She didn’t say anything for a few moments and then looked up at him with her enormous aquamarine eyes.
‘Honey, this is a really great career move for me. Imagine how many celebrities, agents and PRs I’m going to meet. And the truth is you’ll probably have a better time with Polly on your own.’
Rob blinked at her. Suddenly all the anger he’d felt building just drifted away.
‘O K, Jess, you go to Milan.’
Jessica batted her eyelids and tilted her head.
‘Are you sure you’re not angry with me?’
He forced a smile. He didn’t want to spoil Emma’s party with a scene.
‘Of course not.’
‘In that case let me go and find us a couple of cocktails to celebrate.’
He watched her go, that perfect ass and those long, long legs. Just another woman passing in and out of his bed, another notch on the headboard. Except this one had got close. This time it had been a near miss.
In a stunning duplex apartment in Knightsbridge, the book-launch party for ‘Cassandra Grand: On Style’ was also going strong. Looking sensational in a backless, sequinned Galliano cocktail dress, the author smiled for her audience, gliding around the party signing books and giving quotes to journalists, while secretly seething that this, her party, wasn’t the only game in town.
‘I can’t believe you’re going already,’ whispered Cassandra to her mother.
‘Darling, you know how much being here means to me but I have at least to show my face at Milford. I do part-own the company.’
‘But this is my launch party,’ she said angrily, struggling to keep a smile on her face in case someone should look over.
‘I can stay another ten minutes but it’s really most unfortunate scheduling. I wish the two parties hadn’t been on the same night.’
The real reason for Cassandra’s fury was not that her mother was leaving after two hours. It was that at least a dozen key guests including two broadsheet fashion editors, the MDs of three major fashion houses and several celebrities hadn’t turned up at all. Max might have called it a pot-shot, but she hadn’t been able to resist asking her publishers to have her book launch on the same night as the Milford party. That would wipe the smile off Emma Bailey’s face, she had thought, when her company’s big splash was like the Mary Celeste. But while her launch was well attended, Cassandra’s anticipated victory was not quite as glorious as she had expected it to be. She was still cursing Emma for forcing her into such a tactical lapse, when Ruby trotted over to give her grandmother a goodbye hug. Ruby had obtained a special dispensation to come for the night and had brought along two friends from school, Pandor
a and Amaryllis, sisters whose father was a Greek shipping magnate. This particular news had pleased Cassandra no end, almost enough to forgive the girls’ appearance. Overcome at being invited to a real fashion party, they had gone to town with their outfits, hair and make-up. Short skirts showed off their very long legs and no one would have guessed their ages.
‘Ruby, are you going to be all right staying here?’ said Julia kissing her grand-daughter on the forehead and trying to mask her concern. She had spotted men old enough to be their fathers, grandfathers even, eyeing up the girls all evening.
‘Nah, it’s fine. We’re having a wicked time here,’ said Ruby, taking a slurp of orange juice. Julia hoped that it was just orange juice in there. One heard such stories.
Cassandra watched her daughter run back into the thick of the party. As she turned, she glanced out onto the balcony and froze. Max and Laura were standing talking in the balmy night air. What the hell was he doing here? She certainly hadn’t invited him but he had come anyway – and he had come with his wife. His daring sent a flush of lust along her skin; the sense of danger of having Laura at his side, oblivious to everything that was going on, only heightened Cassandra’s emotions. As soon as she saw Laura head towards the ladies’ room, she murmured an excuse to her mother and headed out onto the balcony.
‘I assume you’re not going down to the Milford party,’ whispered Max into her ear, the breath on her neck almost making Cassandra moan.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped, pulling away and grabbing a flute of pink champagne. ‘It will be full of scavengers on the hunt for a free bag. Emma’s so tight they’ll be lucky to get a spring roll and a glass of cava. But forget her, what are you …’
‘Cassandra, darling!’ said Alison Edmonds, interrupting. The tall, imposing managing director of publisher Leighton Best bustled over. ‘I just had to tell you I think the book is absolutely fabulous,’ she said, giggling at her own joke.
Cassandra smiled weakly.
‘The Christmas book of this year, I don’t doubt it.’
She grabbed a canapé and popped it in her mouth, leaving a few flakes of crostini on her top lip. ‘Now, I know this was a one-book deal, I know you’re incredibly busy doing other things but we see you as a very important author for Leighton Best. Jenny Bond said you’ve got a number of ideas up your sleeve. What was this idea she said you had about Christian Dior?’
Cassandra waved a manicured hand dismissively in the air.
‘Let’s not talk about work tonight.’
‘Quel dommage,’ she smiled. ‘Fabulous venue, by the way. I wish all our authors could pull strings like you can. Anyway, mustn’t keep you from all your friends,’ she said with a wink, moving off again.
Cassandra turned to find Max gone. Instead, Giles was standing there looking at her, stony-faced.