Tilly Bagshawe 3-book Bundle: Scandalous, Fame, Friends and Rivals. Tilly Bagshawe

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СКАЧАТЬ at the moment. As you can see, we’re fully booked. Did you have a reservation?’

      ‘I don’t make reservations. Tell Marcel I’m here, he’ll make room. And you can bring us two glasses of Cristal while we wait.’ Pulling the redhead closer, Jackson turned around to survey the room, smiling proudly, like a tribal king showing off his latest bride to his adoring subjects. His eyes soon fell on one less-than-adoring subject, however, and the smile vanished. He walked over to Sasha’s table.

      ‘Sasha.’

      ‘Jackson.’

      ‘I’m surprised to see you out and about so late. Surely you should be hanging upside down in a cave somewhere by now? Or home polishing your cauldron?’

      In vintage Levi’s and a thick, blue cashmere Ralph Lauren sweater, with snowflakes still clinging to his wild black hair, Jackson looked as effortlessly desirable as the stunner he’d walked in with. Unlike the girl though, who seemed sweet if a little bit vacant, Jackson knew it. He positively radiated vanity.

      ‘Waiting on a table for three, are you, Jackson? Just you, your lady friend and your ego. How romantic.’ Sasha turned back to Grover. To his surprise, she took his hand. ‘Jackson, this is Grover Hammond, a friend of mine. Grover’s a publisher.’

      Jackson nodded a curt acknowledgement.

      ‘Grover, this is Jackson Dupree, a work colleague. Jackson’s a penis.’

      It was so unexpected, and so totally rude, Grover burst out laughing. Jackson glanced over his shoulder to see if the redhead had heard, but she was engrossed in her BlackBerry. At that moment Marcel, the restaurant owner, rushed over and began fawning over Jackson, clapping his fat little hands excitedly as a new table and linens were carried out from the kitchens. Jackson contemplated firing a shot back at Sasha. If she wanted to embarrass him in front of his date, two could play that game. But the moment had passed. Besides, he’d look a lot cooler to Leilani, the redhead, if he laughed it off and didn’t stoop to Sasha’s level.

      Once Jackson and Leilani were seated, at the opposite end of the room, Grover asked Sasha, ‘What was that about? You just blew that guy out of the water. Is he an ex or something?’

      ‘An ex?’ Sasha looked disgusted. ‘Eeeugh. I wouldn’t date Jackson Dupree if the survival of the human race depended on it. No, I told you. He’s a colleague. And he’s a penis. That’s the kindest word I can use to describe him.’

      ‘He’s famous, right?’

      ‘In his own mind,’ Sasha scoffed.

      ‘No, really. I’m sure I’ve heard of him.’

      ‘You might have. When you get home tomorrow, google “ world’s biggest penis ” and see if his face pops up. I’m just going to run to the ladies. Should we get the bill first?’

      Now it was Grover’s turn to look disgusted. ‘Please. I’ll get the check. I may not be as rich as your buddy Jackson Dupree, but if I take a girl out for dinner, I pay.’

      Sasha smiled. Maybe dating wasn’t going to be such an ordeal after all?

      A few minutes after Sasha and Grover left, laughing, into the night, Jackson was about to order appetizers when Leilani suddenly stood up.

      ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘You look pale. Is everything OK?’

      ‘Yeah. Sure. Look, I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, OK? Really. But I can’t help you. No one can.’ She started putting on her scarf.

      Jackson looked blank. ‘What?’

      Leilani squeezed his hand sympathetically. ‘Being gay. It’s not something you can be cured of. It’s genetic. I have two gay brothers, I know what I’m talking about.’

      ‘Well that makes one of us. What on earth makes you think I’m gay?’

      ‘Look, it’s OK, truly. Your friend told me everything, in the ladies’ room. I know you’re really super Christian, and you probably think you’re trying to do the right thing by fucking it out of your system. But if it’s Brian you love …’

      ‘Brian? Who the fuck is Brian? If I were going to be gay, you think I’d date someone called Brian?’

      ‘You need to start loving yourself for who you are,’ Leilani said earnestly. ‘And I need to do the same.’

      Jackson sat and watched as she walked out into the street. Slowly, he felt his anger start to rise, like a building wave about to break.

      OK, so it probably wouldn’t have worked out with Leilani anyway. Yes, she was a knockout, but she had the IQ of a small piece of cheese, not to mention that gentle, save-the-whales vibe about her that, in Jackson’s experience, invariably translated to being shit in bed. But even so. That little bitch Sasha Miller had successfully sabotaged his evening. He pictured Sasha in a cab right now, laughing at him in between getting down and dirty with Elmo or whatever the fuck the guy’s name was.

      Fine, sweetheart. You want this to get personal?

      Just you watch how personal I can be.

      Two weeks later, a package arrived on Sasha’s desk. It was beautifully wrapped in expensive, silver paper with an oversized red silk bow on the top.

      ‘Where did this come from?’

      Jeanne, her secretary, shrugged. A middle-aged matron from New Jersey with a sharp eye for detail and an even sharper tongue, Jeanne Grogan was Sasha’s right-hand woman. Other than Lottie Grainger, who wouldn’t have hurt a fly if it were injecting her with malaria, Jeanne was the only person at Wrexall whom Sasha totally trusted.

      ‘I have no idea. I was picking up a fax from the machine and when I got back to my desk, there it was. It’s not ticking, is it?’

      Sasha held it up to her ear. ‘I don’t think so. Should I open it?’

      ‘No. You should marinade it in chilli sauce and slow roast it for six hours. Of course you should open it! What else are you gonna do?’

      The wrapping was so perfect, Sasha almost felt guilty tearing into it. For a moment she was transported back to childhood Christmases in Frant, and her mother carefully saving the nicest wrapping paper, smoothing it out under the encyclopaedia to be used again another year. These days Sasha was comfortably earning seven figures a year. If I ever have children, they won’t need to save wrapping paper, she thought idly. For some reason the thought made her sad.

      ‘What is it?’ Jeanne’s harsh, nasal tones brought her back to reality.

      ‘It’s DVDs.’ Sasha sounded nonplussed. ‘A box set.’ Turning them over in her hands, she saw that she had in fact been given a ‘Best of Dita Andreas Limited Edition Holiday Collection’. She blushed.

      ‘Who sent me this?’

      ‘I told you already. I have no idea. Who knows you’re a Dita Andreas fan?’

      No one. No one would have any reason to link me with Dita Andreas. Other than maybe my parents and a few old friends from Cambridge. СКАЧАТЬ