Guilty Pleasures (51 page)

‘We met up because she was telling me she’s getting married again. If I kissed her on the cheek or hugged her or whatever it was simply to congratulate her.’

Emma felt an enormous rush of relief flood over her.

‘Oh, I’m sorry … so why the move?’

‘I shouldn’t be telling you this, but an announcement is being made to Wall Street on Monday so …’ he paused to draw breath. ‘My father is retiring. Finally.’ He said with a small smile.

‘No way! I thought he was going to carry on forever!’

She thought back to a recent profile of Larry Holland in Forbes.
The power-house titan who will never retire.

‘He’s ill.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, putting her hand on his arm.

‘Against all previous form, he has decided he wants me to take over. CEO. The big job.’

Emma gasped.

‘Wow, president of Hollander Media? That’s a serious position.’

‘Yeah, well. I was born to the job; I’m not necessarily deserving of it.’

‘You deserve it,’ she smiled, feeling genuinely happy for him.

‘Not only that, I’ve persuaded him to invest in the record division. After much consideration he thought it was the right thing to do. You could have told us both in thirty seconds. Actually, as I remember it, that’s exactly what you did.’

‘I thought you said I knew nothing about music’

‘You don’t,’ he grinned. ‘But you know an awful lot about business.’

‘So when do you think you’re going?’ Her disappointment was crushing but she was determined to hide it.

‘Once the official announcement is made on Monday there’s nothing really stopping me. I’m going to start attending meetings at our head office in Manhattan in a couple of weeks.’

‘You’re leaving in two weeks!’

‘Well, yes and no,’ he laughed softly. ‘It will take me a while to make the transition. I’ll be shuttling between the two cities for a time. My father has someone in mind to replace me in London but even so, I don’t think I’ll be moving to New York permanently until April, maybe May. I’ll officially take up the position of CEO a little after that.’

He saw Emma glance to the floor.

‘Hey, don’t worry. I’m good for the rent until the end of the contract.’

She took a deep breath and stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek.

‘Congratulations, Rob.’

Their cheeks brushed against one another, their touch lingering for just a split second longer than necessary. They pulled away, but Rob held on to her fingertips. She looked up into his eyes.

‘That night at the cider farm…’ he said softly.

‘Hey, that’s all forgotten, Rob. Don’t worry about it.’

But Rob continued as if he hadn’t heard her.

‘You remember I went to New York the day after? Well, that’s
when my father told me. I couldn’t tell you about his retirement at the time, it would have affected the share-price of the company and they were in the middle of some refinancing. When we were by the lake, when I said I couldn’t commit to anything, that’s what I meant. I knew I was returning to New York. I didn’t want to start what I couldn’t finish. Then when you said you didn’t want a relationship …’

She felt the brief pulse of hope.

‘I wasn’t exactly honest that day either,’ she said and then paused, watching him and wanting him with all her heart. ‘I think I could make time in my schedule for a man,’ she smiled.

‘How do you feel about long-distance relationships?’

‘What’s changed your mind?’ she whispered.

‘I miss you.’

‘In that case, what’s 3,000 miles between friends when one of us has a private jet?’

They laughed gently, stepping together in unison, before his mouth met hers in a kiss of such deep, sweet tenderness she wanted it to continue forever.

‘We’d better go back to the party,’ she whispered finally, resting her head gently on his shoulder. He pulled her hand and drew her back inside.

‘Come on. We’ve got plenty of stuff to celebrate.’

In Winterfold’s ballroom, Emma was standing to one side as Rob congratulated Ste on a brilliant acoustic set, when she turned to see her mother crossing the floor. In a room full of beautiful people Virginia still stood out, striking and patrician in an elegant kingfisher blue silk sheath dress, her hair up in a chignon.

‘What a wonderful party, darling,’ she said, ‘and on your birthday too. Are you having fun?’

Emma nodded, unable to stop a big grin lighting up her face as her eyes darted towards Rob.

‘Yes, you two seem to be getting on well,’ said Virginia icily.

‘Mother! I thought you’d be pleased.’

‘Well, do you trust him?’ asked Virginia, examining her daughter through narrow eyes.

‘You mean as a tenant?’ asked Emma, surprised at her strange question.

‘I mean after what happened in Gstaad.’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘I thought he was at the hospital very soon after your accident.’

‘He was in Courchevel, Mother. What
are
you suggesting?’ she repeated.

Virginia paused and took a sip of her champagne.

‘A police officer in Gstaad told me you were convinced someone had deliberately tried to kill you.’

‘And you think it was Rob?’ said Emma incredulously.

‘Not necessarily,’ she mused after a long pregnant pause. ‘I just thought it was odd,
convenient,
he was around so quickly.’

Emma shook her head. She was used to her mother’s arctic attitude towards life, but this was a new standard.

‘I don’t know what happened in Gstaad, Mum,’ said Emma. ‘What I do know is that it wasn’t odd for Rob to be at the hospital at all. He’s my friend and I trust him.’

‘You sound like you’re in love with him,’ said Virginia with a note of disapproval.

‘I like him a lot,’ replied Emma, stony-faced.

‘I’m your mother, darling. I only want to protect you.’

‘Is that so?’ said Emma sharply. It had been a day of emotional peaks and troughs; elation, worry, surprise, and Emma felt about ready to snap.

‘When have you ever really cared about me or my life?’ she hissed. ‘You’ve never particularly supported me, or tried to understand me – do you even know me? Yes, I’m your daughter, but I’m hardly a priority, am I? I have always come such a poor second to your life with Jonathon that I barely even register. It might suit you now to suddenly start caring, but don’t bother. For once, I’m really, really happy. Don’t go trying to spoil it.’

Virginia’s face had drained of all colour. Gently touching her daughter’s arm, she drew her away from the crowd into a quieter alcove.

‘Is that how you really feel?’ she asked.

Dizzy with relief at having finally aired feelings which had been bottled up for so many years, Emma nodded. Virginia bowed her head. As she looked up her face looked softer, more vulnerable.

‘Emma, whatever you think, you’re my daughter and I love you.’

‘So why have you spent the last twenty years behaving like you don’t care?’

‘Because you’re so much like him,’ she whispered.

‘Dad?’

Virginia nodded, her eyes glistening with moisture.

‘He had an affair with my
sister,
Emma. Can you imagine how painful that feels, how worthless it makes you feel? And then he died,’ she said her voice racked with sorrow. ‘I loved him so much and he died not loving me.’ A tear trickled down her face, leaving a thin silver line of foundation.

Emma touched her mother’s arm. ‘But he did love you. You told me yourself that it was a mistake, just a summer fling.’

Virginia shook her head.

‘That’s why I’ve thrown myself 100 per cent into my marriage with Jonathon,’ she said through sobs. ‘I won’t take my eye off the ball. I won’t let it happen again.’

Emma put her arms around her, feeling her eyes fill with tears as she did so and leaned on her mother’s shoulder.

‘It’s OK, Mum, I understand,’ she whispered. ‘I understand.’

‘Did you know Cassandra was here?’ said Stella, handing Emma a glass of pink champagne.

‘I think it’s pretty brave of her to come,’ said Emma nodding. She actually found she had mixed emotions about her cousin. She’d heard all about Cassandra’s high-profile departure from
Rive;
it had been spun as a resignation but everyone in the industry knew she’d been fired. Emma certainly knew how humiliating that would be for her. Cassandra was the sort of woman who was defined by her job and to have it taken away must have been devastating. Then again, Cassandra was ruthless and driven. Ruthless enough to run her off the road in Gstaad?

‘Well, just don’t go offering her my job,’ smiled Stella.

Emma couldn’t tell if her friend was joking but there was a flicker of insecurity in her eyes.

‘As if, Stella,’ she said, gesturing back towards the party. ‘Do you think all these people would be here if it wasn’t for you? This is your doing, Stell, your triumph. Why would I be so stupid as to change that? Besides, I need someone to make my tea.’

Stella burst out laughing and nudged her friend gently in the ribs.

‘Just think, you might be moving back in here soon. It’s so lovely!’

Emma frowned.

‘Why on earth would I be moving back here?’

‘Come on, Em, because I saw you holding hands with Rob. How long’s this been going on?’

Emma blushed, embarrassed at being caught out.

‘Just tonight. Well, actually that’s a lie, something happened in November too. I didn’t tell you because it didn’t go anywhere, which is exactly what you’d expect considering his reputation, isn’t it? I didn’t want anyone to say “told you so”.’

‘A womanizer is only waiting for the right woman, sweetie. And he’s clearly come to his senses.’

Emma flushed again.

‘Well, we’ll see.’

Stella clapped her hands together gleefully.

‘You’re in love with him! I knew it! Go on, get upstairs and tear all his clothes off before someone else does.’

‘Stella!’ gasped Emma.

‘Gosh, you’re such a lucky cow. Everything is coming together for you, isn’t it?’

‘Don’t say that,’ said Emma. ‘That’s usually the point when everything starts to come undone.’

Roger and Rebecca stood at the top of the stairs looking down on the action from on high.

‘I can’t believe Tom Ford’s at Winterfold,’ said Rebecca, playing with the Tiffany diamond star necklace around her delicate throat. ‘What a coup.’

‘Yes, it’s all been a rip-roaring bloody success, hasn’t it?’ said Roger bitterly, sipping on his neat bourbon. ‘Emma’s never going to sell now, is she?’

He had to admit that the catwalk show that afternoon had been amazing. He’d been staggered by the excited charge of anticipation in the audience before and the gushing praise that had rung around the venue afterwards. Of course, it was his success too, but it was that very success which was now standing in the way of his ambitions.

‘Victor Chen’s company were interested because they thought they could get Milford for a good price and after today, I’m not so sure they’ll be so keen. I can’t stall Ricardo for much longer, and how else are we going to get the money?’

‘Darling, maybe it’s just as well,’ said Rebecca, stroking his arm.
‘I’ve been speaking to friends about Ricardo and I’m not sure he’d be the most reliable business partner. Apparently he’s a terrible coke-head.’

Roger rounded on his wife angrily – how dare she question his judgement?

‘Darling, I’m doing this for us! Don’t start fighting me!’

‘All I’m saying is that it’s not necessarily a bad thing to keep hold of the Milford shareholding. For now at least. You never know, this thing might make us rich after all.’

‘Not as rich as her,’ said Roger, looking over at Emma, hate blazing from his eyes.

‘Well, I guess we’d better make the best of it. She’s not going to go away, is she?’

Roger threw back his bourbon, still looking at Emma.

‘No, I suppose not.’

Cassandra had been in the Orangery overlooking the courtyard when Emma and Rob were talking. She had watched their interaction with interest and had been genuinely shocked when she had seen them kiss. It had made her want to retch. As if she wasn’t miserable enough without having to watch the charmed life of Emma Bailey being played out before her in glorious Technicolor. That bitch had stolen her life and her glory – and now she even had a relationship. It was as if she were deliberately rubbing her face it in. Cassandra tightened her fingers into a fist, pushing her nails into her palm. She was going to get even with Emma, whatever it took.

Right now, however, all she wanted to do was go home. Despite her recent emotional wobbles, Cassandra still had a thicker skin than most and when she’d arrived at the party she’d held her head up high. But soon the whispers of the party-goers-of the fashion executives, the PRs and journalists – soon, they became deafening. Even worse were the looks on the faces of the few who did come over to speak to her; people who’d once fawned at her every word now viewed her with pity when they all asked ‘so what are you doing next?’ Alone and drained by the emotional toll of the past two weeks, she had felt something unfamiliar at the party, something unpleasant. She felt like an outsider.

Cassandra drained the last of her champagne and it made her reel. She’d eaten nothing in the past thirty-six hours in order to fit
into her sample-size Dior cocktail dress and to make matters worse, she’d accepted a fat line of cocaine from Astrid. Her friend had assured her it would make her feel better. It hadn’t.

She grabbed on to a table to steady herself, then sat down heavily on a marble stool. Her head was whirling, her senses suddenly overloaded. The smell of the frangipani and the warm, humid atmosphere of the Orangery made her feel even more nauseous.

‘Cassandra? Is that you?’

She looked up and saw Emma.

‘Ah, the hostess. Let me congratulate you,’ she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. ‘You never struck me as a style maven but this party is exceptional.’

‘Thank you, I think people are enjoying themselves. Listen, I was sorry to hear about
Rive.’

‘No you’re not,’ said Cassandra, slurring her words slightly. ‘No one’s sorry. Everybody loves hearing about other people’s misfortune, because it makes them feel better about their own sad little lives.’