The Forgotten Girls

THE FORGOTTEN GIRLS CATE ANDERSON This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Copyright © 2022 Cate Anderson All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Table of Contents Note from the Author Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Epilogue HAVE YOU READ… IF YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK… ABOUT THE AUTHOR Note from the Author This story is a psychological thriller about the exploitation of women, and as such includes adult themes of sex and violence not suitable for under 18s. If you would like to read the story but prefer not to read graphic violence, please feel free to skip Chapter Ten, which includes a scene involving sexual violence towards two girls. If you have been the victim of sexual violence, I encourage you to seek help from places like: US: https://www.safehelpline.org/ UK: https://www.supportline.org.uk NZ: https://www.safetotalk.nz/ and I send you all the healing love & light in the world. PART ONE Chapter One January, 2021 Gem stood in the doorway of the exclusive bar, scanning the people sipping champagne and cocktails, looking for her client. His codename was Sirius. She didn’t know his real name, even though she’d met him before. Finally she spotted him in the corner, sitting alone at a table. He had his back to her, but she recognised his dark hair, cut in a fashionable fade, the back shaved, the top carefully styled. He was wearing a suit, the collar of his white shirt visible above his dark-grey jacket. Her pulse picked up speed. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, then walked to the bar, ordered a gin and tonic, and drank it in two mouthfuls. Her boss and partner, Jupiter—also a codename—had once told her that English soldiers in the seventeenth century used to drink jenever or Dutch gin before battle for its calming effects. Dutch courage, it was called. God knew, she needed it now. She ordered another G&T, and Sirius a double of Johnny Walker Blue Label. Jupiter’s instructions. Over a hundred and fifty pounds a bottle, and only one in every ten thousand casks had the required quality and flavour. She waited a moment to gather her courage, then took the glasses over to the table. “Good evening,” she said. Even to her, her voice sounded breathless. “Gemini.” He pushed his chair back, stood, and held out his hand to her. Gemini was a codename, too, but she’d used the moniker for so long that she wasn’t sure she’d react to her real name. She put her glass on the table and slid her hand into his. He had long, tapering fingers with manicured nails. His skin was warm, his grip firm. The hairs rose all over her body. Jupiter was very impressed by this guy. He’d told her all about Sirius’s wardrobe, explaining that he wore Alexander Amosu Vanquish bespoke suits, made from three unique fabrics, including the world’s most expensive wool taken from the fur of an Arctic muskox. She could see the glint of diamond buttons that Jupiter loved so much. Sirius’s wrist bore a Patek Philippe watch, and she knew that was a quality brand. But the object that gave her goosebumps sat on the table—an iPhone that Jupiter said had an actual pink diamond in the back. She placed the whiskey on the other side of Sirius, terrified of spilling it over the precious phone. “You look stunning,” he said as they sat across the table from one another. “Thank you.” His compliment thrilled her. She always dressed well, but she’d taken extra time on her appearance that night. She was on the wrong side of thirty, but she knew she didn’t look it. She was the same weight she’d been at eighteen, and her body, untouched by the trauma of childbirth, was still tight and toned. At five-nine, she was too tall for Sirius, who liked his women small, and she was almost twenty years too old, and anyway, he knew she belonged to Jupiter. She was there for business, not seduction. But he was possibly the richest, most powerful man in Europe, and she wanted him to find her attractive. She wore her favourite Les Demoiselle dusky-pink cocktail dress with a crossover tulip-style skirt because it showed off her slender legs, and a pair of Jimmy Choo suede platform sandals in the same shade. She knew she looked good, but it was nice to be appreciated. “So do you,” she added. Sirius laughed. He had straight, white teeth and an attractive, husky chuckle. He was a big man, maybe six-two, and muscular—Jupiter had mentioned that the guy had been a boxer in his youth. He smelled of expensive cologne. His brown eyes were so dark they were almost black. Something about him reminded her of a big cat—sleek and sensual. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” he said. She sipped her G&T. “Of course. Have you been well?” “Exceptionally, thank you. You?” She nodded. “I’ve no complaints.” It was the truth. Her life wasn’t perfect. This wasn’t what she’d dreamed about doing when she was a child. She’d always wanted to travel—to see the Taj Mahal, the Pyramids, the Grand Canyon—but she’d never left England. Jupiter wouldn’t take her on any of his trips, too afraid, she was sure, that she might not come back. But she was from a rough background, with too many siblings packed into a tiny house, an absent father, and a mother who went