B004D4Y20I EBOK (48 page)

Tara held out her hand but her eyes were cold. ‘So you’re the man who wants to buy our company,’ she said.

‘Well …’ Ferrera looked momentarily discomforted but quickly regained his suave self-possession. He shook her hand. ‘I don’t think this is quite the place to discuss business, do you?’

Tara’s voice sounded precise and clipped after Ferrera’s smooth American accent. ‘Surely this is an excellent place. We’re here to celebrate your business success, aren’t we? So I ought to let you know that Trevellyan is most definitely not for sale.’

Ferrera raised his eyebrows. ‘I’ve already got that impression from your sister,’ he said calmly, a small smile playing about his lips. ‘But it’s good to know for sure. Well, I wish you as much success with your venture as I’ve had with mine.’

Tara looked a little disconcerted by the businessman’s politeness. Then she frowned and said pointedly, ‘I suppose it all depends whether we’re keen
to
use the same
methods
to get the results you achieve. Not everyone is as ruthless as you are, you know.’

‘Tara,’ said Jemima quickly. What was wrong with her sister? Did she have any idea of how rude she sounded? For God’s sake, this man might end up being their only hope, after all. Jemima laughed. ‘Oh, Richard won’t know you’re teasing him!’

‘I don’t know if I’ll ever understand the British sense of humour,’ Richard said. He stared straight into Tara’s eyes. ‘You’re very like your sister, though. She’s always disarming me with her approach to life.’

‘Is she now? Let’s just hope that’s all she disarms!’ exclaimed Tara, and then stopped, looking confused. She swayed slightly. ‘I mean … she is a married woman, you know!’

Oh Christ, she’s drunk
, thought Jemima. Smiling at Ferrera, she said swiftly, ‘You must excuse Tara, she’s been through a very stressful time lately. I’ll just take her to have a quick sit down.’ She grabbed Tara by the arm and started to steer her away. ‘And we have an appointment elsewhere, so we have to go, don’t we, Tara? This is a gorgeous party, Richard, thank you so much for asking us …’

Jemima, wait, I have something I must tell you,’ began Ferrera, frowning. ‘I need to have a private word with you –’

‘Sorry, Richard, we have to go to the Music Room. I’ll find you afterwards.’ She continued out of the room, pulling Tara with her. ‘Why the hell were you so rude?’ she hissed as they went. ‘Do you know how bad that looked?’

Tara hiccupped slightly. ‘I’ve just had it up to here with fucking businessmen who spend their lives lying and cheating and helping themselves and destroying what others have created. They’re all fucking crooks!’

‘You’re drunk, aren’t you? How much have you had?’ demanded Jemima.

‘I’m not drunk. I’ve had champagne and then I met Vince Fowler and we had cocktails together. Two or three, I think.’

‘Tara, you get pissed after one glass of wine. What are you doing drinking cocktails on top of champagne?’

Tara leaned in to her sister and said confidentially, her voice slurring slightly, ‘Vince gave me the low-down on Ferrera. He’s got inside knowledge. Mimi, Ferrera’s going to destroy Erin de Cristo! She’s going to be voted off the board, lose creative control, everything! It’ll be a disaster for her. It’s the way he works.’

‘How does Vince know this?’ Jemima frowned.

‘He heard it from a man who works for one of the FFB subsidiaries.’

‘So it’s rumour.’ Jemima looked round swiftly to make sure no one had heard Tara. ‘Look, just because Gerald turned out to be a crook it doesn’t mean Ferrera is too …’ she caught a glimpse of her sister’s face. ‘That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?’

Tara looked stricken. ‘I don’t know …’

‘Look, you must pull yourself together. We’re going to have our photo taken. We have to look radiantly happy, without a care in the world. Please, Tara, please try …’

Tara sighed. ‘All right. I’ll do my best.’ ‘Good. Now let’s go and get you some iced water and coffee.’

‘You have skin just like mine,’ said the girl as Poppy sewed up the seam of her dress. ‘It’s hell, isn’t it, being so fair? Everyone else can go out in the sun and get a lovely tan. Not us. It’s factor seventy for me, baggy T-shirts, hats and sarongs all the way.’

She was really ravishing, Poppy thought, and that soft Irish voice was gorgeous. ‘Yes. But it has its compensations, I suppose. Sometimes I like being pale and interesting beside everyone else with their bronzed skin.’

‘Yeah, me too. Is it nearly finished?’

‘Almost. Just a stitch or two more and you’ll be done.’

A woman came bursting into the cloakroom. ‘Neave? Neave? Are you in here?’

‘Here I am,’ said the girl calmly. ‘I had a dress emergency.’

‘What happened?’ demanded the woman anxiously, pressing into the cubicle and ignoring Poppy completely.

‘The damn thing tore. This kind angel of mercy is helping me.’

‘Oh. Look, Neave, we have to get out and mingle. I’ve got this huge producer lined up to talk to you. He can’t wait.’

Oh!
thought Poppy, realising who the girl was.
This is the model Jemima was so keen on. No wonder, she’s stunningly beautiful
.

‘This is my agent, Caroline,’ explained Neave with a smile, refusing to be rushed by the other woman. ‘Caroline, this is Poppy.’

‘Great to meet you, Poppy, and thanks for your help but we’ve really got to get a move on …’

‘You’re finished,’ Poppy said, biting off the thread. ‘That should hold.’

‘Listen, thanks so much. I really owe you one.’ Neave smiled at her. ‘Caroline, do you have any of my cards on you?’

‘Sure, sure.’ The agent scrabbled in her purse for a card and held one out to Poppy.

‘No,’ said Neave. ‘One of my personal cards.’ She turned to Poppy. ‘Those are my business ones, with Caro’s details on them.’

Caroline handed Poppy a pale grape-coloured card engraved with the word ‘Neave’ in curling letters. Underneath were various telephone numbers and email addresses.

‘We’d better go,’ Neave said, as her agent fussed around her. ‘I’ve got to charm all these very important people, apparently. Lovely to meet you.’

‘Lovely to meet you too,’ said Poppy. ‘Bye.’

She watched as the model and her agent left the cloakroom, staring after them thoughtfully for a while. Then she suddenly remembered her own appointment and hurried out to join the others in the Music Room.

Photographers and journalists, alerted by Jemima, were waiting in the Music Room. Jemima and Tara were already there, looking anxiously for Poppy.
Jemima’s
relief when she saw her sister come into the room was evident.

‘Hello, darling!’ she called smoothly. ‘We’re all ready for you.’

Poppy went over and the three sisters stood together, Jemima in the middle and Poppy and Tara on either side of her, the delicate ice-cream tones of their dresses contrasting beautifully with each other.

The photographers began to click away, pleased with the harmonious group, the blonde, the brunette and the redhead, matching but not identical. People began to gravitate into the Music Room to see what was happening and who was being photographed. Their name began to be muttered.

This is working!
thought Jemima happily.
Despite Tara’s attempts to fuck it up by getting pissed and being so rude. What the hell was she thinking? We may need that man …

She turned this way and that for the photographers, enjoying the attention and the admiring eyes and envious glances of the other women in the room.

We’re going to get good press tomorrow
, she thought, pleased with her efforts.
Tea Rose and Trevellyan will be everywhere
.

She became aware suddenly of someone walking to the front of the press pack, stalking in front of the lenses. It was a woman in a rich, scarlet gown that fell to the floor. Her dark hair was piled high on top of her head and her mouth was a red slash of scarlet. A ruby necklace glittered at her throat. She stood in front of the three sisters, her arms folded and a smirk on her face.

Oh my God!
Jemima gasped with shock. ‘Jecca!’ she said, astonished.

She felt the other two stiffen with surprise, too shocked to say a word. Before them was the girl, now a woman, on whom they had not laid eyes for years. At sixteen she had left the family home. At eighteen she had vanished without trace. Now she stood before them, unutterably glamorous with her dark, Italian colouring and flashing brown eyes.

‘Hello,’ she said, a sardonic smile twisting her mouth.

Tara had turned dead white. ‘What are you doing here?’ she managed to say.

‘That’s a lovely way to greet the sister you haven’t seen in seven years,’ Jecca declared loudly. She obviously wanted everyone in the room to hear. A silence obligingly fell, as journalists scribbled furiously on their notepads and everyone waited to hear what would happen next.
Sister?
You could almost hear the word reverberating through everyone’s minds.
Another Trevellyan sister?

Jemima felt sick and her legs almost buckled beneath her. She clung on to Poppy for strength. Poppy was staring at Jecca as though she were seeing a ghost.

‘If you must know, I came here to see you.’ Jecca moved slowly along the row of photographers and journalists, staring at each sister in turn. ‘It’s been so long, hasn’t it,
darling
sisters? You’ve all quite grown up. Tara, you really should try and put some weight on, darling. You’re all skin and bone. Is it still the bulimia?
Or
is that villain you’re married to treating you badly? Poppy, you’ve blossomed into a lovely young woman. You had such promise. But no doubt the other two are doing their best to turn you into a boring, money-loving princess, just like them. As for you, Jemima …’ Jecca sniggered, ‘… from what I’ve heard, you’re still the biggest whore in town. No wonder your husband has thrown you out.’

There was an audible murmur of interest around the room. The journalists could not get Jecca’s words down fast enough.

Jemima felt a cold chill of horror in her stomach. This was her worst nightmare. Everything was unravelling. She realised that Ferrera was standing in the doorway, watching everything, his face like thunder. He must be appalled, having his party ruined by the Trevellyan sisters like this. How had Jecca managed to arrange this revenge?

She wasn’t finished yet.

‘I wanted to see the three of you because I have to let you know that I’m not about to let you cheat me out of my inheritance.’ Jecca whirled round to face the journalists. She held out her arm, indicating the Trevellyan women. ‘I grew up with these people. I am their adopted sister. But they have tried to deny me my legal right to share their inheritance. I’m here to tell you all now that I refuse to let that happen. I am entitled to my share and I intend to sue you for a quarter of the percentage you own between you.’ Jecca paused to let this bombshell sink in, then she smiled the most charming, seductive smile she could produce.
‘It
will be a hard battle. I’ve no doubt you bitches will do all you can to stop me. I’m sure you’ll use your money to put up the best fight you can. But I don’t care, because I can count on the support and help of my darling partner.’ Jecca spun to face the door and blew a kiss in Ferrera’s direction. Everyone turned to look at him as Jecca cooed, ‘My adorable Richard will be with me every step of the way.’

41

FERRERA WAS FURIOUS
. Jecca had never seen him so enraged. It was almost dawn but neither of them felt in the least tired, they were too keyed up by the dramas of the evening. Ferrera had managed to keep a lid on his anger until they reached the privacy of the master bedroom in his opulent Kensington apartment. Then he had turned on Jecca, asking her what the hell she thought she was doing. His fury was all the more chilling for the way he remained outwardly calm and in control: only the ice in his eyes, the set of his mouth and the muscle twitching in one cheek betrayed how deeply angry he was.

‘You knew I intended to confront them,’ Jecca said haughtily, tossing her head. She wasn’t about to let Richard see how his rage was making her frightened.

‘You were going to speak to them privately – not in front of the fucking press! Do you know what’s going to be all over the papers tomorrow? Huh? Not the great success of my ravishing and unbelievably expensive
party!
Not the superb partnership with de Cristo! No – some bitch fight between rich girls who can’t agree who gets the biggest diamond! Jecca, you’ve gone too far.’

‘I don’t see why.’ Jecca was stubborn. ‘I did what I had to do. It won’t damage you in the long run. It means you might get your hands on Trevellyan sooner rather than later.’

Ferrera snorted in frustration. ‘You don’t get it, do you? I don’t like your methods, Jecca, I don’t like them at all. You hijacked the evening, even though you knew how much it meant to me.’

‘You can talk.’ Jecca’s eyes flashed with passion. ‘Your methods can be pretty questionable at times. Besides, I couldn’t bear it any more. I hated the way you’ve been flirting with Jemima! I wanted it finished. Now it is.’

‘You know perfectly well there was nothing in that,’ Ferrera said, exasperated. ‘You know exactly why I had to do it.’

‘Perhaps – but I’d had enough!’ She rustled her skirts like a flamenco dancer preparing to strike the opening pose.

‘Jecca, let’s get something straight. We do this my way, or not at all, do you understand? You are not to blunder in like this again. You might have spoiled everything – we’ll just have to see what the fall-out is tomorrow.’ Ferrera walked over to a small Louis XVI sofa, put his hands on the delicate carved back and sighed. He was a master of control and he wasn’t about to let Jecca see how disgusted he was with her
stupid,
little-girl tricks. Did this mean his association with the Trevellyan sisters was at an end? Goddamn it, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Not only could it damage his business ambitions but it meant no more intimate business dinners, and while he never intended to take his flirtation with Jemima anywhere, couldn’t he at least enjoy the company of an intelligent, witty woman from time to time – one who didn’t start screaming at him at the smallest provocation? And that older sister, Tara … He almost smiled remembering her indignant tipsiness. What on earth had she been talking about? It didn’t really matter, he’d been too struck by her looks and the curious mixture of strength and vulnerability he could sense in her to pay too much attention.