Tasmina Perry 3-Book Collection: Daddy’s Girls, Gold Diggers, Original Sin. Tasmina Perry

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СКАЧАТЬ designer.’

      ‘You’re going into women’s-wear?’ asked Camilla, surprised.

      ‘Logical brand development for us,’ said Venetia, her eyes beginning to sparkle once more. ‘I’m so excited about this, Cam. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.’

      Camilla hadn’t seen her sister so animated in ages: she was glowing with enthusiasm. She wanted to hear more, but suddenly they were interrupted by two handsome men brandishing flutes of champagne in front of them. ‘Ladies, ladies, ladies. The drinks are on us!’ said one. Cate walked over, laughing at her sisters’ bemused expressions.

      ‘Don’t worry, girls. They’re not intruders. Venetia, Camilla, meet my partners in crime, Nick Douglas and Dave Goldman.’

      Nick immediately threw an arm around Venetia and Camilla, promising in a slightly tipsy voice to tell them ‘secrets’ about Cate, while David moved in close to Cate, his sharp black suit brushing up against her.

      ‘So, what do you think?’ asked Cate, unnerved by his closeness, but hiding it by gesturing at the decor.

      ‘Is it always this floral?’ asked David with a smile.

      ‘Only for birthdays and special occasions,’ answered Cate, popping a mini-strawberry tartlet into her mouth.

      ‘You know you’ve made it if you live in a place like this,’ said David with a hint of envy. ‘But I do hear Jonathon’s hedge fund is doing fantastically. Mind if we go for a snoop?’

      ‘Where did you have in mind?’ asked Cate. ‘Have you seen the kitchen? It’s incredible.’

      ‘I was thinking of somewhere a little less noisy,’ said David, moving close to her ear and picking up a bottle of champagne from a table. ‘Let’s go and explore.’

      David took Cate’s hand and led her through the crowds towards the back of the house. David wanted her all for himself. Cate Balcon was his kind of woman. Bright and beautiful, she also had that something special. Breeding. Polish. Whatever. And as such, she would be the final piece in his jigsaw, the ideal way to complete his transition from market-trader’s son to sophisticated player. Feeling his cock harden the way it did when he was about to close a deal, he took Cate’s hand and slipped through an open French door at the back of the house, pulling her into the darkness. The string quartet faded into the background along with the laughter and clinking glasses as they crunched up a garden path.

      ‘Where are we going?’ laughed Cate, feeling more nervous than she sounded.

      ‘To explore,’ said David wolfishly, heading towards the bottom of the garden. ‘Let’s see what’s down there!’

      ‘There’s nothing down there, I can assure you,’ replied Cate, her voice a whisper. ‘Except maybe a few rocks we might fall over. Foxes, owls. Who knows? I think we should go back …’

      ‘I’ll protect you,’ grinned David, pushing back a dangling branch and leading Cate towards a marble bench lit by a garden torch. David pulled a flute from each of his jacket pockets and noisily splashed champagne into them with a flourish. Suddenly it was quiet. All Cate could hear was the crackling of the garden flame and she was suddenly nervous of the intimacy between them. Cate was notoriously poor at distinguishing between when a man was being nice to her and when he was flirting, but even she could recognize this wasn’t flirtation, it was full-on seduction. She took a sharp intake of breath as David’s broad body moved closer towards her; she could feel the heat emanating from him. She wrapped her arms tightly around her chest, narrowing the V of her cleavage. Her hands shaking now, as David moved closer and closer.

      ‘Cold?’ purred David.

      Frigid, more like, she thought, willing herself to relax.

      ‘You’re fantastic,’ he whispered roughly, lifting his hand to stroke her cheek. The fine line of dark hair that ran from his fingers to his wrist tickled her skin.

      ‘You’re making me blush,’ she stammered, turning her face slightly away from him. Christ, she thought, I’m behaving like some sort of Jane Austen character.

      Time seemed to slow down. His fingers rested on her chin and pulled her towards him.

      ‘What’s wrong, Cate?’ he asked, still stroking her face. ‘Don’t you want to?’

      What was wrong with her? she asked herself, feeling her stomach turn in a mixture of lust, anxiety and nerves. Christ, he was sexy, she thought, looking at the thick lashes around his intense grey eyes and the long, firm, masculine nose. She wasn’t sure what was stopping her leaning gently forward and taking his lips with hers, or running her hands through his wavy black hair.

      ‘I’m not sure, David. I’m sorry.’

      David Goldman was used to an instant surrender.

      ‘What? You do like men, don’t you?’

      Cate looked shocked. ‘Well, yes. Of course. But … Jesus, David. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for us, but … Look, I’m sorry …’

      David let his fingers fall from her face to his lap, his expression part annoyed, part disappointed.

      ‘I guess not,’ he smiled ruefully, smarting from the rejection. He stood up. ‘It’s getting cold. We’d better go back to the party.’

      Inside the house, Maria Dante knew she was attracting attention. Having taken a long, hard look at Serena Balcon, she grudgingly admitted that Oswald’s girl was as beautiful in the flesh as she looked in photographs. But that was all she was: a girl. Any man who yearned for Serena Balcon must have homosexual tendencies. Look at her – all skin and bone. No ass to speak of, tits the size of olives; she had the figure of a boy. But Maria Dante – well, Maria Dante was all woman. She could sense all the men in the room – the grown-up men, at least – appreciating her ripe breasts spilling out of the low-scooped Oscar de la Renta dress, the round curves of her buttocks pushing against the silk of its skirt. A glamorous, talented, cosmopolitan woman – exactly what the tired London scene needed; and with Serena Balcon out of the way, she was just the person to fill the gap. OK, so Oswald was an old man, she thought, looking at him with disgust. She was dreading seeing him naked. But it was a small price to pay. He was rich, he was connected, he was a proper English aristocrat with a magnificent home. And Oswald was besotted. She laughed to herself. Who would have thought it? Maria Dante, the little Italian girl from the dirt-poor Puglia village: she was going to become a Lady.

      ‘I thought you were just sensational at the Nice Opera last month,’ gushed Nicholas Charlesworth, appearing at her side to hand her a glass of champagne. ‘Do you like performing in Europe?’

      ‘I adore it,’ she breathed seductively. ‘You must come to the Royal Opera House when I’m there next month.’

      ‘I’d be delighted!’ said Nicholas with a stammer, transfixed by her chocolate fondant eyes. ‘And, erm, how’s the music event at Huntsford shaping up? I’m afraid I’ve been a bit out of the loop with what’s happening, although I think Oswald is planning a little pow-wow at our club, White’s, next week. Just let me know if you need anything,’ he smiled, tapping the side of his nose knowingly.

      ‘I think Oswald has all the organizational side well under control.’

      ‘What СКАЧАТЬ