For the one hundred and fifty guests going to Adam and Karin’s engagement party, it was a long and weary journey. The early start to get to Heathrow, the two-hour flight to Milan’s Linate Airport on the specially chartered 737, the ninety-minute drive to the shores of Lake Como in a fleet of Mercedes and then, finally, the short trip by motor cruiser to the palazzo itself. But there was not one person who did not agree that it was worth the wait as the launch finally docked at the jetty. Adam Gold’s palazzo was magnificent: a sumptuous wedding cake of a building transported to a magical timeless setting by the glistening waters. It had Doric pillars, painted ceilings and long windows that looked out onto gardens bursting with flowers of saffron, scarlet and blue, tumbling down towards the cyan-blue waters of the lake. Adam had bought the property lock, stock and barrel from an impoverished comte, and with it came a catalogue of superb art and marble statues, some by Canova and Bellini. No one could fail to be impressed.
Karin threw her vanity case on the canopied bed in the master bedroom and flopped down next to it. It had just gone noon and a glorious September afternoon stretched out in front of her. The sun was streaming in through the windows and dappling the marble floor with spots of light. It couldn’t be more perfect. Their engagement party was the hottest, most exclusive ticket anywhere on the social circuit from Miami to Monaco. Any social triumph or professional success she had had up to this point was just a starter for the main course. Today, Karin Cavendish had arrived. She was now up there with the Lynn Wyatts, the Lily Safras, the queen of a new generation of super-wealthy society wives: glamorous, powerful women who enhanced their husband’s success and ruled with charm, style and mega-wealth.
Adam came over and sat on the bed, stroking her hair. ‘I don’t know about you but I’m tired already,’ he said with a slow smile. ‘I could do with me and you crawling into this bed right now, and not being disturbed until Monday.’
‘Well, sorry to break it to you but we have a hundred and fifty people about to descend on the pool for cocktails and we have got to be charming and chatty to every single one of them.’
Adam sighed. ‘Whose idea was it to have a party anyway?’
‘Don’t look at me,’ said Karin. ‘The whole world has been waiting for Adam Gold to get married. You know you didn’t want to go quietly.’
Karin had a shower and changed into a bikini and a long sheer black kaftan shot through with gold thread. She had skin that tanned within minutes, so there was no need for make-up, except a little liquid blush and a slick of gloss across her lips. Throwing open the French windows that led into the grounds she could see that waiters in white tails were already putting out champagne flutes onto long tables covered in starched ivory tablecloths. Around thirty-five guests were staying at the palazzo; the rest were staying at the big five-star hotels around the lake: the Villa d’Este and Villa Serbelloni. A fleet of motor cruisers were due to bring them over any time now: it was 1 p.m. She held up a hand to shield her eyes and squinted at the lake, a slab of shimmering silver in front of her. She frowned. Nobody was allowed to be late to her engagement party. No one.
Erin had never seen anything like it. Not in the movies, magazines or coffee-table books. She didn’t know that she was in the smallest room at Palazzo Verdi, an attic garret once used for the servants, but she wouldn’t have cared. To have any room in this hotel was, to Erin, like having her own little pocket of heaven. Feeling like a Greek goddess, she stopped unpacking her suitcase and pushed open a small window to let a gust of warm, sweet-smelling air rush onto her face.
She was determined to enjoy herself this weekend, she thought, gazing at the lake with its steep cliffs and cream and terracotta villages. How could she not? She was in a picture-postcard movie set, she was off-duty – Adam had insisted this weekend would be all play and no work for his hard-working executive assistant: it should have been the most perfect weekend of her life. Perfect except for two words: Karin Cavendish. Despite her own feelings for Adam, she had accepted his engagement with a detached resignation. After all, who was she kidding? Adam was never going to want anybody like her and, while Erin knew from experience that Karin could be hard, demanding and sometimes insufferable, she was still cut from the same cloth as Adam: successful and glamorous.
But now Erin felt cheated. Karin was a fraud. She wasn’t that much different to Erin – she had just spun her own story better, bluffed her way into a world far beyond her beginnings. She thought back to Jilly’s revelations at the party and grimaced. One event had elevated Karin’s life into the vaulted glittering theatre it had become, and sent Erin’s tumbling to the ground. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence that she had ended up working for Karin – it was a plan. A plan to suck Erin into a more glamorous world, to give her a taste of what should rightly be hers, but because her role was servant and not master, she could only taste it and not fully enjoy it. Karin might have taken Adam, but she had taken something much worse from her. She had taken her life, and now she was dangling it back in front of her like forbidden fruit. A jumble of questions rushed through Erin’s mind. How could she? Why would she? And how was she going to get even?
Well, this is more like it, thought Molly, stepping out onto her own private terrace in a tiny scarlet bikini. She scooped her hair up into a ponytail and surveyed the villa, deciding that, with the exception of the room that had the huge balcony next to them – presumably Adam’s – she was definitely in the best bedroom in the house.
‘Why does Adam not come out to this place more?’ asked Molly, as Marcus walked out to join her in a pair of cream linen shorts and a plum polo shirt. ‘We could have spent all summer here if he hadn’t been hiding it away.’
‘He’s only had it about twelve months,’ said Marcus, handing her a chilled cocktail. ‘Maybe next year.’
‘Why can’t we have a place like this?’ she pouted. ‘Everyone I know has a summer place. I think it’s time we started seriously keeping up. I don’t mind starting to look; I can visit some estate agents when I go to Milan for the shows.’
Marcus shifted uncomfortably and moved over to the rail. ‘Oh look, I think the boat has come from the Villa d’Este. Shall we have a wander downstairs and meet them?’
Molly walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘You know how you hate being the first at a party,’ she murmured in his ear. ‘Let’s go back into the bedroom and think of some way to waste a bit of time.’
Marcus smiled and took her hand. She hoped he wasn’t going to be tiresome over the issue of overseas property. A woman like her needed a villa or two. But then again, she thought, I can be very persuasive.
The grounds of the palazzo were so enormous that it had been easy for Summer to find a secluded spot away from the braying guests where she could think. Staying at the villa also brought with it the very real possibility of being confronted by the happy couple, Karin and Adam. So why have you come? Summer asked herself for the thousandth time. She felt physically sick just being here, but when Karin had phoned her personally to invite her, insisting she would not take no for answer, Summer could not think of a believable excuse. Molly had also been insistent, convinced that her daughter could still convert her relationship with Adam into something more substantial. ‘Look, darling, fucking Adam is one thing,’ she had said, ‘but this could be your last real chance to stand side by side with Karin and show him that he is with the wrong woman.’
Worst of all, Adam had insisted she come, particularly when he’d found out that she had a modelling job in Milan on the Monday after the party.
‘It will look odd if you’re not there,’ Adam had told her in bed a week before the Como party, when Summer was once again feeling hesitant and guilty about attending. ‘You’re the face of Karenza swimwear. Don’t make her suspicious. You know what she’s like.’
Summer had desperately wanted to finish their affair after he’d told her about his engagement, but when he had appeared at her flat, several days after their dinner at the Fat Duck, Summer had found it impossible to resist him. Life without Adam had felt so wretched, empty and pointless that she came to the swift conclusion that she was prepared to accept their relationship on whatever terms it now came.
But it didn’t make her feel good. Summer sat down on a bench she had found between two long cypress trees and pulled her feet up so her knees tucked under her chin. She picked a fuchsia-coloured flower and began to tear the petals off slowly, letting them twirl to the ground one by one. Molly was right. This was probably the last real chance of reclaiming Adam from his fiancée before the wedding plans went so far it would get too messy and embarrassing to stop them. And what her mum didn’t know was that she had a much bigger reason to make it happen. Her period was two weeks late. A home pregnancy test had confirmed that she was pregnant.
By eight o’clock the sun was setting, spilling russet-gold light across the lake, the cypress trees surrounding the grounds silhouetted black like sentry guards. Erin had gone out to wander through the gardens, cool and sweet-smelling in the dimming light. As she had walked across the terrace, Erin had spotted Karin sitting alone on a wall by the swimming pool, smoking a cigarette. She knew this was her opportunity. She took a deep breath to compose herself and went down to sit beside her, the stone cold under the thin fabric of her dress.
‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ said Erin, wondering if she was coming across as strange, forced. She certainly felt it.
Karin shrugged and threw the cigarette stub on the floor. There was a gentle hiss as it fell in a splash of water from the swimming pool.
‘Haven’t smoked in ten years, but sometimes needs must,’ she smiled. ‘It’s been a big day.’
Erin glanced up at her ex-boss, her face illuminated by the light shining from the palazzo. There was a slight lift to her brow, a subtle flare of her nostril; it was the arrogant yet slightly surprised look of someone who knew they could get whatever they wanted but still couldn’t believe their luck that it had finally arrived. It made Erin press on.
‘You know, I went home to Cornwall last week to see my grandmother and I was telling her where I was going. She asked me how you were going to top this for your wedding. You’re going to have to go some.’
Karin smiled slightly, but Erin thought she looked flustered to hear her talk of home. ‘Yes, I heard you’d gone back to see your family. Adam does get terribly panicked when you’re not around, but I tried to tell him that you have your own life and you’re not at his beck and call twenty-four hours a day. After all, you’re not Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.’ Karin laughed a little harshly. ‘At least, I hope not.’
As Karin rose to leave, Erin touched her arm. ‘What, darling?’ she said, irritated. ‘I really have to get back to the party.’
‘My grandmother told me something about you while I was back in Cornwall.’
Karin’s brow furrowed. As she turned towards Erin, her foot kicked over a glass of red wine that Erin had left on the floor.
‘What? Something she read in the gossip section of the Daily Mail?’
Erin felt a flutter of sickness in her stomach. Karin had a formidable presence: not just with her imperious manner, but in her four-inch Manolo heels she stood over six feet tall.
‘I know your real name is Karen Wenkle.’
‘Oh, darling that’s no big surprise. You’ve worked for me before. You’ve probably seen my passport.’
‘And I know your father was Terence Wenkle. The man who destroyed my father’s business. My grandmother told me everything.’
Karin snorted and turned away from Erin, opening her tiny clutch bag to take out another cigarette, which she promptly lit. ‘Well, I’m surprised you didn’t know that either,’ said Karin, blowing smoke back over her shoulder at Erin. ‘Do you walk around with your eyes and ears closed?’
Erin looked up at her ex-boss who was holding her cigarette aloft and staring out into the darkness. Erin felt more bold having come this far. ‘Did you know who I was when you gave me the job?’
Karin nodded. A gust of wind blew a sheaf of raven hair across her face.
‘So why do it?’ snapped Erin angrily. ‘Did you want to rub my nose in everything you’ve got and I haven’t? Or was it pity?’
She had felt so angry for so many years about her father’s death, and now she had someone to project all that raw, violent emotion onto.
Karin pushed the hair out of her face and took a step towards Erin, her eyes cold. ‘I gave you the job as a favour,’ she said, her mouth curling, ‘because I thought you could do with the break, you ungrateful cow.’
Karin turned away from Erin, looking momentarily embarrassed that someone had seen a chink in her armour.
‘So it was a coincidence? Me working for you?’
‘Yes,’ said Karin. ‘Well, in so far as, when I was recruiting for the PA job, I asked for some girls to be sent over from an agency. You were one of them. I recognized your name. Erin Devereux – it’s fairly distinctive. I was old enough to know what happened with that business with your father. I was sorry for what happened. I still am.’
‘So you gave me the job because you thought it would make up for things?’ said Erin sarcastically.
It was dark now and the temperature had dropped. The pool was like a sheet of black ice surrounded by the greyness of the lawns. Karin wrapped her arms around her body to protect herself from the cold. ‘Do you want the truth, Erin? The truth is that giving you the job did make me feel a little better about what my father had done.’
Erin laughed bitterly. ‘Does Adam know he’s marrying Mother Teresa?’
‘I saved you from some shitty little life in Cornwall.’
‘My life wasn’t shitty,’ said Erin, suddenly full of protective pride.
Karin rolled her eyes and began to walk away, but Erin stood in front of her. ‘You used me to make you feel better about having a ruthless crooked shark for a father,’ she said. ‘You are only where you are today because he shafted and murdered people, to make money and give you opportunities.’
Karin’s expression instantly hardened. ‘Erin, darling, I would be up here, and you would be down there, regardless of what our fathers might have done twenty-five years ago. It has nothing to do with where we came from, but who we are.’
‘Well I’d certainly hate to be you,’ said Erin as calmly as she could, her cheeks blazing with humiliation.
‘Really,’ smiled Karin, lifting one perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at Adam. You expect me to believe you wouldn’t rather be the successful businesswoman about to marry Adam Gold? That you’d rather be the failed writer who answers his phones? I don’t think so, darling. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to get back to the party.’
She turned back to look at Erin. ‘Oh, and Erin? I suggest you stop having little tantrums like this; otherwise you might find it’s the last party you ever go to.’
The pink champagne was flowing, the ice sculpture was melting, the atmosphere fizzed with the chatter and laughter of everyone having a fabulous time at somebody else’s enormous expense. There was dancing in the ballroom, cigar chomping on the terrace and, in the conservatory, transformed into a casino for the evening, Molly and Summer were standing over the blackjack table, wondering when their luck was going to turn.
‘Well? Have you spoken to him yet?’ asked Molly, eyeing her daughter up and down. Even in such glamorous company, surrounded by New York and London’s most gorgeous creatures, Summer Sinclair stood out with her natural beauty. Her face did not need Botox or eye-lifts or any of the other cosmetic procedures on display in the palazzo. Her long thin silk Versace gown, in the palest apricot, made her skin seem to glow; her hair, dyed back to its natural honey blonde, made her look like a pearly goddess who had just stepped out of an oyster.
Summer placed a pile of blue chips in front of her and watched as the croupier dealt the cards. A queen and a seven.
‘Seventeen, signorina?’
Summer bit her lip. ‘Stick,’ she said.
The dealer flipped over his cards. An ace and a jack. Twenty-one.
‘I don’t seem to be having much luck tonight,’ said Summer, pretending to concentrate on the croupier raking up all the losing chips. She didn’t want to talk about Adam. She didn’t want the pressure from her mother. She felt sick enough at the prospect of seeing him tonight, let alone speaking to him.
‘We make our own luck, darling,’ replied Molly, taking Summer by the arm and leading her away from the table. She led her into a corner behind a pillar and fixed Summer with her best ‘displeased’ glare.
‘What are you playing at, Summer?’ she snapped. ‘I’ve counted at least half a dozen opportunities when you could have caught him on his own, but you don’t seem to have taken any of them.’
Summer looked at her mother, who had the confident self-important air of somebody on coke.
‘I want you to go and find him now,’ said Molly, pushing her face up close to Summer’s. ‘Because if you don’t, I will.’
The enormous sweeping marble steps that led from the French windows of the ballroom down to the edge of the lake were like a set from an Audrey Hepburn movie, the perfect place for a heroine to finally kiss her hero to a swelling string quartet and tears from the popcorn-munching audience. Well, there was going to be nothing like that tonight, thought Erin, walking to the final step and sitting down so that her feet almost dangled in the water. Not for me, anyway. She rested her elbows on her knees and listened to the gentle lapping of the lake. If she half closed her eyes it was as if she was back in Cornwall, walking back home from the Golden Lion pub in the village, always taking a minute to pause on the harbour wall and listen to the waves. She looked up at the palazzo behind her, its windows glowing yolky light, illuminating men in tuxedos like tiny penguins. She pulled a face. She wasn’t in Cornwall any more and she had never felt more lonely.
She heard a gentle tapping behind her and Erin looked up. High heels coming down the terrace, then the shape of a woman coming down the stairs towards her. For a second Erin thought it was Jilly. There was the same volume of grey hair piled on top of her head, the same slender figure showing the slight gnarl of age. As she came closer, Erin could see that the woman was a lot more polished than Jilly. The silver hair was brushed and coiffed, her long dress was made of blue silk that screamed Oscar de la Renta and shimmered in the low light. She had a strong face, but the same intelligent, questioning eyes as Erin’s grandmother.
As she got closer, Erin saw that it was Adam’s mother. Erin had only spoken to her briefly at the airport, but Erin knew quite a lot about her. She knew that she lived in Greenwich, Connecticut, that she had been sixty-seven last birthday and had received a walnut Steinway piano from her only son. She knew all this because she had bought it and arranged for it to be delivered at Adam’s request. She also knew that Julia was going to receive a Hockney painting for Christmas, which Adam had just bought from a recent Sotheby’s sale and which he was keeping for her until 20 December, when he would spend two days in Connecticut before flying off to spend Christmas in St Barts with Karin. It was the most important job skill for a PA: you had to know.
‘What are you doing out here all alone?’ asked Julia Gold. ‘Didn’t you know one of Europe’s most glittering social occasions is occurring right behind you as we speak?’ She smiled kindly. ‘… Or so I read on Page Six anyway.’
‘I don’t think I’m here to enjoy myself,’ smiled Erin, immediately warming to her.
‘Just because you work for Adam, doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you to have fun. He’s not that bad, is he? Or have I raised a monster?’
‘He’s not bad,’ smiled Erin, ‘for a global tycoon.’
‘Funny, most people expect him to be like that.’
‘Me too. I come from Cornwall, where there aren’t too many billionaire industrialists. I’d watched Wall Street and that’s how I expected everyone to be. Hideous and ruthless.’
‘So I take it you’ve survived? Not been chewed up and spat out?’
Not by Adam, maybe, thought Erin. But try his fiancée.
Julia Gold was too graceful to crouch on the floor like Erin, who had got the hem of her long midnight-blue dress dirty and dusty. Instead, Julia rested elegantly against a pillar and looked thoughtfully out at the lake, which had now turned black and was framed by the looming shadows of the cliffs surrounding it.
‘It’s funny,’ she said after a pause, ‘I never thought Adam would end up doing what he does. I don’t know how much you know about our family?’
Erin shrugged. She knew a little colour from a Forbes magazine feature she had read on Adam, but her boss gave out very little personal information on himself.
‘Adam’s grandfather Aaron was a very rich man, but Adam’s father didn’t inherit a cent because Aaron didn’t approve of our marriage. Adam’s father and I were happy and comfortable enough and we did our best for Adam, but we couldn’t really afford the fancy prep schools or those exclusive summer camps.’
She paused and looked back at the magnificent palazzo in the background. ‘Adam was very driven from an early age. He was good at everything, he made sure of it. He always used to say, “We’ll show grandfather, we don’t need him.” I don’t know if you know, but Adam is a wonderful artist. He had a place at Parsons to study graphics. But he didn’t think a career in art could make him money. Not the serious money he wanted, anyway. So he studied economics at Yale and dropped out when Wall Street came calling.’
‘I really didn’t have Adam down as the creative type,’ said Erin, genuinely shocked.
Julia shrugged and smiled. ‘Well, now he buys art instead of painting it. I still have some of his old drawings hung up in the house. They mean more to me than any Hockney.’
Erin thought of Julia’s very expensive Christmas present and winced.
‘And what do you want to do with your life, Erin?’ asked Julia suddenly.
‘Why do you ask?’
The old woman smiled kindly; even in the dark Erin could see the lines around her eyes crinkling with amusement. ‘I consider myself to be a fairly good judge of character, and I wouldn’t have put you in the ruthless world of business.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Erin. ‘Don’t tell your son that.’
Julia looked embarrassed. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. It was meant to be a compliment. And anyway, Adam thinks you’re marvellous.’
Erin felt her heart flutter. ‘Anyway, I wouldn’t say I’m “in the world of business”, as you put it,’ said Erin. ‘I’m only his executive assistant – his PA really. It started off as a way to make money while I was writing a book, but now Adam says I have a future with the company and that maybe I could eventually move into marketing or something …’
‘I knew it!’ Julia looked remarkably gratified. ‘I knew you were a creative soul.’
Once again, Erin didn’t know whether it was an insult or a compliment.
‘Well, don’t hold your breath, Mrs Gold,’ said Erin. ‘I think I’ve been sidetracked.’
‘Really?’ said Julia thoughtfully. ‘Well, let me ask you a question, then. Would you rather have a library lined with beautiful first editions or a bookshelf stacked with your own novels?’
‘Oh, the second one, definitely,’ said Erin immediately. ‘That’s what I’ve always wanted. Just to see a novel I’ve written in a bookshop.’
‘So why are you wasting your time with Adam?’ asked Julia.
The words ‘For the money’ were on the tip of her tongue, but she kept her mouth closed. But she could see that Julia was right. Who was she to look at Molly Sinclair, even Karin, and criticize them for money-grabbing and social climbing, when she was prepared to shelve her own ambition for a fat pay cheque?
‘I’ve written something I’m pretty pleased with. I gave it to my agent last week and he loves it too.’
‘Can I read it?’ asked Julia.
Erin hesitated before recognizing the enthusiasm in Julia’s eyes. ‘I have my laptop with me, but I’m sure you don’t want to read it at the party.’
‘I’m nearly seventy,’ smiled Julia, ‘it’s too boisterous for me back there. I want to be tucked up with a good book.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure, Erin. Now come on and impress me.’
Karin stood on the terrace of the palazzo’s master bedroom feeling a discomfort she couldn’t quite place. She had come upstairs for an aspirin, but she knew that her headache wasn’t the source of her disquiet. She leant against the balcony and looked out at the pool shimmering beneath her in the streaky silver moonlight. She shuddered, thinking back to the earlier scene with Erin Devereux, wondering if she been a little hard on her. There had been no reason to imply she was bitter and jealous; Erin was just a lonely, angry kid who had just discovered the grim truth about her father. Well I can empathize with that, she thought, kicking off her heels and sitting down on one of the balcony chairs. Karin knew full well that her father Terence Wenkle was the ruthless bully that Erin had described. Yes, she worshipped him, because he had treated her like a princess and told her she could be whatever she wanted to be in life. But she also knew he was a crook, a liar, a greedy con man who didn’t care who he walked over to get what he wanted. She remembered the first time she had heard the Devereuxs’ name. She had been ten. The Wenkles had moved from their Essex detached house to a mansion in Surrey with stables and a swimming pool, because ‘Daddy was doing so well.’ One evening, after she had been sent to bed, she was creeping downstairs for her new Sony Walkman cassette-player when she had heard the raised drunken voices of her parents. Not daring to go any further, she had waited on the top step, listening to her mother shouting at her father.
‘Terry, you shouldn’t have done it. You shouldn’t have made him drop all his clients if you knew you were going to drop him.’
‘Business is business. It’s not my fault if he trusted me.’
‘Think of his wife, Terry. Think of his little girl Erin. He killed himself because of you and now that little girl hasn’t got a dad.’
‘It’s not my fucking problem.’
Then Karin had heard the unmistakable sound of a backhanded slap followed by her mother’s scream. Karin had covered her ears with her palms to stop herself hearing any more and had run back to her room, hiding under the duvet, praying for it to stop. People had said that Karin’s steely ambition stemmed from the confidence Terence Wenkle had instilled in his daughter, but deep down Karin knew it was something else. Her desire to succeed was a desire for reinvention; to wipe clean all traces of Terence Wenkle from her life and forget that she was really just a gangster’s daughter from Essex.
She took a glug of water to wash down her aspirin and thought about heading back downstairs. It was gone midnight and out along the driveway she could see guests stepping into cars to take them back to the Villa d’Este, but the party was still in full swing. The sound of the jazz band floated up to the balcony, along with a rumble of merry conversation. Karin slipped her heels back on and turned to go back into the bedroom. Her fingers were on the brass door handle when she saw two shadows behind the thin voile curtain. Still suspicious of Adam’s womanizing, she froze, immediately wondering if he would have the audacity to bring anyone into their bedroom. It was Adam alright, but the other voice was male and it was raised, angry. Curiosity made her wait outside in the dark to listen.
‘Listen, don’t worry,’ said Adam, ‘the team are in place for the Astley Stores takeover. Marcus says the shares should bottom out any day now, then we can move. We just have to wait.’
The other voice seemed doubtful, anxious. ‘Retail really isn’t your bag, is it Adam? So why should I trust you? Everyone else says that Astley’s is a busted flush. String of profit warnings and no doubt more to come.’
Karin heard Adam laughing. ‘I told you not to worry, didn’t I? The Astley CFO has been on our payroll for the last eighteen months; he’s been helping to run the company down. That “busted flush”, as you put it, is now open to a sale. With a strong management team, we can easily turn the company around.’
The other voice sounded impressed.
‘You SOB, you have Astley’s CFO in your pocket? That’s genius!’
‘That’s only the half of it,’ continued Adam. ‘The real money is in the real estate. The Astley retail group owns a small logistics company that have derelict warehouses right in the middle of a riverside brownfield site in Wandsworth. Fifty-one per cent of the company is owned by the Astley family, but they won’t authorize a sale of the warehouses because they’ve been land-banking it for years.’
‘Who owns the rest of the site?’
Adam laughed again. ‘Me. Through various companies, of course. We got it cheap because the Astley land was blocking any sort of development. Who else would want it?’
Karin could hear the other voice laughing now. Curiosity got the better of her and she quickly snatched a look at the man Adam was talking to. She recognized him as Jonathan Parsons, the chairman of Murray and Spink, a major investment bank whom Adam had introduced to her earlier in the evening.
‘Once we get control of Astley Retail and transfer the Wandsworth land to Midas, it becomes a fifty-acre riverside side worth two hundred and fifty million. I’ve already got a raft of investors lined up to build the biggest shopping mall in South London.’
‘And your share prices go up even further …’
Adam laughed again. ‘Call your broker. Buy Astley. Buy Midas Property, my friend. You can’t lose. Now, what do you have for me?’
‘How does Ginsui, the electronics company, take your fancy? Computech are about to make a move on it. An announcement is being made this week.’
Karin stood outside, goosebumps on her skin. She had a plan and she knew it was a beauty. What Adam was talking about was share manipulation and insider dealing. Not just the grey-area, skirting-round-the-edges-of-the-law sort of stuff she knew many big businesses indulged in. No, this sort of dirty play could get you two years inside. She could now hear Adam laughing. ‘I’ll put a call into my broker immediately so he can move on it as soon as trading opens on Monday.’
She heard the door click, as if Jonathan was leaving the room, and then heard Adam make a call to his broker; she waited outside on the terrace until she was sure Adam had left the room. For a second she thought of her father and shivered in the cool night air. But then she looked around her – the magical setting of Palazzo Verdi, the twelve-carat diamond sitting on her finger, the party filled with the most important people in society. And she pushed Terence Wenkle out of her mind. She’d come too far to get distracted by principles now.
Summer was sitting by the fountain in the palazzo’s courtyard, letting her hand trail in the cool water, when she saw Adam descending the sweeping flight of stairs from the bedrooms. He was lighting up a cigar and heading in her direction. She felt a rush of butterflies as he came nearer, then a flood of disappointment as she realized he hadn’t yet seen her.
‘Oh, hello. I haven’t seen you all evening.’ Adam gave a weak smile, but he looked her up and down approvingly.
‘Can we go somewhere to talk?’ Summer’s voice faltered as she said the words. Adam’s eyes darted around and he looked distracted, unwilling. He took a puff of his cigar.
‘Listen, I haven’t seen Karin in about half an hour,’ he said. ‘I’d better go and find her because some guests are beginning to leave already.’
She could tell he was in no mood for a quickie in the flower-beds. Though that was not what she had in mind anyway.
‘Please Adam, I just need a few minutes in private.’
‘It’s hardly private at my engagement party,’ he said with a small smile. ‘Okay, there’s a rose garden behind that line of trees. I’ll come in a few minutes.’
It was almost pitch-black at their rendezvous point; just a little amber light trickled into the circle of tall, spindly rose bushes at the back of the house. Summer sat on a wooden bench feeling isolated and uneasy, until she heard the sound of footsteps on the grass, and then Adam was standing there holding a glass of champagne. One glass. Not two. He sat down next to her and said, ‘You look beautiful.’ He said it almost apologetically.
Summer shrugged. She knew she looked good. She’d had her hair freshly highlighted at Aveda, plus four hours of treatments at the Bliss spa, telling herself it was in preparation for the job in Milan, but knowing in her heart of hearts it was to look her very best for this evening.
She’d been rehearsing what to say to Adam ever since she realized what might be happening to her body but, sitting here in the semi-dark with his knee pressing lightly against hers, she knew that she just had to spit it out.
‘Adam. I’m pregnant.’
There was silence. She looked at his profile in the dark and saw his Adam’s apple bob slowly up and down. His gaze remained fixed in front of him. ‘Are you sure?’ he said finally.
Summer almost laughed out loud. ‘My period has gone AWOL. I’m never late.’
‘That doesn’t mean much, does it? I mean you hardly eat anything. That plays havoc with your system.’
She’d told him a few weeks earlier that she’d been bulimic in her late teens, but she was surprised he would throw it back at her now.
‘And I’ve taken a test.’
He stood up and anxiously rubbed his mouth with his hand. ‘Jesus, Summer. Nice thing to drop into conversation at my fucking engagement party.’
‘When did you want me to tell you? In nine months’ time?’
He paced back and forth and took a deep slug of champagne. Finally he sat back down and touched her knee gently.
‘Look. When you get back to London, see a doctor. Get it confirmed. Home tests aren’t always accurate. Anyway. What about your movie role? That doesn’t fit in with having a baby.’
Summer didn’t need a doctor to tell her that her body felt different, the swell of her breasts just a little more round. ‘Adam, we’re going to have a baby. That means more to me than any role in a bloody film.’
His jaw tightened and he met her gaze. ‘Summer, I’m getting married,’ he said slowly.
She knew what he was trying to say. That a baby with her was not part of the equation. Summer bit her lip to stop a hot rush of tears welling up. ‘Adam, it’s not too late,’ she said, her voice pleading. ‘You’re not married yet.’
He was looking more and more angry now. ‘Don’t even think about it, Summer.’ His voice was low, controlled and steely.
‘Think what?’
He carried on looking at her, his lips curling aggressively. Summer tried to catch a breath but it wouldn’t come.
‘Why can’t we be together?’ she asked, her voice quavering.
‘Because I’m getting married. How many times do I have to say it?’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘You’re a stunning girl, Summer, but I love Karin. This is the first time in my life I’ve been willing to make this sort of commitment, and there can’t be any complications.’
Summer couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now and Adam found himself putting an awkward arm around her shoulders.
‘What’s wrong with me?’ she sobbed into his jacket.
‘Shit, Summer.’ He exhaled and stroked her hair. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you. We’ve been having a great time, haven’t we? If I hadn’t met Karin, then who knows, but I did and I love her and I’m sorry if you’ve got the wrong impression. I would be lying to you if I said anything different.’
Summer jumped up and glared at him, wiping her tears away vehemently with her fingers. ‘You selfish shit!’ she sobbed.
Adam stood and drank the last of his champagne, tossing the flute into the bushes. ‘Look. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
‘I’m going to bloody Milan tomorrow,’ she cried.
‘Well, we’ll talk when you get back.’ He paused awkwardly. ‘We’ll sort something out.’
‘Thanks,’ she spat under her breath as she watched him leave the rose garden. ‘Thanks for nothing at all.’
In the master bedroom, Karin unzipped her sheer red Valentino gown and let it shimmer to the ground until she was standing there in just her La Perla bra and thong and her four-inch, crystal-encrusted heels. Adam slipped off his dinner jacket, threw it over a chair and walked over to her, smiling as he undid the buttons of his white shirt.
‘A successful evening I’d say, Miss Cavendish,’ he said, taking her hand and leading her to the bed. Karin lay back on the cool linen and shut her eyes, feeling Adam kiss her ankles and then work up her long, bronzed legs with feathery brushes of his lips.
‘Mmmm,’ she murmured contentedly. ‘That’s good. You did seem a little distracted this evening, though. Is everything alright?’
Adam took off his shirt while Karin sat up and unbuttoned his trousers. He shrugged. ‘No, everything’s fine. More than fine, in fact.’
He pulled Karin towards him to kiss him and she lowered her lips down over his firm stomach, her fingers peeling down his cotton boxers until her face brushed his hardening cock. She pushed him on his back and kneeled to straddle him. Lowering her head so her long hair brushed over his thighs she took the tip of him into her mouth and moved her tongue in delicate circles, lower and lower until the lips were moving up and down the whole of his cock, fast, slow, hard, soft. She knew how to pleasure a man while being totally in control; she’d made it her life’s work. He was groaning and grabbing her head to push himself deeper and deeper into her mouth. She lowered her mouth so far down him that the tip of his cock hit the back of her throat and his springy pubic hair brushed her lips. Then, suddenly, she pulled away, uncoiling her body back up to look at him.
‘Fuck, Karin what are you doing? I was almost done.’
Still straddling him, her high heels pushed down on the bed, she put her hands on her hips, knowing she looked like a wanton Amazon towering above him.
‘I know why you were distracted tonight,’ she smiled.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I heard your conversation with Jonathan Parsons earlier. In the bedroom,’ she said. ‘I was on the terrace.’
She got off the bed purposefully and picked up a white Frette gown and slipped it on.
Adam lay there for a second, naked, his cock still rigid, before a look of exposed vulnerability clouded his expression and he pulled the sheet over him.
There was a padded gilt Louis XV chair in the corner of the room and Karin sank into it, crossing her legs so that the robe opened and flashed a long expanse of thigh.
‘I’m not sure what you heard, Karin, but it was business,’ he said tersely. ‘My business. Business you don’t know anything about.’
She stared at him, knowing she had to play it carefully. This was her roll of the dice. She could win big, or her whole house of cards could come tumbling down.
‘Adam, I know enough about business to know that what you were talking about is illegal.’
‘Honey, please. Stay out of this.’
‘I’m going to be your wife, Adam,’ she cooed. ‘I think I deserve to know if my husband might be looking at a jail sentence this time next year.’
‘Quit it, Karin.’
‘No, I won’t quit it. I am here to support you. We’re a team. I want to know your business. I’m big enough to handle the truth.’ She smiled a smug little smile.
Adam took a sip of water from a crystal tumbler by the bedside table and looked at her for a long moment.
‘Obviously you discuss this with no one.’
‘Obviously.’
Adam smiled. There was a hint of arrogance about it that Karin didn’t like. ‘So, come back to bed,’ he said, patting the bed beside him. ‘I was enjoying myself.’
‘I just want it to be worth my while,’ said Karin, fixing him with her gaze.
‘And by that you mean …?’
‘If I am going to support you, I don’t want to feel vulnerable.’
‘Why the fuck would you feel vulnerable?’
‘Because you want to get married in the States.’
‘Well, yes,’ he said. ‘I thought the house in Miami would be perfect. It’s private. Nobu can do the catering, but I thought I would leave all the planning to you.’
‘I’m not a bloody fool, Adam,’ snapped Karin, standing up. ‘You want to get married in the States because you want a pre-nup.’
There. She had said it. The p-word. The elephant at the table. Everyone knew that a pre-nup was not worth the paper it was written on in Britain but, if a couple married abroad, and one of the partnership was American, it was another story.
Adam shifted uncomfortably and pulled the sheet a little tighter around his body. ‘Come on, honey. Let’s not talk about this at our engagement party.’
‘We need to talk about it, Adam. When better?’
‘Look,’ he said finally. ‘And this has nothing to do with my respect for you or the hopes I have for our marriage, but I have got to safeguard my position. I’ve seen too many men screwed over, companies ruined.’
‘Don’t talk about companies ruined, Adam, bearing in mind your little conversation earlier with Jonathan. If someone blew the whistle to the FSA about what you’ve been up to, I think you’d be in serious trouble.’
Adam shrugged. He had faced far more ruthless negotiators than Karin and come off the victor. ‘You have no proof whatsoever,’ he said.
‘Oh, the FSA can be very thorough in their investigations. Haven’t you just put a call in to your broker to buy twenty-seven thousand shares in Ginsui. That will leave a trail.’
Adam raised his eyebrows and nodded. ‘Look, when we get back home I will call my lawyer in New York. I will talk to Marcus and we can work something out, Karin. I want a pre-nup. I need a pre-nup, but that doesn’t mean I want to shaft you over either. They can work two ways, and I will be more than accommodating.’
‘I don’t want a pre-nup.’
‘So what do you want?’ he said, lifting an eyebrow.
‘I want a share in the company.’
‘I don’t own all the shares in the company.’
‘So? Adam, transfer some of your shares over to me. You have enough of them, for heaven’s sake. I need to safeguard my position. Particularly as what I know puts me in a very uncomfortable position.’
‘Are you trying to blackmail me?’
Karin put her hands on her hips, her robe falling open. ‘Adam. This is not blackmail, it’s self-preservation. You would do the same. But don’t forget …’ She slipped her robe off completely and stood at the end of the bed, unhooking her bra and peeling off her panties slowly.
‘Don’t forget what?’ said Adam, unable to tear his eyes away from her body.
‘That so long as we’re together and happy, we are on the same side,’ she whispered, crawling onto the bed, naked except for her heels, ready to finish what she’d started earlier.