Page 12 of Worth Every Penny
I down the glass of champagne, followed in quick succession by a second I grab from the bar. I wouldn’t call this enjoying myself, but it’s the next best thing.
I move towards Elly, who must sense me coming because she scurries over and grabs my arm. “Oh, by the way,” she says in a conspiratorial whisper. “The cloakroom attendant is out there reading a magazine with Nico Hawkston’s face on it. How weird is that?”
5
NICO
Kate fucking Lansen.
I thought I had this deal done. Now, I’m wondering how much of a fuss she’s going to kick up. When I admitted I was the purchaser, the look on her face was pure wrath. But even with her eyes flashing loathing, she was stunning. And if that kind of passion is anything to go by, she’d be wild in bed.
Talk about an intrusive thought.
Until tonight, I hadn’t seen Kate since she was eighteen. She’s just as beautiful, but her features are more mature. That naivety she had when she was younger is gone, and what remains is more alluring.
But as attractive as Kate is, I can’t let her get in the way of a good deal.
If I can find her in the crowd, talk to her one to one… convince her the purchase of the company isn’t a bad thing… thatI’mnot a bad thing…
I glance around the room, sweeping the crowd for her. Fuck, it’s busy in here. From the looks of it, Jack invited half the London society pages. There are at least three guys I went toschool with, a woman my mother tried to set me up with when I was twenty-two, and Henry Banville, the youngest (and possibly the richest) Duke in the UK.
But no sign of Kate.
A nudge to my elbow brings me back to the present moment. Champagne slops out of my glass at the impact.
“Watch it!”
My brother, Seb, chuckles. That little dimple appears on his left cheek and his blue eyes dance with amusement.
“It’s not as if you’re drinking the stuff,” Seb argues, clinking his champagne glass against mine. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”
“Jack hasn’t signed the contract yet. Couple of small details left to finalise.”
“Nothing serious? No roadblocks?”
“No.” I’m not about to tell Seb that Jack’s little sister could derail the whole thing. “But I won’t celebrate until it’s official.”
“Fair enough.” Seb props his elbows on the bar behind him as he looks out into the party. He’s thoughtful for a moment. “I was hoping you might bring Erica tonight.”
“She was busy.”
Erica Lefroy is the UK’s top runway model, and she’s a long-time friend of mine. We went on a couple of dates a few years ago, but didn’t hit it off romantically. We’ve been friendly ever since, and whenever we’re seen together, the press goes crazy for it. The attention is a tedium I could well do without, but I enjoy her company enough to bear it.
I can tell that Seb wants to talk about her, but I’m too distracted. If I don’t secure this deal tonight, I won’t be able to sleep.
“What the fuck?” Seb mutters, hooking my attention. “Is that Matt?”
I follow Seb’s gaze. Our middle brother, scowling deeply, is barreling through the crowd. He’s intently focused on something on the other side of the room. I swing to check what, and my stomach falls as I catch sight of his wife, Gemma, and teenage son, Charlie.
Gemma’s sleek blonde hair frames her Grace Kelly face, but she’s far from the poised, aloof woman I’m used to seeing. Charlie, a gangly fifteen-year-old, is clinging to her arm, stumbling along beside her, his feet catching on the hem of her pale blue evening dress. He’s so drunk he can barely stand up and Gemma looks like she wants to push him to the gutter.
Charlie’s hair is a shocking electric blue. It’s as eccentric as his black tie suit is conformist. Mother and son are drawing horrified glances from other guests.
“This can’t be good,” Seb says under his breath, throwing a wary look at me. “Charlie’s goneSonic the Hedgehog.”
“If Sonic downed half a bottle of vodka before he went out.”
“Fuuuuck,” Seb breathes.