Palmer: Fashion Week Ch. 06

Chapter 6 — THURSDAY NIGHT — Volkov throws a party

The Smoke Stack was a tall and narrow club, designed to resemble the inside of a bloated factory tower. The building from the outside was made of darkly tinted glass, although even from a distance the gyrating silhouettes of dancers could be seen on every level of the club. It was the perfect location for one of Nikolay Volkov's parties.

"Cute effect," Roxie commented, pointing to the white smoke spilling off the roof of the club. "Dry ice, maybe?"

Palmer shrugged. He didn't know. He didn't care.

Despite the agreement he'd reached with Sandra Wilson, he couldn't help but feel the evening was a waste of time. He'd do everything she'd asked of him, but knew that the only serious way of getting any meaningful information on someone like Volkov was to get close to him. Really close to him.

Jennifer Finney might be a good cop for all he knew, but she didn't have the necessary experience to go undercover against the devious Russian. If anyone could it was Roxie, but that thought gave him the chills. He wasn't about to allow anything that stupid to happen.

He glanced at the two women as they walked side-by-side into the club. Each was beautiful, in her own right. He still hadn't become used to the way Roxie dressed, but put that down to the conservative element in him. Her pinstripe white sheath dress was both classical and sexy at the same time. He'd been so mesmerized by the plunging neckline that it had taken a while to fully appreciate how short it was.

Jenn's outfit was equally stunning. The champagne-coloured halter dress covered just enough of her full breasts to remain on the right side of decent. Even so, her tanned cleavage looked like it wanted to burst out of a plunging neckline that was held in check by a keyhole clasp. She could more than match any model there tonight.

The dimly lit club's interior was circular, and opened all the way up to the roof, save for the ringed platforms that marked each of the seven stories. Low-lying tables dotted the far side, each decorated with a hookah and a group of beautiful models. Everywhere else was filled with excited people dancing to the throbbing electronica.

The sweet smell of the hookah's flavoured tobacco assaulted Palmer's nostrils as soon as they were inside. His Vice Squad instincts quickly kicked in, his senses processing the smell quickly before dismissing it. There was possibly some hashish mixed in, but more likely than not they were clean. At least on this floor.

He'd reserve judgement until he'd explored the rest of the club.

"Okay, let's circulate," he said to his two female companions.

He should have felt the luckiest guy in the world to be chaperoning two such beautiful women. But the sense of foreboding that had been steadily growing on their journey to the club was hard to shake off.

*

Roxanne watched Jack head away across the room and then grinned at Jenn. He was the sexiest guy in the world when he went into full-investigative mode. They'd agreed to separate once they reached the club, see what information they could individually gather, and then meet up again later in the evening.

For a while, at least, she intended to remain at Jenn's side. She could sense how nervous her new friend was, although that wasn't the only reason. She was feeling nervous at the thought of bumping into Nikky Volkov here, especially after her 'initiation'. And he wasn't going to be happy when she told him she wasn't signing the contract.

Grabbing Jenn's hand, they headed towards the glass-capsule elevator that slowly crept up and down the wall of the cylindrical club. One of Volkov's security men was stationed in front of it, but he stepped aside as soon as he recognised Roxanne.

"Miss Lopez," he nodded in awe, immediately summoning the lift. "Good to see you again."

"And you, Gerry," she smiled, ignoring the way his gaze flickered across her body, and then covered Jenn Finney's too, just for good measure. "Is there any particular floor you'd recommend?"

"All different, all the same," he said with a shrug. "The bedrooms are at the back of the top floor."

"Thanks," Roxie smiled, and then pulled Jenn in with her when the lift doors opened.

"Bedrooms?" Jenn asked, her eyes wide. "Does that mean what I think it means?

"Sure does," Roxie replied, giving her a wry smile.

A shiver ran up her spine. Bedrooms were an essential part of nights like this, especially where there were rich and influential clients to be cultivated. She'd been in quite a few during her Dominic DeVere days. Had regularly been the centre of attention in some...

*

Jenn felt the nerves bounce around her body as the lift slowly carried her and Roxie up the side of the club. She told herself to feed off them, that they would make her stronger. They were the same nerves that had told her she couldn't pull off the role of a model when she'd first arrived in Dubai.

Yet she had. So maybe she could pull this off too?

She didn't want to head back to London without something for her efforts here. It was important to her and her future career that she proved her value. Besides, Sandra Wilson was relying on her.

She felt stupid for showing surprise over the bedrooms. Of course there were bedrooms. This was the world she'd stepped into, one was part of now. It felt like she was in a parallel universe, one that was inhabited and dominated by men like Nikolay Volkov.

And, until yesterday, by Tony Yamamura...

That thought sent a cold shiver through her core. Roxie must have felt her reaction, because she squeezed her hand reassuringly as they stepped out of the lift.

"Are you okay?" the redhead asked.

"Sure," Jenn said, with a slight nod of her head.

She'd been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she wasn't even aware of which floor they'd stopped on.

Hopefully, she would be able to make contact with Michelle at some stage this evening. She still felt like the Korean American model could be her key to getting the information she needed on Volkov and his activities. But there had to be others here tonight who could help her. She intended to seek them out.

"Come on, let's get ourselves a drink," Roxie suggested.

Jenn followed her, watched the sexy way the redhead's ass move in her tight dress, admiring the way the pinstripes followed the rich curves of her hips and thighs. She seemed to glide across the floor lazily with that model-learned stride, one foot in front of the other, slender hips swaying.

With Roxanne, everything seemed to come naturally. Would she ever feel as confident as that?

The music didn't seem quite as loud up in the bar area on the other side of the room—she could hear herself think—but the sweet smell rising off the hookahs was much different. Stronger.

Much more illegal?

This floor was completely different to the one they'd just left, although the decadent atmosphere was just as heavy. What had Gerry, the security guy said about each floor? "All different, all the same..."

This one was made up almost exclusively with gossamer curtained alcoves around the side and a small but very busy dance floor in the centre.

Once they had their drinks—Cosmos—they casually wandered around the fringes of the dance floor, deciding on their next steps. When they passed one of the alcoves on their right, Jenn felt Roxie stiffen.

The curtains were partly open and two models were taking turns doing what looked like two lines of cocaine off the table infront of them. The blonde model had just taken a hit and tossed her long, wavy hair back, pinching her nose as the powerful narcotic washed through her.

"Shit, that's good stuff," she commented to the other, before noticing the two women watching them. "Want some?"

Roxanne shook her head disapprovingly as she swung around on her heels.

"You've done it?" Jenn asked, those big brown eyes wide again.

"Once upon a time," the redhead reluctantly said. Drugs and modelling went hand-in-hand, after all. "Those days have been behind me ever since I met Jack."

She glanced towards the dance floor. It was full of attractive dancers flailing their bodies to the heavy music. Beautiful models had always known how to let their hair down. One of the women, a young blonde, was particularly noticeable as people created space around her. She was dancing with an Arab guy at least twice her age.

Her tight ringlets swayed on her shoulders as she flung her sexy body around to the hip-hop beat, while her partner's hands were all over the taut expanse of skin between her little silver cami top and her black mini-skirt. It was scandalously short and fluttered about her thighs with each confident sway of her sublime hips.

"That's Sarah Ellis," Roxie whispered conspiratorially, sipping at her cocktail. "She's a young up and coming model, anxious to please."

Just how anxious quickly became clear. When she pulled the man's head down to hers and whispered something into his ear, he nodded happily and then allowed Sarah to pull him off the dance floor.

"You were wondering about the bedrooms," Roxie murmured, with a wry smile. "I think they're about to see some early action.

*

Jack Palmer wandered across to one of the nooks by the smoky glass windows on the second floor. He'd spent time on each of the seven floors now, casually checking out who was there and listening in to the various conversations. The only common denominator was that the news of Tony Yamamura's death had spread rapidly. Not that his demise had stopped people from enjoying themselves. Even those who knew Yamamura still seemed to be in party mood.

Three beautiful women were talking next to the windows near him. The table beside them was littered with martini glasses filled with various coloured liquids. One of them—an attractive brunette who reminded him of Penelope Cruz—smiled brightly in his direction and waved him across.

"Jack, join us," she cheerily greeted him. "We all want to meet you."

When he got closer, the second model with her whispered something to the third woman. It drew a laugh. Palmer felt his cock tighten, pretty sure that her comment was sexual.

"I'm Isobel," the Penelope Cruz lookalike told him, offering both cheeks for a kiss.

Her slinky gold dress shimmered in the strobe lights and accentuated rather than hid her curves. It was practically impossible not to check out that healthy cleavage. When his eyes returned upwards, there was a cheeky smile on her face. And yet it was a smile that seemed more genuine than any other he'd received tonight. Did he know her?

"I'm a friend of Roxie's," she explained, stroking his forearm. "I've photographed her a few times. She's told me all about you."

Of course! This was the 'Izzy' that Roxie had mentioned. She'd also been the photographer at Jenn's Clinique shoot.

"Ladies, I'd like you to meet Jack Palmer," she said, leaning close enough for him to feel her body heat. "Jack, this is Françoise and 'Faye,'" she added, laughing at some inside joke. "Girls, this is Jack Palmer, Roxie's latest beau."

"Does he speak?" Françoise teased, eyeing him up and down.

Her accent was French, but Palmer had figured as much without having to hear her speak. From her dark, wavy hair fashioned with short bangs across her high forehead, to her round face adorned with sculpted cheekbones and an elegant nose, she just looked ... French.

"Trust me, he doesn't need to speak," Faye chuckled, her dreamy eyes narrowing as she gave him the once-over. "Jade has told us all about him."

The two women burst out laughing again, while Isobel sent him a good-natured smile.

"We're all impressed with what we've heard, Jack," Faye went on, dipping a finger in her glass and then making a show of stirring it in the cocktail before seductively sucking on it. "And want to know when it's our turn."

Palmer didn't colour easily, but he felt his face redden. There was temptation everywhere in Volkov's world. And while he'd—finally—come to terms with that night with Roxie and Jade, the thought of it being discussed among other models didn't sit easily with him.

"A man that blushes, Jack Palmerrr," Françoise chided in that sexy French accent, elongating his surname. "How unusual. Tell me, Jack, do you dance as well as you fuck?"

"I don't—" he began, but suddenly the two women had hold of a hand each and were pulling him towards the dance floor.

"Don't tell," Françoise interrupted him. The corners of her mouth were turned up in a tempting smile. "It's much better to discover these things for ourselves, mais oui?"

*

"I don't think I've met your friend," a sultry voice said behind them.

Roxie turned to see Jade beaming at her. The model looked as hot as ever in a cream trapeze dress that made her black skin look like midnight. She looked extra-beautiful in a room of beautiful people.

"Jade!" Roxie exclaimed, running her gaze across her friend's fabulous body. "You look stunning in that dress. "Gaultier?"

"Thank you," the African model said, delightedly. "You've always had a good eye. You look beautiful, too, lover. So does your friend. Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"This is Jenn. She's an up and coming model. Keep your eye on her."

"I've had it on her all night," Jade teased, turning her dark, smouldering eyes on the brunette. "Hi, baby, you are stun-ning!"

"Hi," Jenn self-consciously grinned back.

She was getting used to being complimented this evening and her confidence was building with each greeting. But even so, having someone this hot flatter her was almost embarrassing.

"Great party," she added, more to deflect attention away from her appearance.

The guys in the office would never believe she could wear a dress as skimpy as this one to a party. Heck, they'd even have trouble believing that someone like her could actually fit in to a party like this.

"Indeed it is," Jade said, flicking her fingers through her dark hair as she laughed. She held up her glass. "May nights like this never end!"

The three women clinked their glasses against each others, toasting the words, and then Jade was talking to her again.

"You did that Clinique shoot with Michelle, right?"

Jenn nodded. A few people had mentioned the photo shoot tonight. It seemed that word got around very quickly in these circles.

"Shame about Tony," the African model added, pulling a face. "Not that I ever had that much to do with him. But we've all had run-ins with Michelle. Right, Roxie?"

Roxanne pursed her lips.

"Jenn and Michelle got on just fine at the shoot," she settled for saying. "And from what I hear, Clinique were delighted with the outcome."

"I heard that, too, Jade said with a smile. "So, we have a new star amongst us."

"I don't know about that," Jenn said bashfully.

Her comment drew a hearty laugh from the other two.

"Jenn, honey, let me give you one word of advice," Jade told her. "In this business, rule number one is never, ever turn down a compliment. It creates the wrong impression."

Jenn grinned back at her. She'd never been comfortable with compliments, not even when she'd been a little girl.

"All advice is gratefully received," she said, with a smile.

"And rule number two," the ebony skinned model added, pausing momentarily while she took another sip of her drink, "is never to take advice, especially from me."

All three women laughed out loud at the quip.

"Look," I'm going to see if I can find, Jack," Roxie suddenly said, giving Jenn a meaningful look.

She had no intention of seeking out her boyfriend, but she and Jenn had just agreed it was time to go their separate ways when Jade had interrupted them. They'd give it an hour of socialising before meeting up again and comparing notes.

"Can I leave this girl in your capable hands?" she said, glancing at Jade.

"Only if you want her corrupted," her friend said, chuckling out loud as she kissed Roxie on her cheek.

She watched the redhead head off across the floor, before turning to Jenn.

"Just look at the way she moves her ass," she said, her voice almost a purr. "She's gorgeous, isn't she?"

Jenn nodded. "She's beautiful."

"And bi," Jade mischievously added, with an exaggerated wink, "So, if you have any thoughts about her and Jack, my advice is to go for it. I can tell you from personal experience you won't regret it."

Jenn's big brown eyes widened. She felt shell-shocked. Was this woman being serious? She'd been with Roxie and Jack?

"It's true," Jade chuckled, bouncing her eyebrows suggestively. "They make a great team. The thing is, Jenn, casual sex is a way of life in this business. We're all beautiful models, right? Why shouldn't be take advantage of what the good Lord gave us? If you've any hang-ups about sex, you're in the wrong industry, honey."

"I don't have hang-ups," Jenn quickly retorted.

She didn't. Did she? She could just be a little bashful at times. Her experience with her ex-husband had taught her to be careful with men.

"Then you and I are going to be great friends," Jade said as she hugged her, making sure to push her full breasts against her new friend. "Now, as you're the new girl on the block, tell me if there's anything I can help you with. Anything you'd like to know about the business?"

Jenn's pause lasted only a couple of seconds. Was this the opportunity she'd been looking for?

"Well, I was wondering about Nikky Volkov," she asked casually, looking again at Jade, whose dark eyes were warm and inviting. "What he's like, you know?"

The African model's grin widened like the proverbial Cheshire cat. She plucked an olive from her glass, rolling it on her tongue and then crushing it between her teeth before responding.

"Well, honey," she slowly said, stepping even closer. "You're asking the person who knows him as well as anyone..."

*

Nikolay Volkov stood at the bar on the club's top floor, enjoying his glass of Scotch. Boris stood by himself at the other end of the bar, trying but failing miserably to blend in with the surroundings. The blonde German was exceptionally good at his job, but had no social graces whatsoever. Not that it mattered. It paid to have Boris around, but Volkov doubted that he'd need his bodyguard tonight.

He'd spoken personally to each of the key contacts he'd invited to the party, kept the business discussions brief but to the point, and then ensured their individual needs would be looked after by the red-hot model he had lined up for each of them.

Now he was free to concentrate on other matters.

He'd despatched Jade to meet up with Jennifer Finney, the undercover cop, and set her up with a well- built guy brought in for the purpose. When it got out that one of the London Met's detectives had taken drugs and been fucked by a small-time local crook, her reputation would be destroyed, as would the Met's.

She'd arrived at the club with Roxanne and that irritating boyfriend of hers, Palmer. He still had big plans for Roxie, but she was of secondary importance tonight. Michelle Park took precedence...

The Korean American model was sauntering across the floor towards him right now, shooting him the sexiest of smiles on the way. He still hadn't made up his mind about her, but he needed to form a view very quickly. If she was a threat, he'd stamp on it instantly. If not, well, maybe he'd bring her into the fold.

She was no supermodel, despite the title she'd earned. She didn't have that ... diamond quality. And by all accounts, her fifteen minutes of fame had gone to her head. He could see the attitude in the way she walked towards him. It was written all over her arrogant poise as she approached; the one that said: I'm the shit and any man should consider himself lucky just to look at me.

That reputation was why he'd allowed her career to meander along.