The One Awakened: Book 1 in The One Trilogy (17 page)

I wander into the little kitchenette at the back of our studio and ready our drinks. I still haven’t replied to Seb’s text and wonder where he is at the moment. My thoughts are interrupted when Colin comes hurtling through the door.
“Oh. My. God.” His hands are held up in front of him and move dramatically, pausing with each dragged out word. “What a weekend. Did you go out Babe?”
He looks at me for the first time properly. “What the hell’s up with your face? I know I’m late and I know we have The Ashton thingie but I had to get my hair blow-dried for it. Please don’t be mad!”
 

He whines and despite my gloomy mood, I smile and relax a little. Pouring out the teas, I add another bag to a china cup for him. “Your hair looks fab Hun. I’m not pissed at all, just glad that you’re here and ready to blow this one out of the park.”
“I’ll be happy to blow James Marcell,
in
the park, if it will help us get more work, the man is blu…ddy gorgeous,” he comments seriously in his camp Yorkshire drawl.
I chuckle. “Er no, that’s not necessary Darling, not until this job is done.” Reprimanding him lightly. “Colin Duttine, you are a raging hormonal, proud, gay man, but we need this job and there will be no extra curricular activities with it.”
 

He had history in this department. Bless, he was fucked if he ever got kidnapped. Stockholm syndrome seemed to take effect with every difficult male client we took on. The more pernickety the boss, the deeper he fell... well until the next contract anyway.
Col pouts prettily but grabs his and Jackie’s cups and wiggles his way out towards his desk throwing out, “Someone didn’t get any…again, this weekend!” in a petulant snide.

“Hey, no fair, actually I kind of did but I’m not sure what to do with it now.”
“Stop the bus. You dirty bitch, tell me everything.”
 

I suddenly remember the embarrassing ringtone. “You need to leave my phone alone you naughty boy.”
 

“Ah you liked this one did you? Very appropriate me thinks…”

“Col - leave my phone be - Finn could have heard it!” I give him my best schoolteacher face but his fluttering eyelashes undo me.

“Soz Babe - tickled me pink - I nearly set your text to ‘me
fucky sucky’
but was actually thinking about the boy then, so played it safe.”

“No more.”

“Yes Boss. Who heard it?”

“Sebastian.”

Col clasps his hands together at this tidbit and hollows his cheeks dramatically. “Well…
 
my lovelies, my work here is done. About fucking time you two got it on - you did didn’t you?”
 

God, Colin is funny. He really was a tonic on a crappy Monday morning but I am not about to divulge my inner most thoughts to such an opinionated gossip, even if his opinions were probably correct. I’m just not ready yet, but maybe a little teaser…
“No. I’m not divulging.” I say firmly. “There is a time and a place and now is not it! Needless to say, I never would have thought that Sebastian Silver, my best friend of years, would be such… a good… kisser.”
 

Bullshit - you always knew he’d be amazing!

I shrug off the comment and bite my lip in memory, instinctively rubbing my thumbnail along my bottom lip with the concentration. I’m overwhelmed by short film snippets of the live sex show that was my life on Saturday night, replaying in my mind. I feel myself growing warm with the memories and at the same remind myself that I’m acting like a giddy teenager!

“Party pooper!” Colin shakes his head and tuts but thankfully lets it go – he obviously hasn’t noticed the heat generating from my vicinity.

“Oh Lucia before you go, I forgot to mention there’s a delivery arrived for you from Fresh Water Couture!” Jackie yells across to me, with an excited raise of her eyebrows.

“Lucky Bitch – someone’s flashing the cash.” Colin’s mouth is reduced to a small bum hole in annoyance.
 

I giggle at his pretend spitefulness and head over to Jackie who disappears underneath the reception desk and hands me a long narrow black velvet box, tied with a red satin ribbon.
 
Like an excited little girl on Christmas morning I make fast work of untying the elegant fastening. Fresh Water Couture or FWC as the beautiful, monogrammed crest is branded, is a luxury boutique florist in the centre of Lords and my favourite of all time!
 

I ease the velvet lid off and peer inside. Sitting on silver branded tissue paper, is a deep red, almost black velvet rose, its stem continually supplied with water for its transit by a small glass vial at the base of the box. I marvel at the beauty and simplicity of the bud. Its blood red and plum petals are nestled softly against the lush fabric and a diamante Swarovski crystal is pinned in the centre of the stigma, where the rose is a pure ruby.

I take a moment to take the lovely gesture in.
 

It’s completely interrupted by Colin’s petulant sulky voice. “Well? Who’s it from Lady boss? Do tell? We’re waiting here on bloody baited breath!”
Underneath the silver tissue, I reveal a minute envelope, which houses a thick cream note card with a printed message, in a beautiful scripted font.
 

It reads…
 

I hear my breath hitch, as I gasp and quickly remembering where I am, then smile and hold the note up to rest on my lips in thought.
 
How lovely & romantic and so unlike Sebastian – or maybe not? I’d never been privy to this sexier side of him.
 

“Well? Don’t keep us hanging?” Colin practically screams at me.
I return to Jackie and Colin’s desperate stares. “I’m not sure. There’s no message.”
 

My reply is tinged with guilt, as I tap the side of my nose coyly. This is met by a resounding noise of boos and hisses but I laugh them off, and grab my bag, placing the card safely and secretly inside and the rose back into the display box. I pat the note through the fabric of my Gucci and slap Colin’s behind.
“Chop Chop my lovely. Time to go woo Mr. Marcell.”
 

Colin is alert and ready within seconds, making wooing sounds similar to the coo of a pigeon; he’s completely off his rocker! I burst out laughing again. I knew the mention of our male client would put a firecracker up his tight little behind and change the subject, swiftly diverting attention from me to him – his favourite subject matter!

Cruising along the long sweeping gravelled path, up to The Ashton, Colin whistles loudly next to me in appreciation. I grin knowingly, as I’d forgotten that he hasn’t been to the hotel yet. He’s worked on the project for a few weeks now, but only from photographic evidence in the studio, as I had taken the initial briefing last month.

“It’s fabulous isn’t it?”
 

I still couldn’t believe we had the chance to add this place to our portfolio. I really couldn’t mess this one up. Our overdrawn business account was counting upon it.

“It’s the bloody bomb!” he yells giddily. “Ooh, am I going to have to have a wild passionate night here!” He rubs his dancing hands together excitedly and wiggles his shoulders, first left then right. “I’m totally emosh!”

I glance from him back to the hideaway haven, which sits majestically in front of us; its Regency Style design appears both traditional and contemporary, due to the recently sandblasted stonework. The result is clean and fresh and showed the four huge Tuscan columns, which supported the Portico central front porch, to perfection. There are two huge semi-circled turrets and dozens of beautiful floor to ceiling picture sash windows, which wrap around the Pride and Prejudice style architecture. The effect is breathtaking. All it needed was Mr. Darcy to walk, dripping from the nearby tranquil lake, in white shirt and breeches and I’d be completely in heaven. Colin would have to fight me for him.

“This really is out of this world!” Colin comments again dreamily as I swing my Audi into what I hope is an allocated space. We head up to the huge twelve foot double doors, which are painted a glossy black and flanked by two pretty bay trees in black and chrome steel planters, each tied with a white ribbon. The door is instantly opened, allowing entry to one of the grandest hallways I’ve ever seen and our names promptly taken; the efficiency from start to finish is exemplary. Colin has noticed it too, as he pulls his Kenneth Williams face at me and I disguise my unprofessional, escaping giggle.

The Reception continues the monochrome theme, with regency busts, pillars and high-shine marble black and white tiles. In the centre of the room a huge glass circular table sits with the largest black & white striped rococo urn I’ve come across. It reminds me of a huge humbug and is filled with all kinds of fresh flowers, lilies, roses and hydrangeas, all pure white and neatly packed around cascading ivy, which spills out of the vase and onto the tabletop.
Pure elegant chic –
I am decidedly buzzing with creative inspiration.
Directly above the table is a magnificent smoked crystal chandelier and similar lighting adorns the walls. The chandelier is more modern than would be expected and a teardrop design; at a guess it would be about ten feet high and is truly a focal piece; its hundreds of bulbs winking above, each like individual high carat diamonds. The main lighting is cleverly hidden behind shelving and with littered glass hurricane lamps, giving what could be a cool interior the warmth required to relax its clientele. I look upwards to the domed ceiling, where the light seeps down through a turret of glass and then lower my focus with an immediate reactive gasp at the beautiful long staircase. Separating into two further mini staircases on the landing, both left and right it then flows out at the bottom, like a regal bride’s veil. The central part of the stairs is protected by a ream of black and white striped thick pile carpet, which rolls over the marble steps, secured by chrome and crystal stair rods. The effect is exquisite. It would make a fabulous wedding venue.
“I wonder who worked on this place before us?” Col thinks out loud, echoing my own thoughts, whilst ogling his surroundings.
“I’m not sure Hun but they did a fabulous job – although I think a lot of the inherent parts of the building should be grateful to the original regency designers; this floor for example – it aint new! It might have been re-vamped but the fundamentals were definitely already here.”
Colin hmm’s his agreement and we continue to explore. We are happily surveying each nook and cranny and soaking up the inspiration, when we’re collected and taken into another room, branded on its plaque as The Library; a complete contrast to the hallway, where its clever use of colours and textures have created a hip boutique feel. It was all, sultry and decadent rather like its Owner, speak of the devil. There relaxing on a plush purple crushed velvet settee, with crystal haberdashery buttons and oodles of fur and silk cushions sat a cross-legged James Marcell. He looked like he was posing for a Sunday Times photo shoot. I feel Colin melt next to me. God help us.

After a delicious and unexpected afternoon tea, with fluffy scones, thick strawberry-jam and clotted cream, accompanied by a steaming pot of Yorkshire Tea, I sigh in sheer delight. Then, reminding myself that we are not there as guests but to in fact work, I gently push my rather relaxed potential client to review our design mood boards. I’m starting to wonder if this may have been more of a
tricky tea
for James, as his ruddy cheeks flush deeper.
“So James, what do you think?” I ask apprehensively, hoping that my keenness to obtain this project isn’t too apparent to the client.
I watch his over-collagen enhanced face for any positive sign. I was hard to tell, as his obvious love of Botox has meant that his tanned but very smooth face, only really offered one expression. The presentation has been delivered really well, if I say so myself. The rich velvets, pewter’s, reds and grey’s appear to be a huge hit, going by the many
Oooh’s
and
Ahh’s
throughout the spiel. My suggestion to add a large open fire in the sitting room to the suite have been welcomed with enthusiasm and the only thing now we had to agree upon was the Designer’s Guild fabric for the furniture - oh and the budget, of course.
Finally the boss speaks.
“Simply put Lucia, it is wonderful and just what we are after here at
The Ashton.
You really have done a fabulous job.” He places a well-manicured hand on a thick swatch of Scarlet velvet and flicks his eyes back over the sample of £100 a roll, black-flocked wallpaper.
“Perfect,” he mutters to himself, deep in thought.
I glance at Colin who is now mouthing to me, “In the bag. In
THE
bag!” as though he’s suddenly working as a speech therapist. God he doesn’t do subtle!
I nervously fiddle with a stray piece of hair that’s worked its way loose from my up-do and raise my eyes to focus on the beautiful ornate cornicing around the room. When at last, I hear him clear his throat and removing his red thick-framed designer glasses, he looks directly at me, and nods, straightening his back on the sofa.
“When can we start?”
I exhale the breath I’ve been unknowingly holding and stand up, smoothing out my navy Roland Mouret
moon
dress. Yes! We did it. In my head, I hi-five, someone,
anyone,
in utter triumph. Where was Finn when I needed to do a victory dance? He always joined me in a mutual admiration boogey.
“I can have the builders in to knock things about within the next 2 days. I’ll finalize some building quotes for you this afternoon and re-check their company schedules, then e-mail them across. Providing everything goes to plan, and what’s behind those walls is what we think is behind those walls, we could be finished in the best part of four - six weeks.”
James bobs his rather narrow head up and down, in all the right places. “Wonderful Lucia. You really are as good as Malcolm told me.”
I make a mental note to thank Mal, for the referral. I’d recently completed refurbishing his small Bed and Breakfast,
Rooks Hill
and the three individually themed en-suite bedrooms are going down a storm with his customers. They are fully booked for the next six months. My own personal favourite is
The Garden Room,
with thousands of tiny twinkling lights installed into the hand painted ceiling to replicate a starry-night. The effect is breath- taking and exceedingly romantic.
I return my attention to James who then nods at Colin, who is literally standing in a puddle of drool at James’ feet.
“Right, now the tough part…budget. I love what you’ve planned but I’ll need to shave a bit off here and there to ensure there is enough in the kitty to enhance the other rooms in need of a facelift.”
He muses placing his glasses back on to peruse the mood boards once again. “If we call it £80K for the Honeymoon Suite budget? Does that work?”
I am so relieved that he is being realistic and I move to shake his outstretched hand immediately to seal the deal. “That is a healthy budget James and fair for the luxury that you expect and the room and hotel deserves. You’ve already had my quote for Elysium’s fee…Yes? That would be in addition to this budget, however.” I need to get this part in, as I’d been stung in the past.
James agrees. “I’ll have my PA send you a completed, signed purchase order by the end of the day.”
I mentally relax. Uncomfortable part is over. Now the hard work, but also best bit begins. I can put my designs into motion and create!
“Colin, do you want to
come
… and help me
stretch my tape measure
around some of the other bedrooms? After the success of this meeting, I am going to
place the balls
… in your more-than
capable hands
.” James clears his throat and stands to leave.
OMG the innuendos are endless
.
I do wish heterosexuals were as obvious. It would definitely make life easier all round. Sensing there is no need for me to stay I shake hands with James again and begin to gather up my work, as he and Colin disappear; Colin sending me the OK sign over his shoulder in glee. I’m not sure I’ll see him again this afternoon.