Gold Diggers. Tasmina Perry
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felt as if they were in some elaborate Regency dance, both skirting around one another, slowly observing and sizing each other up, each trying to stay three moves ahead of the other.
‘I should really go and find my friend,’ said Karin with some reluctance. ‘She’s a little depressed and I’m worried she might throw herself into the fountain if I don’t stop her.’
Karin was scanning his face, willing him to look crestfallen at her refusal, but he merely nodded. ‘Maybe some other time, then.’
Karin returned the nod, determined not to show her own disappointment. Finally Adam smiled. ‘You know, you’re still the only woman I’ve had a decent conversation with in London,’ he said, as if it was a private joke between the two of them.
‘I didn’t know you were keeping count,’ smiled Karin, feeling a small flame of triumph.
‘So would you like to go for dinner?’ he asked.
It was Karin’s turn to make her chess move. ‘I’m very busy for the next week or two,’ she said.
‘Yes, so am I,’ he shrugged. ‘I’m in Venice for the carnival and Miami for business, but I’m sure we can find a window.’
‘How odd. I’m going to the carnival too,’ she replied as casually as she could.
‘Oh, that’s excellent. I was hoping you would give me the grand tour of London, but perhaps I can show you around Venice instead.’
‘Perhaps. I do know Venice very well,’ smiled Karin.
Adam was shaking his head and smiling. ‘Are you always this difficult?’
She grinned. ‘Only when I’m having fun.’
‘Molly Sinclair. You don’t look as if you’re having a good time.’ Molly turned round to see Marcus standing behind her. She had been leaning against the glass doors of the winter garden listening to a trickle of water falling into the circular pool. She was still fuming from her brief encounter with Adam Gold; that cocky shit had barely looked at her and he was constantly in an impenetrable throng of businessmen. To make matters worse, she’d spotted him cosying up to Karin Cavendish in the garden. She’d taken it out on Harry, ordering him to fetch her jacket from the Ferrari.
‘Well, I’m having a much better time now,’ she said, turning on the charm.
‘Where’s Harry?’ asked Marcus, looking around. ‘I’ve hardly had a chance to say a word to him all night.’
‘He’s off talking to people,’ she said with a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘I’m sure he’s found someone more interesting to chat to.’
‘Well, I find that hard to believe,’ said Marcus. Molly examined his expression, trying to decide if his last comment was flirtatious or merely polite. Marcus Blackwell could be useful, she thought.
Marrying well was never just a case of two star-crossed lovers meeting by chance – not in the real world, anyway. It involved a lot of careful planning and manoeuvring. It was an art, thought Molly, an art she had studied for a long, long time.
‘You never did show me that apartment you promised,’ said Molly, touching Marcus’s arm.
‘It’s all locked up for the night.’
‘Oh, come on. You’re the boss around here. Surely you have a key?’
Marcus nodded and patted his pocket. ‘The reason I know the show apartment is locked is because I locked it myself.’
He put his hand lightly on her waist to steer her through the crowd to a private lift. Marcus slotted a card into the wall and the doors hissed open. They stood silently as the lift took them up to the fifteenth floor.
‘Wow,’ whistled Molly as she stepped out onto carpet so thick it almost covered her shoe. It was really was quite impressive what £10 million bought you in real estate.
Molly made her way slowly through the flat, Marcus silently following behind, lapping up her effusive compliments. And there was much to admire: floor-to-ceiling ‘his-and-hers’ plasma screens in the master bedroom, a walnut kitchen with white resin walls, climate-controlled closets and a polished bamboo floor in the bathroom. The look was cool minimalist with luxurious flourishes. Each apartment even came completely fitted out with bespoke cutting-edge Italian furniture. And then there was that view, high over Hyde Park.
‘You’ll see best from the balcony in the master bedroom,’ said Marcus slowly. Molly looked at him, then kicked off her heels and walked across to open the doors. She didn’t go out onto the balcony, just stood in the doorway, letting the cool night air ruffle her hair.
‘Is it embarrassing to admit I had your calendar on my wall at college?’ said Marcus behind her. Molly smiled; she knew she had him. Marcus was your typical Master of the Universe in the boardroom, but his devotion to work had starved him of passion. No regular girlfriend, possibly a few hookers. He was ripe for the picking.
‘Come over here,’ she said, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, ‘The breeze is lovely.’
Marcus walked over hesitantly. His eyes were hungry but nervous.
Molly gently took his hand and placed it on her breastbone, sliding it down her dress until his fingers brushed her hard, erect nipple. ‘Look what you did to me,’ she whispered, leaning so close that her bottom lip brushed his ear lobe.
‘Molly, Harry is my friend,’ said Marcus, the words catching in his throat.
‘I don’t want Harry,’ she purred, brushing her lips across his neck as she spoke. Her fingers traced down the line of his shirt buttons until she found his zip. ‘I want you,’ she whispered, ‘I’ve wanted you from the second I saw you.’
Suddenly their mouths were together, Marcus hurriedly undoing his trousers and pulling his boxer shorts off as they shuffled towards the bed. Pushing Molly back onto the expensive linen, Marcus hiked up her dress and roughly pulled down her panties, dipping two fingers into her wetness.
‘Now, don’t wait,’ she said, her voice shuddering. She wrapped her legs around him and guided him into her inch by inch, slowing him, taunting him, until he was fully inside her. Marcus was groaning in pleasure, reaching down to spread her legs wider, lifting her buttocks off the sheets so his cock could reach deeper and deeper.
‘Oh God, yes, harder,’ she begged, arching her back as Marcus thrust faster and faster into her, before he erupted, crying out, his face twisting, his nostrils flared.
He held on to her for one moment, then rolled to the side; they were both gasping.
‘Can I call you tomorrow?’ asked Marcus finally, as Molly sat up on the edge of the bed, pulling her panties back on.
‘I’ll call you,’ she said with a dirty smile, before smoothing down her short gold dress and moving towards the door. Three minutes later, she was back at the party, where Harry was frantically searching for her, clutching her jacket.
‘There you are darling,’ she said, kissing Harry on the lips. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
The weather in Venice was remarkably good for late winter. A strong sun dazzled the city, the colourful landscape of ice-cream coloured buildings and red-brick palazzos looking even more striking against a clear blue sky. Karin and her friend Ileana Totti, heiress to her family’s luxury goods company, were in the lobby of the Danieli Hotel catching up.
‘So you lied to Adam Gold that you were going to be in Venice for carnival?’ laughed Ileana, taking a sip of her Bellini. ‘I never knew you were so devious.’
‘It