Aster Victorious (The Hiverton Sisters #5)

Chapter One

Aster Byrne looked across the darkened space, illuminated by strobe lights and phone screens, and glowered. She was staring into the abyss and the worst of it was she had volunteered. She had attended university with the soon-to-be bride and had been genuinely surprised when she received an invitation to the hen party. Olivia had even sent Aster a private note begging she attend.

Her curiosity had been piqued. She and Olivia hadn’t been close, but when she had hinted at low attendance numbers, Aster had felt an unusual spurt of sympathy for the girl she hardly knew. How desperate must her situation be to be relying on Aster, of all people, to come out to a nightclub for a hen party?

A man was walking through the crowd towards her. She had clocked him watching her and had been about to move away when a group of girls blocked her way as they headed for the bar. They were all giggling and calling back and forth to each other, and Aster fervently prayed that he was heading for them. He was wearing all the latest gear and good looking enough, but none of that appealed to Aster.

‘Alright?’ He towered over her, one arm leaning on the wall above her head, and leant down to talk to her. He was so close that Aster could see the threads in his buttons. ‘You’re out late on a school night?’

Aster had been planning to ignore him and make her exit, ducking under his arm, but now she stared up at him in astonishment.

‘Do you think I’m underage? And you’re trying to pick me up?’

He stepped back quickly, hearing the hostility in her voice.

‘Chill. Just saying you looked young. I mean, with being short and all.’

‘Like a schoolgirl? Should I have worn make-up? Is it the freckles? Or the brown hair? Do you like it plain like this? Does it make me look more innocent? Do you like children?’

‘No. God, no.’ He was stammering, and Aster continued to stare at him coldly. Now that he had retreated, she had to shout to make herself heard.

‘Shall we call the bouncers over to check my ID?’

She may have shouted louder than was necessary. Even under the flashing lights, Aster could see him pale as he glanced over his shoulder. Then, calling her a name, he moved away and headed onto the dancefloor. Aster watched him leave and took a photo as he turned away. You never knew when it would be useful. Paedos weren’t all dirty old men.

Looking around, she wondered how much longer she could stay. Whistles was exactly the sort of place she avoided like the plague. She had never been before, but its reputation raced ahead of it. Wannabe socialites rubbing shoulders with the well-heeled and well-oiled. It was a melting pot of alcohol, avarice and ambition.

After being introduced as ‘Lady Aster’ to the large gaggle of girls, she quickly realised the reason for her invitation. Olivia was trophy gathering and wanted to show off that she socialised with the nobility. Some of the girls had made silly noises and one went so far as to ask if she knew the royal family. Aster stared at the girl until she fell silent. Then, glaring at Olivia, she headed to the bar and grabbed a bottle of water. The idea of being nobility was a ridiculous, outdated concept. Hell, she hadn’t even known she had a title until she was eighteen, when the death of a family branch meant that her eldest sister inherited the Hiverton Estate. If anything, the title was as much an embarrassment as it was a boon. She only used it when she needed something.

She had been tempted to leave the party then and there, but she was the one at fault for falling for Olivia’s sob story. Clearly, she wasn’t short of friends, just decency. Aster was cross with herself for not reading the situation properly. As a punishment, she made a bargain with herself: she would have to endure an hour before leaving.This was a mistake she wouldn’t make twice.

She checked her phone. Time seemed to have slowed down. Despite having already been here for an eternity, only thirty minutes had actually elapsed. As the DJ asked if everyone was having a good time, Aster made her way back to the bar. She lived within walking distance of the venue, so she’d walk home. It wasn’t even late and the streets in Mayfair were about as safe as you could get in London. Besides, anyone attacking Aster was in for a dreadful surprise. As the youngest of five sisters, she could scrap with the best of them. As a child, her father was concerned that her small stature put her at a disadvantage and taught her and all her sisters how to fight properly. She was ten when he died, so she turned to the lads on the street who would all spar with her.Initially, they were reluctant to lay hands on such a small girl. Soon it became a badge of honour to be able to knock her down.

Squeezing past a crowd all jumping to the beat, Aster made it to the bar. Next to her was a tall girl with waist-length blonde hair, a killer figure and wearing a Gucci jacket. She was clearly going to get served first. Turning, she smiled down at Aster and shouted over the music.

‘It’s mayhem in here tonight.’

Aster surprised herself by smiling back. The girl reminded her of Paddy, one of her sisters. Paddy used to be a catwalk model, but she was also the warmest of people and was forever starting up conversations with random strangers. They each stepped forwards as the man in front of them got served and left a space at the bar. In an attempt to balance a tray of drinks in his hands, he carefully manoeuvred past them, smiling at the tall girl as he passed her. In turn, she made a quip about what a job he had. He didn’t notice Aster.

She checked her phone. Incredibly, only two minutes had passed. The girl next to her asked for a Cosmo and Aster smiled. It was even Paddy’s favourite drink, so when the barman asked for her drink, she ordered the same. Further down the bar, a loud roar lifted over the sound of the music. A bunch of lads had clearly had too much to drink already. From the look of them, Aster figured they were up for the weekend, a school reunion, or just taking a break from shooting everything in the countryside. Hal, Paddy’s husband, had probably been much the same at their age, but she suspected Seb, her oldest sister’s husband, had probably not been such an eejit. She liked both men. They took care of her sisters and doted on their children, and that was enough for Aster. But of the two, Hal was certainly the more boisterous. There was another shout as one of the lads attempted a game of skittles on the actual bar. There was a shout of protest as a champagne bottle shot down the bar, spraying everyone as it sped past. Aster quickly snatched the two glasses of Cosmo in front of her and lifted them out of the way.

‘Boys are such idiots,’ said the taller girl. Aster nodded, holding the drinks aloft. ‘Which one’s mine?’ The two girls looked at the identical cocktails.

Aster apologised. ‘I didn’t really pay attention.’

‘Not to worry, I haven’t taken a sip yet. Lucky you had such fast reflexes.’

Aster shrugged and smiled quietly as she handed the girl one of the glasses.

Thanking her, the girl made her way from the bar and Aster watched her leave as others also turned and watched her walk by. Some creepy dude who had been waiting at the bar now slunk off after her. He hadn’t even ordered. Whistles was clearly attracting all the creeps that night. Maybe there was a special on, creeps half price. Sighing, Aster took a sip of her drink and then headed off in search of a quiet spot. She would enjoy her drink, watch people, and then get the hell out of here. She was in the middle of a collection of Orwell’s essays and couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be right now than at home, considering the dichotomy between those who knew how to grab power and those who didn’t. Wealth helped, so did birth, but ultimately some people were born to lead and others to follow. And some were stuck in a stupid nightclub because they felt sorry for an acquaintance.

Across the dancefloor she could see Olivia frantically waving at her to come and join them, so Aster turned and walked in the opposite direction until she found a quiet section on the way to the upper dancefloor. This seemed to be a perfect dead zone between the speakers from the two dancefloors. She leant against the wall and took another sip. She wished she’d brought her book, but the pockets in her stupid dress weren’t deep enough for anything other than a few fortune cookies.

From where she was standing, she could only see a few booths and a corner of the dancefloor. People were heading back and forth and she enjoyed guessing everyone’s backstory. Girls’ night out, office party, first club of the evening. One girl was traipsing along behind a group of friends and Aster spotted a fellow sufferer.

‘Ah, you’ve found my favourite spot,’ said a voice from beside her. Turning round, she saw a large man standing by the wall. He dwarfed her, even as he leant against the wall, people walking past couldn’t take their eyes off him.

He had a classically handsome face with chiselled features - high cheekbones, a strong jawline, an aquiline nose. His dark hair was just the right amount of artfully tousled. Intense blue eyes swept the room, framed by thick brows.

He wore an impeccably tailored suit that showed off his muscular physique to full advantage. Broad shoulders and muscular arms strained the expensive fabric of his jacket. His white dress shirt was opened at the neck, giving an air of a man at rest.

She blinked up at him.

‘Your spot?’ Thirsty, she took a larger sip this time.

He smiled down at her. It was like the sun emerging on an overcast day - warm, radiant, melting hearts with devastating efficacy. His deep voice had a sultry timbre that sent shivers down her spine when he spoke.

‘It’s the quietest place in the club. Some sort of dead zone.’

Aster nodded, unsure of herself.

‘I do think that if they are going to charge us so much to enter their torture den, the least they could do would be to lay on a reading room.’

Aster giggled. He smiled down at her and continued.

‘It’s not too much to ask. Surely?’

Aster took another sip, then grinned up at him. ‘A bookshelf, at the very least.’

‘Well, it would be a start. What books would you consider essential?’

Aster paused, sharing favourite books felt like an uninvited intimacy. But that was silly.

‘Banks. Xu. Austen. Cicero.’ She watched as his eyebrows raised in surprise and was pleased that he nodded along. At least he seemed to know the authors she was mentioning. ‘Although that’s not the books they’ll have on their shelves.’

‘It’s not?’

‘Of course it’s not. Look at this place. Go on.’ Aster stumbled and leant against him, giggling as she apologised and took another sip, surprised that her glass was empty. She shook her head and felt a bit swimmy. What had she been talking about? ‘The bookshelf!’ she shouted. ‘What books would they have?’

He looked down at her and Aster wondered why he was frowning.

‘Come on, you can think of something. What about How to Make a Killing in Crypto ? Verbier: A Photographic Retrospective. ’

‘ You Are Enough . Avoid Toxic Relationships.’

Aster laughed loudly and slapped him on his arm, marvelling at the size of his muscles.

‘Those are exactly the sort of books they’d have on their shelves.’

Across the way, she could see the tall girl from the bar shouting at the creep that had followed her, and she was pleased to see the sisterhood fighting loud and proud. She lifted her glass in salute and shouted out to her.

‘You tell him, sister!’

She leant back against the wall and was alarmed to discover it was moving. Throwing out a hand, she grabbed at her companion to steady herself.

‘Sorry. Think that drink was stronger than I realised?’

She screwed her eyes up, then blinked rapidly. She felt really weird.

‘Are you okay?’

She looked up at the man standing beside her, who seemed to sway. Her skin was flushed and she pulled at the sleeves of her blouse, trying to roll them up.

‘Do you want to step outside?’

Aster shook her head. That sounded like a bad idea. She wanted to sober up. That was it, she’d go to the loo and splash some water on her face.

‘Come on. Let’s get some fresh air.’

‘Okay.’

Taking her hand, she followed him out of the club. Her hand looked tiny wrapped up in his and she stumbled as she missed a step. Before she fell, he had wrapped his arm around her waist. Leaning against him, she stumbled out into the night air. She was aware of the warmth of his arm against her waist. Her sheer blouse was offering little protection in the cold air, her heart beating in her ears, and she had a sense of having been too long at sea and unable to stand on dry land.

She tried to focus and call a cab. Why was she outside? There was a man standing beside her, although she couldn’t remember where he had come from. Was he her driver? Remembering that she lived nearby, she stepped off the kerb and was once again whisked up into his arms. He was speaking to her, but her head lolled loosely and she couldn’t frame a reply.

Edward Montclair closed the door and softly made his way back to the kitchen. He hadn’t been planning on an early night anyway, but he hadn’t envisaged staying up all night to safeguard a complete stranger. Hell, he didn’t even know her name. He should have called the police, taken her to hospital, found her friends, but for some reason that he hadn’t fully processed, he’d brought her home.

From the moment he had spotted her in the nightclub, she had intrigued him. She was looking so angry, like a small storm cloud moving around the club. Amongst all the butterflies, she was bringing the rain and he was intrigued. She seemed fed up with the crowd of gigglers she’d arrived with and had quickly peeled away from them. He’d watched as she weaved through groups of strangers and laughed when she “accidentally” knocked over a pint, causing a creep to jump back in alarm from a single girl trying to avoid his attentions. She had walked across the dancefloor, not bumping into anyone and made a few rounds of the club, yawning now and then. Almost no one approached her, but on one occasion a man had started to come near. Edward could only see the man’s face and it was a picture, he had looked so confident as he swaggered towards her and then his face froze and he swerved left. She didn’t stop and he chuckled as she headed towards the bar.

There was something about her that stood out and he found himself watching her as she headed over to the only quiet spot that he had found in the whole club. From their first conversation as she joked with him about installing a library, he knew he was going to spend the rest of the evening chatting with her, swapping favourite authors, favourite books. That is if she didn’t chew him up and spit him out like she had everyone else in here.

But within a couple of sentences, he watched her disappear in front of his eyes and knew she’d been drugged. For a moment he stared, paralysed in horror, and then became so angry. That such a free spirit should have been targeted for harm. His fists clenched and then he threw his arm around her and supported her out of the club. And now here she was, drugged and unconscious in his drawing room.

He picked up the phone and waited for it to be answered.

‘John, it’s Edward Montclair – Yes, I know what time it is. There’s someone spiking drinks in Whistles. Get on the phone and alert your bar staff and bouncers – I don’t care who you’re entertaining. Do it now.’

If he could have slammed the phone down, he would have. Instead, he opened his laptop and started work. It was daytime in India, he’d be able to follow a few leads. It was an ill wind that blew no good, but as the hours passed, he found himself constantly distracted by the girl in his front room. When she woke up, he would do everything she needed. He would take her home. He would see that she was safe, and then he would track down the man that had done this to her and annihilate him.