Counterfeit love, p.1
Counterfeit Love, page 1
Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Copyright Page
It was just after nine when Lucy Yang walked into the bar. She knew that she was a little late, but a quick glance around revealed that her flatmate was even later. Again. Charlotte, like pretty much everyone in Hong Kong, was married to her job, and nights out always came with a caveat: Assuming I can get away from work in time.
Lucy eyed a free table in the softly lit piano bar and made a beeline for it. It was only when she sat down that she spotted a cute Eurasian guy sitting on his own at the next table. He had his mobile to his ear, and an untouched mojito, by the look of it, next to his right hand. The sleeves of his striped shirt were rolled up to the elbows, revealing his tanned arms. Lucy wondered if he was the standard banker type – London educated, fluent in Mandarin, with a nice apartment in Mid-Levels, the it suburb for young professionals with too much money. He probably had use of a company gin palace on weekends, a big annual bonus and a matching ego.
She watched him for a moment as he mumbled into his phone, his head down, like he was trying to keep the conversation secret. If he wanted to do that he could have just walked out of the bar. But, as he was chatting away in there, Lucy felt she had every right to eavesdrop. As a reporter for a global business news network, she never missed an opportunity to pick up information.
She casually leant a little closer, straining to hear over the piano music that filled the room. It was impossible to catch any of the conversation, but she could see that something had the guy engrossed – his brows were knotted, and he almost looked in pain. Then all of a sudden he ended the call.
Lucy quickly straightened up to hide the fact that she’d been trying to listen, but she wasn’t quick or subtle enough, because the guy’s eyes fell right on her. Lucy looked away. Totally busted. She kept her head down for a second or two before she glanced up again.
The guy was still looking at her, but he didn’t seem pissed off – he seemed almost amused, with the hint of a lopsided smile creeping up his face. He held her eyes for a moment or two and then looked towards the doorway, serious again. Lucy tried not to stare, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. It wasn’t his cute face that fascinated her, it was the way he ran his hand through his hair, then drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes flicking between the doorway and his mobile. He seemed really on edge. Lucy felt goosebumps spring up along her arms.
Hel-lo Cute Serious Guy, Lucy thought. Looks like you’ve got something on your mind. Want to talk about it?
Lucy wondered what was making him so jittery. It was bound to be business – the source of all things good and bad in this city. She had no idea what kind of business that might be, but she wanted to find out. She’d definitely accept an invitation to a day out on the company boat if he needed a partner. He was bound to have a story or two tucked up his sleeve.
‘A drink?’ a waitress asked, startling Lucy.
‘A mojito, please,’ she replied, loud enough for Cute Serious Guy to hear. She didn’t normally drink mojitos – in fact she didn’t drink much at all – but perhaps her choice would give him the perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation. Instead he seemed only to have eyes for the doorway. Again his fingers went through his hair and then back to drumming the table. Lucy tried to casually catch his eye, but he was too distracted, which only made her more interested.
It was only after Lucy had been watching for some time that another possible reason for his nerves crossed her mind. He might be waiting for his girlfriend – he was edgy because they hadn’t seen each other in a while, or maybe it was a first date. Lucy wondered why she hadn’t considered that first. He was gorgeous; of course he had a girlfriend.
She looked towards the door, waiting for some leggy uberbabe to appear. Now Lucy was the one fiddling with her phone and drumming the table, totally tense. As she stared at the entryway, in shuffled a guy who looked like he’d just arrived from a time machine – he was wearing some kind of safari suit and enough cologne to gas the entire bar. Lucy was relieved that it wasn’t a red-hot model, there to meet Cute Serious Guy – until Mr Safari Suit pulled out a chair next to her.
‘Mind if I sit?’ he said after he had already sat down. He dropped a department store shopping bag down beside his feet.
Lucy shrugged. ‘Umm, well …’
She was about to explain that her friend was arriving any moment and the seat was effectively taken, but she was distracted by events at the next table. Cute Serious Guy wasn’t looking at the doorway anymore – he was looking right at her, his face more intent than ever. There was no sign of that lopsided smile; he was biting his lip. Lucy had been trying to get his attention for the past ten minutes. Why did he have to wait until that exact moment to take an interest in her?
No! she wanted to say. I’m not with this guy in a safari suit. I’m single and (almost) completely baggage free. Instead she smiled at him, but by then it was too late – he was fiddling with his phone. His timing was terrible.
The waitress arrived with Lucy’s mojito.
‘Thank you,’ Lucy sighed. She took a large gulp to lessen the pain of ending up with a strange and badly dressed old fart when she could have been sitting with a cute guy sharing mojitos and interesting stories.
Mr Safari Suit ordered a beer and then turned to Lucy. ‘A fine place to do business.’ He cast his eye around the bar and then spent a few moments studying his shopping.
‘Mmm,’ Lucy nodded, trying to edge away from Mr Safari Suit and attract Cute Serious Guy’s attention. But he was still busy with his phone. ‘It doesn’t have a view, but I like it because it’s generally quiet. You don’t find that too often in Hong Kong.’
She’d been coming to the Art Bar on the second floor of the Grand Hotel, pretty much every Friday night since she’d arrived in the city. The drinks there were actually well outside her budget, but the art deco fittings and subdued lighting were so elegant that she put up with the exorbitant prices because it made her feel like a success – even though she’d only spent three months in her new job and she knew she hadn’t quite made it. Yet.
‘Hope I didn’t keep you waiting. I wasn’t expecting you so early,’ Mr Safari Suit said, interrupting her thoughts. He picked up a few wasabi peas from a bowl on the table and began rolling them between his fingers like worry beads. ‘You’re looking very well this evening.’
Lucy frowned. What the hell is this guy on about?
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Didn’t mean to offend you.’
Lucy wasn’t offended – just confused. But before she had a chance to work out what was going on, she was distracted by a text beeping on her phone. She discreetly opened it as the waitress arrived with Mr Safari Suit’s beer.
The message was from Charlotte.
Sorry. Stuck in Lan Kwai Fong. Come down? Birthday drinks for Cassie.
Lucy sighed to herself. She needed Charlotte to walk in right this second. It was getting slightly awkward with Mr Safari Suit.
‘I hope you’re happy with the … arrangement,’ he was saying. He glanced at his shopping bag.
Lucy frowned. Who does this guy think he’s talking to? Oh my god, he doesn’t think I’m a hooker, does he? She wriggled her skirt hem down her thighs just in case. Mr Safari Suit paid no attention. He tossed the wasabi peas in his mouth and then downed his drink. Then he nudged his shopping bag towards Lucy’s feet. Lucy looked at the bag, but before she had a chance to puzzle out exactly what was going on Mr Safari Suit stood up.
‘It’s the usual order.’ He fished in his pocket and pulled out some money, which he put on the table for the drinks. Then he turned back to Lucy. ‘Thank you, Miss Chan. I look forward to doing business with you again. And may the winds favour you.’
He walked towards the door and looked back at Lucy, giving her a nod before disappearing from view. Lucy stared at the shopping bag, which he’d left at her feet.
She assessed it for several seconds, knowing she should be running after Mr Safari Suit. She wasn’t Miss Chan, some businesswoman, or whoever it was he thought she was. She was Lucy Yang, a reporter. She had to return the bag. It wasn’t meant for her.
She gave the bag a prod with her foot and then bent down to take a peek. She could see a large white envelope inside. How weird. Lucy sat back for a moment to go over what had just happened. Some dude had mistaken her for someone else and handed her a package. A strange way to do business, surely? Was there something illicit going on that required a discreet bag drop? Lucy’s heart started racing as she stared at the envelope. Maybe she had just been handed something she had always dreamt of. Perhaps the envelope was full of confidential documents. She could be sitting on a world exclusive – a ticket to the big league!
Lucy glanced sideways at Cute Serious Guy. He was talking on his phone. He seemed to be too busy to notice her now. She took a deep breath and, in the spirit of journalistic inquiry, grabbed the shopping bag. She would look over the contents later – not there in the bar, but privately, at her apartment where she coul d make a proper assessment of things. She managed to convince herself that it wasn’t stealing if there was something illegal going on. She felt certain she was going to uncover a big story – surely that justified borrowing a few documents. She tried not to think about the fact that she wasn’t just borrowing anything. There was no way to return the documents, even if she wanted to, because she had no idea who Mr Safari Suit was or where to find him.
Lucy put her bags over her shoulder and got to her feet. Beside her, Cute Serious Guy was texting. She would have loved to stay and find out his story. Some other time, she thought. Right now, she had too many things on her mind to be thinking about him.
She hurried out of the hotel bar, considered the lifts, but decided to walk down to the lobby to avoid any chance of bumping into anyone. The guy in the bad suit would realise sooner or later that he had handed his precious documents to some random girl, and he’d probably be pretty pissed off about it. He might be looking for her already.
Lucy was buzzing with excitement as she waited in the taxi queue outside the hotel. She squeezed the shopping bag, wondering what she was carrying. Was it a big order for something, or was it a merger, or an acquisition? Why was it so secretive? She could barely wait to uncover the contents of the envelope but, just as she climbed into the back of a taxi to head home, another text from Charlotte beeped on her phone.
Get your butt down to Rusty’s. Now! Yu just walked in!
Lucy shook her head. Unbelievable. How could this all be happening in one night? Yu Weiran was a media-shy multimillionaire, and she’d been trying to pin him down for an interview since she started at TVi. His staff never returned her calls or emails. Lucy had even tried dating a guy from his office to get to Yu, but the result had been the same. She’d never even set eyes on him, but she thought if she had a chance to casually chat to him over a drink, then maybe, just maybe, she could convince him to appear on TVi. That would be a coup that would definitely get her noticed at work.
Lucy didn’t have to think too hard for another reason to postpone her trip home; a guy with a serious face and tanned arms was still at the back of her mind. There was something about him that had her intrigued – something going on behind those brown eyes. She wondered if he might end up in Lan Kwai Fong, Hong Kong’s hottest nightlife area, later, too. Why not? Everyone else under thirty did.
‘Lan Kwai Fong, please,’ she directed the taxi driver.
Who knows, Lucy thought, this could be my lucky night.
As the taxi hummed along towards Lan Kwai Fong, Lucy’s mind drifted between the hot guy from the bar, Yu Weiran and the mysterious envelope. She put the shopping bag on her lap, realising there was no way she could wait until she got back to her apartment to uncover the secret.
Lucy glanced at the taxi driver in his rear-view mirror to check he was watching the road and not her, and slowly pulled out the envelope. It felt softer than she’d imagined, but full. Full of secrets, she thought to herself. She felt a surge of guilt at the thought of Mr Safari Suit getting a call from the real Miss Chan demanding to know where her package was. She was probably sitting in the hotel bar right now, waiting for him to turn up. Mr Safari Suit would be cursing Lucy all the way back to 1975, or wherever it was that he came from.
But this strange mix-up was going to propel Lucy from behind-the-scenes newsroom newbie right into the presenter’s chair. Lucy knew she already had a dream job – she’d been the envy of her entire journalism class when she landed the TVi gig straight out of uni – but she was aiming high. And she figured that once this story hit the air there’d be no more compiling boring market wraps for her; it could be Lucy Yang presenting hourly bulletins. At twenty-one!
She wondered what she’d wear for her first on-air appearance. She couldn’t stray too far from black or navy, but she’d certainly want to make a statement. A flash of fuchsia under a dark jacket would probably do the trick. She felt her pulse race at the thought of sitting in the presenter’s chair, the hot lights on her face and the camera pointed straight at her. Her heart was thumping as she imagined the director counting her in to the start of the bulletin, the program’s trailer playing in her earpiece.
And then it pounded again at the thought of who might be watching her first bulletin. If Cute Serious Guy were a banker he would definitely see it – they all watched TVi.
The taxi stopped suddenly at a set of lights, and Lucy caught herself. She had to stop letting her imagination run away like that. It wasn’t exactly an ideal trait for a reporter! She glanced around and recognised she was almost at Lan Kwai Fong. Then she looked at the envelope in her hands. It was time to find out what it was. Carefully she slipped a finger under the seal, then closed her eyes for a few moments, savouring the anticipation, forming a picture of her future in her mind, before opening the envelope.
She peered inside. No.
It was supposed to be her ticket to the big league, but instead she was looking at what seemed to be a corporate shirt. Lucy pulled it out of the envelope and studied it. A drab grey shirt with the initials H.D. on the pocket. That crazy guy in a safari suit had given her a freebie golf shirt. What was he on?
Lucy dropped the shirt in her lap. She took another look into the bottom of the envelope and breathed a sigh of relief. There was a box or something in one corner – an exclusive story might still be within her grasp! She tipped the envelope upside down, and out fell a small packet. Lucy held it up to examine it and then groaned. It was a packet of anti-malaria tablets. What was this doing in the package? Lucy wondered. Surely Mr Safari Suit didn’t just accidentally leave it?
Lucy tossed the packet of tablets into her handbag along with the shirt, trying to puzzle out their meaning. Maybe the guy in the bad suit was ordering golf shirts for a corporate event or something, and was dropping off a sample. But that didn’t explain the pills or the secretive handover.
She racked her brain for anything the guy had said that might be a clue to what was going on. May the winds favour you was about the last thing he’d said. Why do people think they can sound wise by quoting a Chinese proverb, anyway? Lucy wondered. It probably wasn’t even a real saying – more likely just something Mr Safari Suit made up. The tree that does not bend with the wind will be broken was the only wind-related proverb that Lucy knew. She knew it very well because it was one of her father’s favourite pearls of wisdom; he dragged it out every time they fought. Lucy had a set of principles that she felt were worth defending, but her father just thought she was stubborn – an attitude that would bring her trouble, probably keep her single and, worst of all, deprive her parents of grandchildren!
Lucy slumped back in her seat. She’d be on market wraps for the rest of her life unless she did something to impress her boss, and an unremarkable grey golf shirt was not going to be the way to do it. Her thoughts turned to Yu. She had to pull something off with him, convince him to do an interview. It wouldn’t secure her a presenter’s job, but it would be a step in the right direction, possibly getting her the chance for some juicy assignments.
Lucy pondered the mysterious twenty-nine-year-old tycoon. He wasn’t well known, but he’d broken cover just after Lucy moved to Hong Kong. He’d splurged on a truckload of Qing Dynasty antiques at a Bonham’s auction, which had set him back several million dollars. Lucy had been tracking him ever since.
He ran a conglomerate of businesses across China, and Lucy knew his success story would make him a great guest on TVi – if only she could convince him to shed his inhibitions and appear on camera. If she could just get to know him, maybe she’d have more success. She’d done her homework, even researching Qing Dynasty art just in case she ever got the chance to meet Yu. Maybe tonight was the night she’d finally be able to put all that research to use.
As Lucy left the taxi her spirits were high again; she was eager to find Yu. She had almost forgotten about the ‘exclusive’ that never was, until the taxi driver called out to her.
‘Your bag.’
Lucy looked at the department store bag sitting on the back seat along with the empty envelope. She didn’t want them, but she assumed the driver didn’t either – she’d dump them when she found a bin. Lucy grabbed the envelope, shoved it into the shopping bag, then headed for Rusty’s, trying to forget about Mr Safari Suit and concentrate on her prospects with Yu.
