Tasmina Perry 3-Book Collection: Daddy’s Girls, Gold Diggers, Original Sin. Tasmina Perry
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‘Cate. When she mentioned she was trying to raise money for a magazine, I didn’t think she had a cat in hell’s chance. I wouldn’t put a penny of my cash into it, of course. It’ll almost certainly go tits up by Christmas, but you have to commend her on this evening.’
‘Well, it’s a bloody good turnout if you ask me,’ replied Venetia defensively. ‘Oh look. There’s Diego. Let’s go and say hello.’
Diego de Bono, Venetia’s head of women’s-wear design was standing on the terrace in a pair of black sunglasses, even though the light was steadily darkening over the London skyline. Venetia looked at his whippet-thin frame and jet-black crop of hair and thought he looked like some French heroin addict.
‘Actually, I think I’ll go and get some drinks in,’ said Jonathon, steering himself away from the direction in which she was pulling them.
‘Don’t be silly. You’re a partner in the business. Come and say hello to the man who’s going to make the company more money.’
Venetia felt the resistance in his arm and pulled back, annoyed by yet another sign of casual disregard for her life, her day and her business. She shot him a furious glance and pulled on his arm again.
She greeted Diego with an embrace and kissed him on both cheeks.
‘Diego. What a surprise. I didn’t know you were coming.’
‘I met a friend for dinner who insisted on taking me to a magazine party. I didn’t know it was your sister’s.’
‘We get around,’ laughed Venetia. ‘Diego. You’ve met my husband, haven’t you?’
The two men’s eyes locked. ‘Yes, I think so,’ smiled Diego at Jonathon. Venetia caught his gaze wandering around the room.
‘Anyway, good opportunity to work a room,’ Diego added with a languid smile. ‘The Times and Guardian fashion editors are both here, so I’m going to go and spread the word of Venetia Balcon.’
He nodded and left them while Venetia rounded on Jonathon.
‘You’re so bloody rude. I know designers aren’t quite your cup of tea, but there’s no need to look so patently bored.’
‘I just hate shop-talk,’ replied Jonathon. ‘Even if it is my shop.’ Venetia sighed and shook his hand away as he tried to take her by the arm.
‘I don’t know why we bother …
‘Darling, I’m sorry. Let me get you a champagne.’
She felt his behaviour do an about-turn as the curve of his mouth softened and he stroked her forearm with his fingertips. His old trick. Testing her, baiting her, infuriating her and then reeling her in at the last moment with a burst of controlled charm.
Relenting, she felt her body soften against him. ‘I just wish you’d make more of an effort with my friends, my colleagues.’
He slid his arm around the back of her neck and pulled her into him, planting a dry kiss on her forehead. ‘Sorry, darling, I’ve been a bit distracted. Work is hard. The Geneva office … but that’s no excuse.’ He pulled his hand up against her face and trailed his fingers down her cheek. ‘Why don’t we blow the party, check into a suite and not come out until the morning.’
The gesture took her by complete surprise. She recoiled inside, but tried not to stiffen in his grip. Not so long ago she would have given anything for Jonathon to inject some passion, spontaneity into their life, but now it all seemed too little too late. And she was certain that she could not face two hotel suites in the space of one day.
‘I think I have a headache coming on. I haven’t been feeling too well all day.’
Jonathon stared down at her with his piercing blue eyes and steered her away to the exit. Trying hard to rub out all thoughts of Jack Kidman, she looked up at him – her husband – and allowed him to take her hand.
‘A headache?’ said Jonathon with relish. ‘In that case, why don’t we say our goodbyes and go home?’
Cate retreated to the tiny third bedroom of the penthouse and tried to call Serena’s mobile. The party was buzzing with journalists, with a mob of paparazzi outside. Serena’s presence at the party would be great publicity for the magazine, but she had to admit that it was probably not a good idea for her to come after all. There was no answer. Where was she? Cate left her a message, when she heard the door of the room slide open and she turned to see David Goldman standing there. He looked razor sharp in a tailored iron-grey suit and a stark white shirt that showcased his tan.
‘Sorry,’ she laughed nervously, ‘I just came in here to take a couple of minutes’ time out. I’ll get back to the rampant socializing in a moment.’
‘Well, if you want to be alone, you really should shut the door,’ said David wolfishly, clicking the latch shut behind him. ‘Mind if I join you?’
‘Shouldn’t you be out there being all man about town?’ smiled Cate, accepting a flute of pink champagne from him. David shrugged. ‘The investors seem to be looking after themselves and Nick is off with Rebecca.’ Cate felt her heart sink momentarily.
‘So, the only other person I know here is you,’ he said, perching himself on the edge of the huge mahogany bed.
Her five-inch heels were killing her, so Cate shrugged and sat down next to David. He immediately moved up against her, the sleeve of his jacket lingering against her bare arm. She felt a rush of giddiness; she wasn’t quite sure whether it was down to the success of the party, the champagne or David’s proximity.
‘You really have done such a fantastic job. I’ve just been telling everyone what an impressive woman you are.’ He paused. ‘One of the most impressive women I’ve ever met in my life.’
Cate felt nerves jangle around her body. She had expected him to pounce as soon as he had locked the bedroom door, and suddenly she found herself thinking that that wasn’t such an unwelcome prospect after all.
‘Oh, I’m sure you make a habit of meeting impressive women,’ said Cate playfully, draining the last of her champagne and placing the flute on the carpet.
‘Are you making fun of me?’ smiled David, finally moving one hand to rest on Cate’s knee.
Cate’s head was starting to spin now, and she did not move away as he pushed a thick strand of hair off her shoulder, even though she could feel his clichéd seduction manipulating her senses.
‘How about a celebratory kiss?’ he whispered. His lips came down on hers. Although a warning bell shrieked on in some distant part of her brain, she found herself responding.
David threaded his hand through her hair, gently pushing her back on the bed. Part of her wanted to resist; the other part just wanted him to kiss her more deeply. They fell back on the fluffy cream duvet, David’s fingers lowering themselves down her neck to touch one of her nipples through the thin fluid fabric of the dress. She gasped and cupped his face with both hands pulling him into a deeper and deeper kiss.
‘What are we doing?’ she said, finally pulling herself up for air.
His hand slipped up the cream folds of her dress, and crept up to the top of her thigh. ‘Finally having some fun.’
‘At last!’ laughed Nick, throwing an arm around Tom Archer’s shoulders. Tom smiled back. He felt grateful to be with his old friend, enjoying the London social scene once more. It had been a long time since he had ventured into the city for a night out and he wanted to make the most of it. So, he hadn’t enjoyed waiting downstairs in the Fenchurch Suite, especially when someone in the next room had started playing music at enormous volume. But when Nick had called to say that it looked as if Serena wasn’t coming, he felt ready to join the fun, even if a small part of him had been looking forward to seeing her. He grabbed a drink and downed it in one.
‘So is it my turn