gastro pub is her favourite place to eat with her husband and is only a fifteen-minute walk, if we are interested in taking a stroll.
The city boy in me snorted at the thought, walk for fifteen minutes? If I am not driving, I’m jumping in a taxi. But like always, making Cammie happy is what I live for now and she will like the stroll.
“I found us somewhere to eat,” I let her know when she comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered and looking sexy in her natural beautiful way.
“Good, I’m starved after you jumped me,” she giggles.
“Oh, I’ll check in with your hunger stats next time I want to get inside my girlfriend.”
Her giggle fills the room and I lay back on the bed watching her put her boots on.
“Are you coming or not?” she asks, eyeing me scrupulously, shrugging into her jacket.
“I’ve already come thanks, but I’m ready to leave if you are,” I smirk, loving that I can still make her blush.
Shaking her head, she throws the key at me and opens the door. Jumping off the bed and locking the door behind us, I take hold of her hand and take her on a stroll like no other.
“Are you always this happy before a job?” she asks, leaning into me as we walk the short distance to the pub.
“It’s not all due to the job. Normally, I do this alone or with one or two other men who are in the same line of business as me. When I’m getting geared up, it’s usually with a couple lines of coke and very loud music…”
“I didn’t know you’ve done drugs,” she cuts in, “How come I don’t know this?” she asks.
“I don’t know why you’re surprised, babe. I wasn’t exactly a choir boy when you met me,” I point out to her again.
“I know that, I mean, I don’t like not knowing everything about you.”
“You know everything I am now,” I assure her.
“So, you won’t be doing your normal ritual of coke tomorrow night?” she asks.
I laugh, not at her but at how I always thought I’d never change my ways.
“I don’t need a chemical enhanced high, tomorrow night I am going to have the most naturalists of highs when I step into that mansion of money hand in hand with you, who makes me rush every second of every day. I don’t need that shit anymore. I have you.”
Every word is the truth.
“I think that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” she laughs.
I frown, surely that can’t be right? Comparing her to coke isn’t the most romantic notion. Okay, I’ll have to remedy that.
Dinner is quiet with locals keeping an eye on the outsiders. Neither of us drink much, both knowing tomorrow we need to be clear headed and ready for anything. Over the last month I have been filling Cammie in on what is to be expected from start to finish. I made her recite what to do in the event that we are caught at the scene, if we are caught after we flee said scene and what to expect when we exchange the diamond for cold, hard cash.
The woman back at the bed and breakfast recommendation has been what we both needed, a relaxed, quiet and intimate evening. No one stopping by our table to chit chat like back home and I haven’t felt the need to have my guard constantly up.
There is definitely something to be said about being in the country.
“Thank you for tonight, it has been perfect.”
Is the first thing I hear from Cammie as we start walking back to the bed and breakfast and she isn’t wrong.
“This is only the beginning, babe. After tomorrow, this will all become normal.”
Her cackle into the night startles me and I look down at her.
“What’s so funny?” I demand.
“You are if you think we’ll ever have normal. There is absolutely nothing normal about you and that’s the way I love it.”
“Oh, that’s alright then.”
We fall into a silence, both content to just be with one another under a black blanket dotted with stars. The calm before the storm. The calm being now and the storm being the rush of my getting my hands on a diamond I have every intention of taking from someone who paid a great deal for it and is moronically stupid enough to leave on show without protection. The fool deserves it really.
Whether a jewel or your woman, both should be protected by all costs. Both I take seriously and both this Lord doesn’t. He doesn’t know it yet, but he is set to lose both very soon.
Cammie stops suddenly and I carry on walking before I notice she isn’t by my side.
“What is it?” I ask, following her gaze to the sky.
“There are so many stars out here, we don’t get to see them really in London,” she says, in amazement.
I backtrack three steps and grip her jacket, forcing her closer to me.
“You want to look at the stars?” I ask her, looking left and right to make sure no one else is around.
“Just for a moment.”
Faster than she can track, I dip and throw her over my shoulder.
“Drake, I can’t see the stars if I’m looking at your arse,” she hisses.
“Hold up, babe. I’m getting you a better view.”
Off to the side of the road is a gate to a field full of God knows what but I manage to find a bare patch free from crops or whatever and gently slide Cammie back to her feet. Shrugging my leather jacket off I lay it on the ground and we both make ourselves as comfortable as we can.
“This is better,” she sighs, “But you’re going to freeze without your jacket on.”
“Right this minute, I can’t feel anything,” I murmur, leaning up on one elbow.
She moves her head fractionally to see what I’m doing. This moment couldn’t be any better for what I one day had planned. Her hands press against my arm as I stroke her hair away from her face.
“I told you I would marry you one day and I meant every word. I want that day to be sooner rather than later. You are my life and I want every part of you connected to me. You own me, Camila Darcy, my mind, my body and my soul, if I have one, I’m all yours. I am perfectly obsessed with you and I want you to marry me and I promise I will love you like no other man could till the day I die. I’ve never believed in the afterlife but I’m beginning to believe I’ll love you even in death.”
A stray tear falls from her eye and I use my thumb to wipe it away. I lean down and capture her mouth before she answers, I want to savour this moment of romantic bliss I believe I have delivered, for her and only her. A proposal under the stars.
“Marry me,” I breathe, pulling away from her soft, warm lips.
“Yes,” she pants.
Straightening my leg o
ut so I can reach into my jean pocket, I produce a ring fit for a fucking queen. A Tiffany pear-shaped diamond with surrounding bead-set diamonds. It’s perfect, like its new owner.
She offers me her left hand and I proudly put my first ring on her slender finger.
“Mrs Deveroux,” I whisper.
“I like the sound of that, although, if you call me Camila after we’re married, I will divorce you,” she threatens.
A short, sharp bout of laughter echoes around the field and I grab her chin, stopping her from looking anywhere but at me.
“Don’t joke about that shit, I don’t like thinking us not being together,” I warn her.
“Who said I was joking. Don’t call me Camila and we’ll live happily ever after,” she warns me, just as adamantly.
“I can deal with that.”
“Now that’s cleared up, get me back to the warm room and we can celebrate how we do best.”
I lift her hand and kiss the ring I’ve just given her and bounce to my feet.
What my woman wants, my woman gets.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cammie
The fourth finger on my left hand now owns a heavy rock, throwing light in every direction as I move my hand. It is only a piece of metal and rock, precious metal and precious rock albeit, but it signifies so much more than any other piece of jewellery could.
I take one last look in the mirror before Drake comes back up, he has been taking our bags to the car and told me he had an errand to run while I was getting ready.
I haven’t been able to look at my reflection since I pinned my hair up into a sleek, dead straight ponytail. Since we aren’t real party goers, Drake thought it would be best if I changed my hair colour. Apparently, being a brunette will allow me to blend in more. Letting my eyes roam up the mirror I take in the woman looking back. The black, floor length dress lacing around my body fits like a glove. Freshly painted black nails and smoky eye make-up to match. It is the brown and straightened hair that baffles me. Such a stark difference, I look completely different to my usual blonde, curly mess. If I didn’t know who I was, I would think I look like I belong in this rich, aristocracy world we are about to enter. My ring is the only piece I recognise and I am still coming to terms with being Drake’s fiancée.
Asking me to marry him under the stars was perfect just like the night we spent having dinner. Mind you, I would have said yes to him under any circumstances. Cammie Deveroux, it has a nice ring to it, it flows off my tongue like velvet. Cammie Deveroux.
Drake returns catching me ogling myself and stops mid step when he takes me in.
“Wow,” he breathes, “You look so different with brown hair.”
I look one last time in the mirror and try to see the beauty he sees.
“I prefer being blonde,” I mutter, self-conscious under his heady gaze.
“Regardless of hair colour, you are too beautiful for this world.”
I slip my freshly pedicured feet into the black heels I spent a small fortune on to match the dress and grab my clutch bag from the dresser.
“You don’t look so bad either, Mr Deveroux.”
In fact, he looks so good in his tux, he should be illegal to woman kind. Well, he is illegal to woman kind, he is mine and I have the ring to show for it.
“This tux looks amazing on you, I can’t wait to undress you later,” I smile coyly, moving closer to him.
“I want to kiss you right now but I don’t want to ruin your lipstick.”
“I can always reapply,” I offer, wanting his lips on mine.
Instead of leaning into my mouth, he brushes his lips across cheek bone, down my jaw line and places one soft kiss on the side of my neck.
“Time to go,” he whispers, stepping back and holding his hand for me.
“Are you sure you want to come with me?” he asks, again.
“Where you go, I go.”
The bed and breakfast is quiet as we pass through and I stop in shock when I see the car waiting for us.
It isn’t the one we came here in. A black, Lincoln town car sits idling by the bottom of the steps and Drake opens the door for me.
“Your chariot awaits, madam,” he grins.
“Where did this come from?” I ask, taking each step carefully.
“We have to look the part,” he shrugs.
He helps me in and I scoot across to make room for him. Once we are both in, the driver pulls away smoothly and it feels like the car is gliding through the darkness.
“What about our car?”
“It’s been handled,” he states and that is the end of that.
I want to ask how and when, but my trust in Drake is infinite. This isn’t his first rodeo and I am aware that this should feel wrong, but I don’t. Exhilaration fills me completely. I am excited to be doing this with him.
As Drake and I sit on opposite ends of the backseat, our hands link us together in the middle.
His eyes focus on the ring sitting proudly on my finger and I can’t help smiling at his smile.
I don’t have a job to do tonight, according to Drake, I am him plus one and here to enjoy a party. I keep that in mind and try not to think of the danger we could find ourselves in.
“Are you nervous?” I ask, quietly.
There is a screen shielding us from the driver but I’m still careful not to speak too loud.
“Nope.”
“Are you sure? Your body is humming.”
“I’m rushing, enjoying my natural high. I love this, the planning, the anticipation of the execution. Hoping it will run with no fuck ups and everything will go to plan but never knowing what is going to happen,” he explains.
“But nothing is going to happen? Right?” I urge, my heart beats a little harder hearing Drake admitting every plan doesn’t always go to plan.
“You said this is a walk in and walk straight back out plan. The easiest job you’ve ever planned, you said,” I remind him of his promise.
“Babe, trust me. Tonight will be as smooth as your fine skin,” he chuckles.
“You remember when to leave?” he asks me, again.
I nod and look out of the window, which is a pointless exercise, I can’t see a thing whizzing past us in the dark.
“Then enjoy the party and don’t worry about a thing.”
He lifts my hand and kisses it before we fall into a comfortable silence.
A little over an hour later, we drive through a large, impressive set of gates in the middle of nowhere.
“Here, put this on. Everyone will be wearing one.”
Drake produces two masks and hands one over to me. Mine is decorated with black crystals and wraps around the top half of my face. Drake’s is plain black and covers the whole of his face, leaving small holes from him to see and breathe. His dark, brown eyes blend into the blackness of the mask and it looks creepy.
Driving through the winding roads on land that must go on for miles, we arrive outside a grand, stone built mansion.
Flashing lights filter through the vast sized windows and a black carpet has been rolled out leading up to the entrance with lanterns lining each side to the entrance.
“She’s really gone all out, hasn’t she?” I say, taking every detail in.
“You’ve met Claudia, she doesn’t do subtle.”
He goes to open the door but I have one last question I have to ask. I can’t go any further till I hear his answer.
“Are you sure this isn’t a set up?” I blurt out.
“No idea, why?”
He’s so calm, it’s off putting.
“Look at this place, I can’t imagine why she wants to give it up. What has Stan got compared to this?”
“For some reason she is in love with him and it doesn’t matter what he’s got now, after tonight, he’s going to be a very rich man. Also, I imagine Stan is a more exciting option for her than Lord Pompous is.”
Lord Pompous is what Drake has taken to calling Lord Ponsonby, Claudia’s husband.
>
“You okay now?” he asks, squeezing my hand.
I nod and he opens the door. Haunting music drifts through the grand entrance and makes me shudder.
Drake hands our invitation to the security man standing guard at the doors and after a quick glance at his clipboard he allows us passage.
Our feet have barely stepped inside before a waiter wearing the same mask as Drake appears before us holding a tray of drinks.
We both take one and move on to look around. Two sets of stairs sit at each side of the foyer and curl round to the first floor. Both decorated with fake cobwebs and what looks like, skulls glistening with diamonds covering them. We continue to walk through the house, each room is decorated with a different ghoulish theme and many guests are milling about, only catching glimpse of them when strobe lights shine on them. A Halloween party really is the perfect setting for a robbery, the house is ninety-five per cent in the dark. Every male is wearing the same mask as Drake and every female is wearing the same as mine. This must be Claudia’s idea to make sure no one can tell each other apart in case someone catches what Drake and Tommy are planning to do.
We end up in the ball room last and it takes my breath away.
“Again, why would she give this up?” I ask Drake.
“Fuck knows.”
The grand room is again, mostly dark with candles burning bright and lights flashing over the area for dancing. Ghoulish, but elegant decorations surround us and the tables are difficult to see in their black coverings.
We keep to ourselves and blend in, not wanting anyone to get too close. Our night passes fluidly as we begin taking the piss out of the other guests. Listening to them talk, the ones that are in ear shot, I find they sound ridiculous. Not only their stuffy posh accents, sounding like they have a stick shoved up their arses but how they talk to each other. One woman sitting at a table one over from us, was telling another how her sister is absent from tonight’s party because she unfortunately sprained her ankle whilst horse riding and the other woman couldn’t look any bored or pitiful for the poor ankle. We overheard two other women insulting Claudia and mocking her tastes in Halloween décor. I haven’t heard one civilised, kind word said about anyone here tonight, let alone about Claudia. It seems everyone has the same impression as me.