Socialite's Gamble

Her reputation was riding on her holding it together tonight and it was past time she looked out for herself instead of waiting for someone—Aidan—to come along and do it for her.

It was time for Juliet to grow a backbone and not let the loss of Romeo destroy her life.

Which was easier said than done when she knew how Juliet must have felt. Knew that her heart would have felt like someone had driven a knife right through the centre of it, the pain completely debilitating.

Sucking in a deep breath before her thoughts took a downwards spiral Cara placed her hand over her stomach and drew her spine up tall. She was fine. Or at least she would be fine. One day.

‘Aidan’s really busy right now but I think he’ll be flying in sometime next week. But why don’t you go home, Cilla? You look tired.’

And maybe it would be easier to pretend that her life didn’t feel like it was hanging over the edge of a cliff without her sister’s observant eyes on her all night.

‘What about you? You must be feeling jet-lagged yourself.’

Cara felt numb most of the time and between that and yesterday’s tortured tears it seemed to stave off the jet lag. ‘I’ll be fine. Really. Harriet said I was a shoo-in.’

Lucilla hesitated. ‘I should stay.’

‘You’re no good to me if you fall over with exhaustion. Go home. I’ll text you.’

‘Are you sure you don’t need me? I could—’

Cara put her hand on her sister’s arm. ‘You’ve always been there for me and I’m not sure I’ve ever told you how much it meant to me as a child. But I’m fine. Really.’ She smiled. ‘Please … You look shattered.’

As shattered as Cara probably looked beneath her carefully applied makeup.

‘It’s Christos. I swear he’s the most … I don’t even know how to describe him!’ Lucilla blazed, a curious light entering her eyes.

Lucilla had mentioned the tension between her and Giatrakos, but she had never seen Lucilla react like this before, and although Cara’s curiosity was well and truly piqued as to what was going on with her sister, she knew that now was not the time to pursue it.

Instead she leaned forward and kissed Lucilla’s cheek. ‘I’m a big girl now. Stop worrying.’

Lucilla heaved a sigh. ‘Okay.’

Cara watched her exit the swanky room and then turned back to the glittering crowd still in attendance. Usually, if she found herself alone in a crowd like this she wanted to run and hide because she knew almost everyone here was waiting for her to do something outrageous, every one of them holding their breaths in case the wild child struck again.

Well, she didn’t intend to tonight.

Tonight, she was showcasing not only herself but Jenny’s pearls that Aidan had given her.

Before leaving the island Cara had approached Jenny with the idea of importing her pearls and setting them up on the world stage.

Jenny had been overwhelmed and Cara had told her they’d start small. That she would buy a few pieces and wear them herself and see how they were received. If tonight was anything to go by, Jenny was going to need to open a factory.

‘Miss Chatsfield, you look radiant tonight.’

Oh, no. She smiled at the elegant white-haired patriarch of the Demarche Group and sucked in her stomach. This was showtime.

‘Thank you, Monsieur Demarche. I hope you’re having a great evening.’

‘Most definitely. And may I say that you look very elegant, my dear.’

Cara stared down at her navy blue gown. It was the most conservative piece of clothing she owned and if she wasn’t wearing Jenny’s pearls to lift the garment she’d feel completely boring. ‘Thank you so much. It’s such a pleasure to be here. I really appreciate you giving me this opportunity tonight.’

‘I have to say, after last week, I wasn’t sure which way to play this. You’re a beautiful girl, Miss Chatsfield, but that Vegas hoopla came as a shock. As was the news that you and Aidan Kelly were an item. Tell me, my dear, is it serious?’ He gazed around at the nearby guests and frowned. ‘I would have expected to see him here with you tonight.’

And was her winning the contract riding on that? Cara frowned. And more importantly, did she want to win it if it was?

She recalled the paparazzi outside the hotel screaming the same question at her when her limousine had pulled up at the main entrance. This time she’d had the benefit of security and a barricade so she’d effortlessly deflected those questions by pretending that she hadn’t heard them.

Unfortunately the only thing between her and the regal Monsieur Demarche was thin air, so pretending she hadn’t heard him was probably not going to go down very well. Nor would walking off, but that was exactly what she felt like doing.