Prima Donna (61 page)

‘You did not!’ she whispered.

He nodded.

‘How
did
you know?’ she asked, curious.

He shrugged. ‘You stopped drinking coffee every hour on the hour, for a start. And the Brie went untouched.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘And you
love
Brie. And you never
finished your glass of wine in the evenings . . . shall I go on?’

She shook her head.

‘Anyway, I told your father it was my fault because I’d made it categorically clear to you that I never wanted a family. I explained about my messed-up background. I didn’t
even know the truth by then about Pia and my parents – even though it’s changed everything for me anyway – but getting you and our baby back was all that mattered. It was all I
wanted. When I found you gone that morning, I was out of my mind . . .’ He swallowed nervously. ‘It made me realize I don’t ever want to be without you. So I asked him a
question.’

‘You asked my father
a question
?’ she echoed, as horrified as if he’d just said he’d asked him to share a spliff.

Tony nodded. He took her hand and sank gallantly to his knee.

‘Will you marry me, Sophie O’Farrell?’ he asked, his eyes shining as he looked up at her.

She gasped. ‘You asked him for my hand?’ she breathed.

‘Kind of.’

‘What does that mean?’ she frowned.

His eyes twinkled. ‘I’m not telling until you give me an answer.’

‘Yes! Yes! Of course, it’s yes!’ she cried, and he sprang up and kissed her passionately.

‘Thank God,’ he murmured, clasping her head in his hands, their foreheads pressed together.

‘So what was the question?’ she said, impatient to know, nuzzling his nose with hers.

Tony grinned.

‘I asked him to marry us. And he’s got a space – a week on Saturday.’

All the dancers were standing on the stage and the prize-giving had already begun. The gold, silver and bronze had been awarded to the juniors and they’d started on the
bounty prizes for the seniors as Pia delicately ran to join them.

Tanner stood watching from the wings, and he smiled at the audible sigh of relief that greeted her late arrival. She made him feel that way too.

He saw one particularly thin ballerina appraise Pia in the line-up – eyeing up the new tutu, the beatific smile – and, from the spite written all over her face, he knew instantly she
was Ava. He saw that Silk had returned to the judging panel, but nothing could disguise the bruising on his face. He was swelling up like a pufferfish.

He tuned back in to the secretary of the competition who was handing out the prizes.

‘. . . And in third position, with an arithmetic mean of sixty-three points, is Miss Yelena Maritsuva.’

The Belarusian girl skittered forward, beaming brightly as she was handed a bronze statuette and a spray of roses.

A polite round of applause swayed around the theatre. Bronze was nowhere. This tournament was all about – and always had been – Pia and Ava. Only one could come out on top.

‘In second position,’ the secretary said, raising his eyebrows teasingly, ‘with a mean of sixty-seven points . . .’ He took his time; he knew exactly how hotly
anticipated this announcement was.

‘Miss Pia Soto!’

The stunned audience took a collective gasp of breath, sucking the air from the star-canopied auditorium like a vacuum cleaner. Tanner saw Pia stiffen and the smile fix more rigidly to her
beautiful face, as she glided forward.

He looked over at Ava and saw the gloat in her eyes, the way her chin rose in the air triumphantly.

Pia slid forward graciously, easily able to keep the tears at bay. Will was sitting right in front of her and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying. Besides, their showdown had
given her time to prepare for this. She knew now she never would have won, no matter what she’d done.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t devastated. She was. After all, it was the final destination of her lifelong journey, ever since that first day at the Bolshoi when she’d pulled on
those satin ballet slippers for the first time. From barefoot ballerina leaping across the
cerrados
to prima ballerina, her race from her past was at an end now, regardless of whether she
made Assoluta or not. She was free from her debt of honour. Antonio was alive. If she continued to dance from here on, it would be only because she wanted to.

Ava and Will had stripped her of the right to a fair contest, but she knew in her heart that the trophy and the audience were hers. They proved it the way they roared as she took possession of
her statuette. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as they rose to their feet and stamped loudly, partly as support, partly in protest at the wrong call.

Ava swallowed nervously and looked around, baffled by the response. She was second! Why all the fuss?

The secretary tried to call the audience to order, waving his hands and pleading with them to return to their seats. Slowly, they sat back down, but catcalls of ‘Wrong!’ and
‘Disgusting!’ whistled through the darkness.

‘And in first place, the gold medal for the Thirtieth Varna International Ballet Competition goes to . . .’ He paused dramatically, but the atmosphere had dissipated like a slow
puncture. Everybody knew perfectly well who it was going to: ‘Miss Ava Petrova.’

A polite round of applause – damning with its faint praise – scattered around the gallery as Ava skipped forward and was handed the torch with which to light the fame of the Varna
Olympiad, but a few low boos were distinguishable and the clapping ended before she had finished her curtsey.

Murmurs of discord began to rumble from the audience as they waited restlessly for the fame to catch. No one was interested in indulging Ava’s moment of glory. Pia Soto’s third-round
performance had been epic and career-defining. It was inconceivable that she hadn’t won.

‘A travesty!’

They began to stand up to leave, making their displeasure known by voting with their feet. There would be no encore for the winner this year.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ the secretary said, waving his arms to encourage the audience to stay sitting down. ‘Please stay in your seats. We still have one prize
remaining.’

The audience looked around at each other, puzzled. The bounty awards had already been presented. They always finished with the top three last.

They sank back down again, perplexed, but still disgruntled.

‘This year we have a very special prize to present . . .’ The news blanketed the last remaining protests and a curious silence fell.

‘It is one that has been presented only
once
in the esteemed thirty-year history of the competition. But in honour of the definitive and flawless variation that we witnessed
tonight, and which few of us will ever see equalled again in our lifetime –’ a rumbling roar like thunder suddenly gathered in anticipation in the darkness – ‘it is the
judges’ very great honour to present the Varna Grand Prix . . . to Miss Pia Soto!’

A cheer that could have lifted the roof – had there been one – heaved forth and Tanner looked across at Pia to find her covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. Her
shock and awe only pleased the crowd more and it was three minutes before she could compose herself enough to step forward and receive the prize.

Tanner hollered and stamped his feet, sure that wasn’t quite etiquette at a ballet competition, but everyone else was doing the same. They gave her a standing ovation that lasted sixteen
minutes, so long that Tanner began to despair of her ever being returned to him again.

When she did finally come off stage, she ran straight to him, led by instinct, not sight. Her eyes were blinded with tears.

Tanner grabbed her by the waist and swung her into him.

‘You did it,’ he said, eyes glittering. ‘You’re free.’

‘Actually, I’m very expensive,’ she giggled, impressing herself with her ability to be contrary even at a time like this.

Tanner chuckled, equally impressed and not remotely surprised. ‘I meant you’re free from your ghosts.
And
a free agent. You’re not with Paolo any more.’

‘Never was, not once you turned up,’ she blinked.

‘But that night in Brazil—’

‘He passed out. Not that that was the point – you were supposed to fight for me.’ She gave him a soft punch in the stomach.

He looked down at her, hypnotized. She was impossibly lovely.

‘Does today count instead?’

Pia nodded. ‘But you know – you have to stop rescuing me.’

‘Do I?’ he shrugged. ‘It seems to be such a tough habit to break.’

‘I mean, you even found Tony!’ she said, throwing her arms out hopelessly. ‘What’s a girl to do?’

‘Yes . . . about that,’ he said, sighing forbiddingly. ‘I’m afraid we’re going to have to talk.’

‘Why? What’s wrong?’ She felt cold suddenly.

‘Well, you see, it was one thing saving your life. That was free,
gratis
, on the house. But bringing your brother back from the dead too?’ He shook his head.
‘I’m going to have to charge you for that. I know what a song and dance you make about being independent, that you don’t like to be beholden and all that jazz, but . . .
it’s a pretty big debt.’

‘I see,’ she said, unable to fight back a smile. ‘And how long am I going to be beholden to you for?’ she said, wriggling closer to him so that he nearly lost the power
of speech.

He shrugged and tried to look casual.

‘It’s looking like life.’

‘Thank God for that,’ she mumbled, pulling his head down to hers and pushing the sweet spring of her lips against his.

by

ISBN: 978-1-4472-2373-3

Friendships are strong. Lust is stronger . . .

Harry Hunter was everywhere you looked – bearing down from bus billboards, beaming out from the society pages, falling out of nightclubs in the gossip columns, and
flirting up a storm on the telly chat show circuit.

Harry Hunter is the new golden boy of the literary scene. With his books selling by the millions, the paparazzi on his tail, and a supermodel on each arm, he seems to have the world at his feet. Women all over the globe adore him but
few suspect that his angelic looks hide a darker side, a side that conceals a lifetime of lies and deceit.

Tor, Cress and Kate have been best friends for as long as they can remember. Through all the challenges of marriage, raising children and maintaining their high-flying careers,
they have stuck together as a powerful and loyal force to be reckoned with – living proof that twenty-first-century women can have it all, and do. It is only when the captivating Harry comes into
their lives that things begin to get complicated, as Tor, Cress and Kate are drawn into Harry's dangerous games.

by

ISBN: 978-0-330-53272-3

Three cities, three seasons, one chance to find the life that fits

Cassie settled down too young, marrying her first serious boyfriend. Now, ten years later, she is betrayed and broken. With her marriage in tatters and no career or home of her
own, she needs to work out where she belongs in the world and who she really is.

So begins a year-long trial as Cassie leaves her sheltered life in rural Scotland to stay with each of her best friends in the most glamorous cities in the world: New York,
Paris and London. Exchanging the grouse moor and mousy hair for low-carb diets and high-end highlights, Cassie tries on each city for size as she attempts to track down the life she was supposed to
have been leading, and with it, the man who was supposed to love her all along.

by

ISBN: 978-0-330-53273-0

Memories are a gift . . .

Haunted by a past she can’t escape, Laura Cunningham desires nothing more than to keep her world small and precise – her quiet relationship and growing jewellery
business are all she needs to get by. Until the day when Rob Blake walks into her studio and commissions a necklace that will tell his enigmatic wife Cat’s life in charms.

As Laura interviews Cat’s family, friends and former lovers, she steps out of her world and into theirs – a charmed world where weekends are spent in Verbier and
the air is lavender-scented, where friends are wild, extravagant and jealous, and a big love has to compete with grand passions.

Hearts are opened, secrets revealed and as the necklace begins to fill up with trinkets, Cat’s intoxicating life envelops Laura’s own. By the time she has to
identify the final charm, Laura’s metamorphosis is almost complete. But the last story left to tell has the power to change all of their lives forever, and Laura is forced to choose between
who she really is and who it is she wants to be.

by

ISBN: 978-1-4472-1969-9

The best presents can’t be wrapped

Portobello – home to the world-famous street market, Notting Hill Carnival . . . and Clem Alderton. She’s the queen of the scene, the girl everyone wants to be or
be with. But beneath the morning-after make-up, Clem is keeping a secret, and when she goes too far one reckless night she endangers everything – her home, her job and even her adored
brother’s love.

Portofino – a place of wild beauty and old-school glamour. Clem has been here once before and vowed never to return. But when a handsome stranger asks Clem to restore a
neglected villa, it seems like the answer to her problems – if she can just face up to her past.

Claridge’s – at Christmas, Clem is back in London working on a special commission for London’s grandest hotel. But is this where her heart really lies?

Acknowledgements

My biggest thanks must go to Thalia for her expertise, encouragement and valuable time helping me research this book. Quite what I would have done without a former ballerina on
the editing team, I just don’t know. She has skilfully led me through the maze of performance technicalities – and given me an A level in French in the process – and if I have
managed to create an air of authenticity surrounding both the rigours and beauty of ballet, then it is down to her guidance alone.