#Forfeit: The Ultimate Game of Dares (Rewrite)

Chapter Five

I’m ignoring that and picking you up at 7.

Daisy laughed at the latest text from Xander. For two weeks, they’d swapped endless messages all instigated by her daily decisions that going to the party was a really bad idea because Finn might find out. But each evening, she’d receive a text from her new friend as he sailed around the Med on a super yacht and be reassured the party would be okay, more than okay.

Besides, school had closed for the summer and she’d finished Clara’s bathroom – didn’t Daisy deserve a treat for all that hard work?

Absolutely.

She also deserved a kick-ass outfit.

One day, she’d be able to shop at Net-a-Porter again, but in the meantime, she’d settle for its second-to-none, dressmaking inspiration. After a lengthy online window shop left her with a strapless playsuit in mind, she splashed out on one and a half metres of black silk, dug out her sewing machine and put her fashion degree to good use.

The Net-a-Porter version had Swarovski crystals dotted around the hem of the shorts, but Daisy made do with clear glass beads – no one would know – and teamed with her black Louboutin heels, the effect was perfectly VIP clubbing.

‘Xander’s here– Jesus Christ.’ Clara stared at her. ‘You look fabulous. You two will so end up in bed again.’

‘No, we won’t,’ Daisy replied, adding yet another layer of mascara. ‘We’re just friends.’

‘Whatever. He said you’ve got the sexiest arse he’s ever seen, right?’

‘He was drunk, that doesn’t count.’ Daisy paused in front of the mirror. Why would Xander fancy her, really? Okay, she was no horse, but there were way hotter girls out there, girls who’d fall over their endless legs to get to him. Daisy stood at five foot four if asked but five foot two with her curls flattened. And her face could hardly be described as incredibly beautiful.

‘Why else would he invite you to the party? Twenty-two year-old boys answer to the beck and call of their dicks.’ Clara’s eyes widened. ‘Think he’s after your divorce settlement fortune?’

‘Ha, ha. And as if he’d need it. His cottage must be worth half a million and he’s got a six month-old, top of the range Golf GTI – do you reckon his parents pay his insurance? Lucky bugger. I mean, how loaded must they be? The Oscar’s Bar & Bistro empire has eleven bars around the country now.’

‘I still think he fancies you.’

‘Well, he knows I’d say no.’

‘No, you’ll get drunk and screw him again. It’s better to regret something you’ve done...’

‘...than something you haven’t.’ It had been their mantra throughout university, but as Daisy teased her curls, making them more enormous than usual, she met Clara’s eye through the mirror. ‘We’re just friends. It won’t happen.’

‘Bet you twenty quid, you shag him tonight.’

‘Bet you twenty quid, I won’t. He’s promised no shagging.’

‘Just don’t fret about HMS Rousseau if he breaks that promise.’

Daisy held up a three-finger salute. ‘Brownie’s honour.’

   

But what did the kick-ass little black playsuit get from Mr Golding? He leaned against the doorframe and shrugged.

‘You’ll do,’ he said.

There wasn’t even a cheeky wink, but mercifully he was too busy peering back at the roadside to see her disappointed pout.