‘Ladies!’ the auctioneer hailed as they returned. ‘We’ve been eagerly anticipating your return. We’re just about to commence the bids for Lot eighteen: the styling session with Ms Zoe? I can see by your dazzling dresses tonight that her name will not be foreign to you?’
‘On the contrary,’ Laura laughed boldly, putting a little sway in her hips as she wove her way seductively through the chairs. ‘It’s Cat’s birthday in a few days, and her husband is under strict orders to win this bid tonight. Or else.’
The room erupted into excited laughter, with lots of sympathetic back-slaps on Rob’s shoulders, as Cat grabbed Laura’s arm and they walked arm in arm towards their table.
‘That should drive the price up another twenty thousand before it even begins,’ Cat whispered.
‘I thought it might,’ Laura giggled back.
‘Well, I’m so delighted to hear it,’ the auctioneer called at the front. ‘The prospect of the “or else” alone should ensure somebody in this room wants to outbid him.’ This comment in particular was met by a crescendo of male cheers, so that it sounded more like a rugby club than a Knightsbridge hotel.
Laura slid down into her chair happily, defiantly meeting Rob’s eye. She knew exactly what she had done.
‘Well, shall we start the bids at thirty thousand?’ the auctioneer asked, staring pointedly at Rob. ‘A small price to pay, I think you’ll agree, for keeping such a beautiful wife so well dressed.’
The room held its breath as they waited for his nod – and when it came, they almost lifted the roof. The numbers escalated quickly and Rob’s colour with it. Every man in the room was throwing his hat into the room, knowing that Rob’s honour would demand that he outbid them again and again and again.
Garth leaned in close to Laura. ‘I hope your game with the boss’s wife isn’t going to wipe out the bonus pot,’ he murmured, so close that his breath tickled her neck.
‘Why? What would it mean?’ Laura replied coquettishly. ‘No new Bentley? Purchase of your private island on hold?’
‘I would have to hold you personally responsible for my impoverished state.’ His eyes met hers, the innuendo clear.
‘We’d better hope he doesn’t spend all of your money, then,’ Laura whispered, her face close to his.
‘One hundred and thirty thousand. Do I have any advance on that?’ the auctioneer pleaded.
But the room had fallen quiet. It was a good game, but nobody wanted to get caught out at these numbers should Rob call a bluff. There were other lots they actually wanted to win – notably the drive with Jenson Button, the lesson with Rafa . . .
‘Going once . . . going twice . . . gone to the valiant Mr Blake!’ he proclaimed grandly. ‘May his wife always be so beautifully dressed!’
Everyone was on their feet stamping and clapping, Rob nodding gamely as everyone cheered his good humour. Laura leant across the table and high-fived Cat, who was lapping up the attention.
‘That was a priceless PR exercise for Blake & Somner’s profile,’ Simone said to Laura, taking her seat again and returning to her vodka shots. ‘It’ll be interesting to see the calls we get on Monday as a result of this. These guys love a bit of balls-out bravado.’
‘And next up, ladies and gentlemen, we have one of my favourite lots of the night: a day’s paragliding in Scafell in the Lake District. May I implore any of you who have never tried this magnificent activity to consider it now. There is no more beautiful way to survey the English landscape than this – and yes, I do mean the view beats the one from your Lear.’
A ripple of laughter.
‘As I’m sure many of you are virgins – at this – let us begin the bidding at five thousand pounds. Do I have five?’
A hand went up at the back of the room.
‘Thank you, sir. Who’ll show me seven? I have seven . . .’ He looked back at the original bidder. ‘Ten, sir?’
The original bidder shook his head.
‘Ten, anyone? Come, come, don’t tell me you’re all intimidated by Mr Blake’s largesse? Nine, then. It’s for a worthy cause, ladies and gentlemen . . .’
Laura’s hand shot up.
‘A new bidder! Thank you, Miss Laura . . . ?’
‘Cunningham,’ Laura smiled.
Another cheer went up.
‘Laura! What the hell are you doing?’ Rob hissed across the table at her. ‘You can’t—’ He stopped himself short of announcing to the table that she couldn’t afford it.
‘Miss Cunningham is our new highest bidder. Is anybody going to go to ten and deny the lady what she wants?’
The auctioneer and Rob looked around the room. It appeared nobody was.
Rob looked back at her in concern. He raised his hand.
‘Mr Blake! Oh dear! Betting against your own guest.’ The auctioneer looked at Laura in glee. ‘Will you go to eleven?’
‘I will,’ she nodded.
Rob’s face paled. ‘Laura . . .’
Everyone in the room looked at him expectantly. ‘Twelve?’
He gave a brief nod.
‘Thirteen, Miss Cunningham?’
‘Yes.’
‘Mr Blake?’ the auctioneer asked expectantly.
‘Fifteen,’ Rob replied, boring his eyes into Laura’s profile, though she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
‘Twenty,’ Laura replied, quick as a flash.
The room gasped. Laura could feel Rob’s anger shooting across the table at her like electric bolts, but she didn’t care. He didn’t call the shots in her life, no matter what he may think. He didn’t get to choose her friends, nor how she spent her money.
There was a long silence. Even the auctioneer, who was no doubt reading the body language between the two of them – Laura’s body turned away, her chin up; Rob’s anxious expression – didn’t intrude. They were running this show for the moment.
‘Thirty,’ he muttered.
‘Forty.’ She didn’t hesitate. She was going to win.
‘Fifty.’
Laura looked over at him. ‘One hundred.’
A collective gasp whipped everyone’s breath away. No one stirred. You really had to like paragliding to go to these figures.
‘Mr Blake? Can you beat the bid?’ the auctioneer asked breathlessly. As the most inauspicious lot of the night, it should have gone for ten max.
Laura stared back at Rob, feeling the adrenalin pump through her, enjoying the rush. She knew perfectly well that he could.
Rob saw the fight still in her eyes and shook his head. ‘No. I’m done,’ he said quietly.
Laura felt herself exhale.
‘So then, at one hundred thousand pounds, one day’s paragliding in Scafell going once . . . going twice . . . gone to Miss Cunningham!’
The audience was on its feet before the gavel made contact with the block, and Laura felt Cat throw her arms around her neck, screaming with delight as Garth clapped with undisguised lust.
‘Laura! You were incredible,’ Cat trilled. ‘I’ve never been so excited.’ Garth’s head snapped round at that.
‘Oh my God,’ Laura cried, putting her fingers to her temples. ‘What have I done? I must be mad.’
‘You must be loaded,’ Simone quipped, rubbing her shoulder.
‘Well, it’s for charity,’ Laura shrugged. ‘What else am I going to spend my money on?’
‘Laura Cunningham,’ Cat grinned, plonking herself down on Laura’s lap and kissing her on the cheek. ‘You just get better and better.’
Garth shifted position in his chair to get a clearer view. ‘Much like this night.’
Throughout the rest of the auction, Laura succeeded in keeping her eyes well away from Rob’s. Simone and Garth were her new best friends, and people kept stopping by to congratulate her as they passed the table on the way to the bar. The atmosphere was highly charged now, money having been splashed about with abandon, everyone turned on by the displays of power.
The band started up and the dance floor was flooded in an instant.
‘Laura, you are mine,’ Garth said, reaching down for her hand.
‘I don’t think I am, actually,’ Laura laughed, draining her drink and letting him pull her along anyway. She felt too light-headed and carefree to resist further, and he immediately spun her into a twirl. The hem of her dress fanned out around her ankles, her hair a golden waterfall that lifted off her shoulders with the movement. She didn’t consider herself an accomplished dancer, but Garth was reasonably good for someone who’d drunk the best part of a jeroboam of wine, and managed to catch her hand as he flung her out.
‘You’re not bad,’ she said as he pulled her into him for a second.
‘No, I’m not,’ he grinned, spinning her back out again.
‘You’re making me look good!’ she laughed as he quick-stepped her around before dipping her so low that her hair brushed the floor. He brought her back up so that they were face-to-face.
‘Oh no. I think it’s very definitely the other way round.’
‘Do you mind?’ a curt voice asked.
Garth stopped dancing, surprised to see Rob standing there. ‘Camilla’s not looking too happy. Thought I’d better warn you.’
Garth pulled a face. ‘Oh. Yeah. Thanks,’ he sighed, casting a rueful look at Laura.
Laura watched him go and went to walk off the floor herself, but Rob caught her by the wrist and spun her back into him.
‘Not so fast. The song’s not over yet,’ he said, placing one hand on her back, one leg between hers, and leading her around the floor quickly.
‘Maybe. But I don’t want to dance with you,’ she replied, trying to pull away, but he was too strong.
‘You and I are going to talk,’ he said.
‘I don’t like talking to you. It always ends up with you insulting me,’ she said, turning her face away from his.
‘What the hell were you doing back there?’ he asked, his voice a growl in her ear that made the hairs on her neck stand to attention. ‘Couldn’t you see I was trying to help you! You know perfectly well you can’t afford that bid.’
‘Do I?’
He laughed, unamused. ‘Come off it. You got carried away. You were showing off, enjoying your moment in the sun with Cat.’
She pulled back. ‘You’re just mad because I stitched you up like a kipper,’ she jeered. ‘You had to spend a hundred and thirty thousand pounds for Cat just to save face.’
He was quiet for a second. They both knew it was the truth. ‘And I expect you think I’ll cover the cost of your shopping trip too.’
Laura shook her head. ‘Nope.’
‘You’ve got a bloody nerve. Of course you do.’
‘Why do you assume I’m poor, Rob?’
The question surprised him.
‘Because I’m just a jeweller, is that it?’
He swallowed, watching her as she swayed beneath him.
‘You already know that I had a career before this one. I told you I worked in corporate finance. My bonuses were exceptionally generous, thanks very much. Maybe not in your league, but I have my own money saved away. I don’t need you to come in and rescue me.’
‘Who do you need, then?’
‘No one. And that’s just the way I like it.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Suit yourself,’ she shrugged.
He frowned at her, baffled by her belligerence and the marked change in her behaviour. ‘How much have you had to drink?’
‘Not enough, actually. Good point!’ she smiled, turning to make a beeline for the bar.
But he caught her again and spun her back into him so that she slammed against his chest. He looked into her eyes.
‘What’ve you taken?’
‘Nothing, guv’nor. All the money’s still in the till. Promise.’
He flinched at her sarcasm. ‘You’re high,’ he sneered, shaking her lightly by the arms.
‘So what if I am? You’re not my keeper.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘No. You’re not.’
He dropped his arms away from her. ‘I was wrong about you in every way. You’re utterly ordinary.’
‘You’ve already said that tonight. Think up some new material,’ she replied, turning to leave.
‘Miss Cunningham?’ asked a grey-haired man walking towards her. ‘Bertie Penryn. I’m the co-chair for tonight’s event. I wanted to come over and thank you personally for your contribution to the evening’s success. Your bid made quite an impact.’ He stopped and looked across at Rob, who was standing motionless and ashen beside her. ‘Hello, Rob. Good to see you again.’
Rob nodded as they shook hands. ‘Bertie. It’s been a great evening.’
‘You were very generous, indulging your wife for our benefit again this year.’
Rob nodded. ‘Well . . . she’s worth it, and it is such a great cause.’
‘We do appreciate it.’
Rob paused for a second. ‘Actually, I was going to come and find you this evening anyway. Laura here’s got a jewellery company that’s got Cat enthralled. She’s hosting a launch party for Laura next Friday evening, and wondered whether you might be able to make it. I think her ultimate ambition is to exhibit at the tents in Fashion Week. Have I got that right, Laura?’
Laura glared at him. He’d done this deliberately. He knew perfectly well she’d wanted to network herself and not rely on his ‘help’. She looked back at Bertie. ‘Yes. But I completely understand you must have a very full diary, especially at this time of year . . .’
‘I’d be delighted to pop by. Take my card and leave the details with my assistant. I’ll make sure I’m there.’ He handed Laura a business card. ‘One good turns deserves another. Tonight’s cause is very dear to my heart. I’ll do whatever I can to help you in return.’
‘What is tonight’s chosen charity?’ Laura asked, inspecting the card. ‘My ticket here tonight was very last-minute. I’m afraid I’m not up to speed on who we’re supporting.’
‘It’s a charity I set up in memory of my beloved wife, Barbara. She died from burns sustained in the Covent Garden bombing five years ago. We’ve raised almost twelve million pounds so far and have built a new plastics wings at the Marsden, and all funds raised tonight will go towards equipment and training specialist nurses. In my opinion, your money couldn’t have been better spent. There are many people out there who will be immensely grateful for your generosity.’ He smiled. ‘But look at me, keeping you from having a good time. I must let you get back to your dancing. I just wanted to say thank you. I’ll see you again on Friday.’
Rob took a step towards her. ‘Laura? What’s the matter? You’ve gone—’
She fell to the ground like a stone.