Never Summer Again

Chapter Thirty Two - Raising the Stakes

Score: Poker Face - Lady Gaga

Lydia

"What is this place?" I gape at the high ceilings, the crystal chandelier in the hall, and the massive staircase, winding on both sides of a huge fireplace ahead of us. I have visited many of London's more opulent homes, but nothing that quite measures up to this. This would make the Casterlys' flat look like a stable.

"You'll see." Mark's smug smile appears next to me, as he glides in a dance-like stride alongside me.

Elegant ladies and gentlemen are trickling into the house through the massive front doors. A very pretty brunette, wearing a red suit and obscenely high heels walks by us, carrying a mini Pomeranian in her bag. Suddenly, my eyes catch a glimpse of red lips and a platinum bob.

"Mark!" The woman from earlier today squeals, wrapping her arms around him. I scoff with frustration, not completely sure why. "I'm so glad you are here! And, who's your lovely companion?"

"Martha, this is Lydia, Lydia - Martha." Mark introduces us briefly, extracting himself from Martha's arms. I don't know if I am imagining it, but I think his expression has changed. He looks agitated, and worried, almost?

I put on a fake smile and extend my hand, but Martha ignores it and pulls me into a tight embrace instead.

I don't like to hug strangers. No, I hate hugging strangers. It freaks me out, but I put my arms around her shoulders briefly and pull away as quickly as socially acceptable.

"I'm so glad to finally meet you, love!" Martha says. "I've heard so much about you!"

"I wish I could say the same." I retort coolly. Who is this woman and what does she know about me?

She laughs and swats her hand in the air.

"I'm just an old friend of Mark's. I'm not important. But, you..." Martha clicks her tongue.

"Are late," Mark says beside me, wrapping his arm around my waist. I lift my eyes to look at his face. He's frowning. Something's happening here...

"We don't have time for courtesies. Can you please point us to our room?"

Only now I notice the iPad in Martha's hands. She smiles at me again, and then looks at the screen.

"Your spot is in room six, table four. Are you playing, love?" Martha looks at me.

"No, not tonight," Mark says, squeezing my waist a little tighter.

"Alright, then, enjoy!" Martha winks at me, flashing her dashingly white smile once again.

Mark glides his hand from my waist to my lower back and gently pushes me forward.

"Where are we going?" I whisper-shout at him. "I hate surprises, you know that!"

"Yeah, you've always been a control freak."

"I'm not a control freak, I just like to be prepared."

"Just let go, baby. Have fun," he whispers in my ear. His words immediately trigger goosebumps rising on my skin. Bloody hell, that sounded so damn sexy...

"Here we are," he points at a doorway. A framed number six is hanging next to the doorframe. I lean forward and peek inside the room. There is a big, round, wooden table, surrounded with chairs in the center. Some of the chairs are already occupied. Servers in black and white uniforms are walking around the table, chatting with the seated people.

Mark pushes me further and leads me to a couple of chairs at the table, right across from an elderly man with white hair, wearing a purple velvet dressing jacket. He winks at Mark and lifts his hand, which is holding a whiskey glass.