As always, though, he tended to forget this fact when he was caught in the grip of his own excitement and now, as she watched his face, assessing and judging, she leaned forward, pushing the sheet from her body, whispering breathily, ‘Nicky, Nicky… I’m so hungry for you. Where’s my big bad playmate? I want to give him a nice big kiss and…’
How predictable some men could be, she reflected—and how boring… How infantile. Nick wasn’t the first of her lovers to respond eagerly to the kind of language which would have been disdained by any intelligent three-year-old. There were others, of course, who preferred a different kind of verbal foreplay, liberally sprinkled with plenty of four-letter words, but Nick wasn’t one of them.
‘Don’t worry about Fern,’ she repeated soothingly. ‘Once she knows about the baby she’ll have no option but to give you a divorce. We can sweeten things for her, of course. She’ll get the house and…’
‘The house? No…’
Venice drew back and looked at him, lifting one eyebrow in surprised amusement.
‘Darling, you can’t possibly want to keep the wretched place. And besides, think how odd it would look if you didn’t let her have it. Remember, from now on you’re going to have to think of your public image.’
She smiled coaxingly at him, wrinkling her nose, adding, ‘We can’t afford to have people suggesting that you’re treating her badly, Nick. It’s unfortunate that she’s managed to create such a public role of little helper for herself. Of course, the fact that I’m having your baby is bound to sway a lot of public opinion our way, and we can always help it along by arranging for discreet hints to be dropped that she wasn’t perhaps the perfect wife that everyone believed.’
Nick tensed.
‘What do you mean?’ Despite the fact that he himself had threatened Fern with it often enough, the last thing he wanted was for her fling with Adam to become public knowledge.
Venice shrugged. ‘Oh, nothing too over the top. Just the fact that perhaps, although she was a wonderful housekeeper, she was not so wonderful in other departments. That should get the men on your side, and some of the women, and let’s face it, it would be the truth, wouldn’t it? You told me yourself that she was useless in bed. But, as I just said, I don’t think we’ll have too much trouble getting public opinion on your side, especially if we… you’ve been seen to behave generously financially towards her. After all, divorce is no really big deal these days, not if it’s done discreetly and quietly.’
‘That house is mine! I—’
‘Nick, darling, think! You’re going to be a politician… you’ll have power and prestige. What does the house matter? I… we could buy half a dozen like it and scarcely notice the cost.’
She had his attention now. Greed was always a great motivator, as she had good cause to know.
‘Stop worrying about Fern,’ she told him, smiling secretively to herself as she lied. ‘I know you don’t want to hurt her, but we have to put our baby, ourselves first, don’t we? Just leave everything to me.’
He gave in, as she had known he would. After all, she had made a very thorough assessment of his personality before laying her plans.
As he slept beside her she looked at him. He really was perfect: vain and egotistical enough to be easily blinded by his own importance, charismatic enough, physically and outwardly at least, to appeal to voters. Greedy enough for all the material benefits she could give him to be compelled to stay within their marriage. She had no intention of marrying a man and turning him into a powerful political force only to be forced to abdicate from her chosen throne by some manipulative little vixen who wanted to take her place.
No, this marriage would be for life. Getting Nick to agree to it had been the easy part.
Getting the local electorate to accept him would be equally easy, and once that was done… Nick was young enough…
Nick would be a gift to the media, the political equivalent of the Royal Family’s clever adoption of the Princess of Wales.
He was young, good-looking and, most important of all as far as she was concerned, so self-centred and wrapped up in himself that it would never dawn on him that she was controlling and manipulating him. Through Nick she would have what she had always wanted: power!
He wasn’t particularly good in bed, of course, but then she had always felt that sex found its best and most exciting expression outside the marriage bond.
She had it all planned. Once the news of the break-up of his marriage became public they would, outwardly at least, adopt a repentant, guilty awareness of being the ones to blame. They would vocally and repeatedly announce how sorry they were for hurting Fern… how swept away they had been by their love, how compelled to do the best thing for everyone, but most especially for their child. Nick would later then be able to adopt that excellent and well-proven route to the voters’ hearts of claiming to represent good old-fashioned family values, of putting the needs of the young and vulnerable before all else. At the same time she would make sure that there were people who knew that Fern had not been wholly blameless… that, even though it was not actively her fault, she was so sexually unresponsive, it had had a detrimental effect on their marriage, eventually and of course regrettably allowing, indeed encouraging Nick to look elsewhere for the sexual and emotional intimacy his marriage was denying him.
She would play her part, of course. Like a chameleon, she had the ability to adapt, to merge with her surroundings and circumstances.
As the new MP’s wife she would be irreproachable and unimpeachable, a woman set apart from others. She would be envied, of course, and even resented by other members of her sex, but, since they would never even to themselves feel comfortable admitting the real cause of their resentment of her, they would work even harder at pretending that they did not.
Yes. She had dealt successfully with Nick. All she had to do now was deal equally successfully with Fern. Only, unlike Nick, she had not made the mistake of dismissing Fern as a totally unworthy opponent.
It was common knowledge how much Fern loved her husband. But then she would have to, to put up with the way he treated her, Venice reflected cynically. Poor Fern… one way or the other she was going to have to give him up, but Venice suspected it wouldn’t be all that difficult. Once she knew about the baby…
* * *
Nick hadn’t returned home. Fern had slept in the spare room, lying tensely in bed, ready for the argument she knew would begin the moment he came in, eventually falling asleep in the early hours of the morning.
She had no doubt that in his eyes by staying all night with Venice he was somehow punishing her, but in reality she simply felt relieved.
He would have to be faced sooner or later, of course, for she was not going to change her mind; not going to allow herself to be browbeaten into backing down.