The A-List Collection. Victoria Fox

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СКАЧАТЬ She turned over to see his prostrate form, mouth hanging slack, a rivulet of drool escaping down one side.

      ‘Oh, fuck it!’ she fumed, swinging her legs off the bed. Was this what her marriage had come to? It was almost as much of a joke as the years she’d spent with Cole. At least that hadn’t involved any … expectation.

      Wrapping a towel around her, she slipped from the room, closing the door quietly. She would use a guest bedroom to bring herself the pleasure she knew, deep down, she deserved. These days it was the only way.

21

       St Tropez

      Elisabeth Sabell stood from the table and tucked in her chair. She and Robert were dining with investors at La Parisienne, an exclusive harbourside restaurant favoured by the rich and famous.

      ‘Everything OK, puss?’ asked Bernstein, firing Robert an accusing look.

      ‘Fine,’ said Elisabeth, ‘if you’ll just excuse me.’ She made her way through the tables and into the cool marble of the bathroom. She felt queasy. Pushing open an empty cubicle, she closed the door and leaned back, breathing deeply.

      The trip had been extended. Stupidly she hadn’t brought next month’s Pill. She’d been ready to tell Robert that they’d need to use other precautions, before thinking at the weekend, Why should we? They both wanted kids, they’d discussed it before. Since arriving in France conversation had been so scant that sex was the only real communication they were sharing. Perhaps a baby would help get things back on track.

      Now her period was late.

      She extracted the test from her purse.

      For the first time since she and Robert had got engaged, she wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted it to say.

      Robert St Louis was trying to ignore the fact that one of his investors’ wives, a sharp-featured English woman with a tightly drawn chignon, had been giving him the come-on all night. Earlier, on the way to the restroom, she had pushed herself up against him and promised in a husky upper-class voice, ‘Later.’ Somehow he knew that later would never come.

      The waiter came to take their order. It was a big table: as well as Robert, Bernstein and his two daughters, they were dining with three key financiers and their immaculately groomed wives. But what was taking Elisabeth so long?

      ‘Here she comes,’ droned Jessica, stirring her martini.

      Elisabeth, her cheeks flushed, resumed her seat. She took the menu. ‘Are we ready?’ she asked in a strained voice.

      While the others ordered food, Robert caught his fiancée’s eye and she gave him a wobbly smile. She looked radiant tonight in a bronze figure-skimming dress, her blonde hair piled high on her head. He smiled back, made a face that enquired if everything was OK. She nodded briefly.

      ‘So I say to them, it’s all about the vision.’ Bernstein tore off a hunk of ciabatta, dunked it in oil and threw it into this mouth. ‘Time an’ again we’ve proved it, it’s not all about the casinos, the gaming enterprises–I’m talkin’ development of conference space, shopping facilities—’

      ‘Time spent in our hotels,’ interjected Robert. ‘We know what people want before they know it themselves. It has to be about our guests. Everything in this business is.’

      Bernstein pointed a chunk of bread at him. ‘Exactly.’

      ‘And growth into Europe,’ noted Jerry Gollancz, an elderly man with pink-tipped ears and watery eyes.

      ‘In time,’ said Robert. ‘We’re considering all routes carefully. You’ll see my plans in the spring.’

      As the food came, talk turned to leverage and dividends, capital pools and portfolios, and Robert noticed that Elisabeth’s attention was elsewhere. How could Bernstein imagine she was really interested in getting into this business?

      But there was more to it. She was on edge tonight: she seemed anxious and jumpy, kept shooting nervous smiles in his direction. He had hoped this trip would bring them closer together, force him to stop thinking about Lana Falcon. Instead it seemed to be having the reverse effect.

      ‘I assume you’re working towards Asian expansion?’ Jerry Gollancz enquired.

      Robert tuned back in. ‘Wynn Resorts has done it,’ he answered smoothly, ‘I don’t see why we can’t. Macau is incredibly fertile casino territory.’

      Bernstein refilled his elder daughter’s glass. ‘Elisabeth knows all about that, doncha, doll? She’s been to Macau.’

      Jessica snorted loudly. ‘Yeah, on vacation. What does she know?’ She drained her martini and instantly ordered another, without asking anyone else if they wanted anything.

      Elisabeth took a moment to tune back in. ‘Sorry?’ she asked, a bit dazed.

      ‘Are you OK?’ asked Robert.

      ‘Yes, of course,’ said Elisabeth, a little snappily. The table plunged into silence.

      Jessica, blissfully unaware, broke it. ‘What is this?’ she demanded loudly, holding up her fork, upon the end of which hung a sad-looking anchovy. ‘It’s hairy!’

      Ellen Fontaine, the woman who had propositioned Robert earlier, leaned over to explain. She regarded Jessica with some distaste, before turning her gaze to Robert and suggestively feeding a stick of grissini into her mouth.

      ‘Eat up and go to bed, cookie,’ Bernstein told his younger daughter. ‘It’s no fun for you.’

      ‘Like hell I will,’ said Jessica, fishing for the olive in her fresh vermouth.

      ‘Frank tells me you’ve got Sam Lucas’s premiere coming to the Orient next year,’ said Glenn Fontaine, steering the conversation on to safer ground.

      ‘Yes,’ said Robert, relaxing. ‘It’s a bold move.’

      ‘I’d love to be there,’ enthused Ellen, touching a hand to her white throat, where a grape-sized diamond clung to her skin. ‘We met Lana Falcon at something or other last year, didn’t we, darling? And that rather wonderful husband of hers.’

      ‘How was she?’ Robert jumped in, without thinking. Elisabeth’s eyes darted to his.

      The question threw Ellen, but before Robert could begin to unpick it, she answered, ‘Well, we didn’t speak to them for long. I remember thinking how charming she was.’ Then, to be polite, she asked, ‘Do you know her?’

      The quiet felt longer than it actually was.

      ‘No, I don’t,’ said Robert. ‘I don’t know her at all.’

      ‘What is it about goddamn Lana Falcon?’ stormed Elisabeth. ‘Every time I bring up her name you go all weird on me. Look at you now, it’s like you’ve seen a ghost!’

      They reached the jetty, where a boat was waiting to take СКАЧАТЬ