Читать книгу Fortune: The Original Snogbuster - Megan Cole - Страница 5

New York CityJuly

‘Why the hell shouldn’t I have Botox? It’s my face.’

Nineteen-year-old Madison Vanderbilt, ice-blonde hair cascading down her back, eyed her mother belligerently over the fifteen-foot breakfast bar.

Candy Vanderbilt, a stretched-face forty-something with diamonds dripping from her ears and neck, showed the first bit of common sense she’d had in her life. ‘Honey, don’t you think you’re a little bit young?’

‘Heidi Montag had, like, everything done.’ Madison offered up a smooth, blemish-free face, courtesy of regular facials at the most expensive beauty salon on Fifth Avenue. ‘I’m covered in wrinkles, look!’

Candy frowned, or rather tried to. Her own forehead was so frozen that she had difficulty registering any expression at all. ‘Why don’t you leave it for a few years? Twenty-one is as good a time to start as any.’

‘That’s if I don’t look 112 by then,’ huffed Madison. God, her life sucked! Come July, she’d normally be joining the rest of her friends in the Hamptons for a summer of sunbathing and scoping out hot guys. This year, however, she and her mom were stuck at home in their five-million-dollar apartment in New York. Madison stomped over to the floor-to-ceiling window to look down at the sticky, traffic-clogged streets below. New York in July was so not the place to be. Her best friends, Tiffani and Chelsea, would be heading down to the beach now, while she, Madison, was cooped up in this stupid condo.

It wasn’t fair.

‘What am I supposed to do now?’ she said, turning back to her mother.

Candy looked up from her stool, where she was readjusting the diamond collar on her lapdog, Dolce. ‘Honey, you live in the greatest city in the world! There’s so much to do.’

‘Like what?’

‘Shopping! And Fabrizo has opened up that new nail bar around the corner. His French manicures are to die for.’

Madison carelessly examined a perfect pink nail. ‘Whatever.’ She was so over manicures, so over her mother, so over this dumb city. It was like being a prisoner in a cage with no end in sight. Madison couldn’t believe the injustice of it all. ‘Oh my God, of all the times to get sick, Hank has to do it now. Doesn’t he know he’s ruining my life?’

Candy’s baby-blue eyes widened. ‘Madison, that’s a dreadful thing to say!’

Madison sighed. ‘You know what I mean.’

Exasperated, she turned and walked over to one of the many full-length mirrors adorning the luxury apartment. Her stepfather Hank, her mom’s third husband and a self-made millionaire, had recently been diagnosed with colon cancer and was now in one of the most prestigious hospitals in New York. The good news was that Hank was responding well to treatment…the bad news was that he was going to be in hospital all summer, ruining their annual family holiday.

Madison scrutinised herself in the mirror. Five foot eight and an American size six, she was perfectly proportioned, with a pert chest, flat stomach and shapely legs. Madison turned round, admiring her high, peachy butt, courtesy of three-hundred-dollar-an-hour Pilates sessions with the same woman who trained Sarah Jessica Parker. She was looking hot, even for her. Her brow furrowed crossly as she thought of it all going to waste. She could kill Hank!

The intercom sounded, making her mother’s little lapdog jump.

‘Go and get that will you, honey?’ asked Candy.

Sighing again, Madison made her way to the front door and looked through the peephole. Juan, the young Puerto Rican bellboy, was standing outside, smoothing down his hair. Madison pulled the door open and leant on the door frame, giving him the full benefit of her white denim hot pants. The young man’s eyes widened. He had a monster crush on Madison. She looked down at the shiny black envelope in his hand.

‘That for me?’

‘Yes, it just came by courier. I thought I would bring it up personally. I was going to—’

But Madison had already snatched the envelope out of his hand and shut the door in his face. Then she returned to the kitchen to show it to her mother.

‘It’s heavy, it must be a super dooper invite,’ said Candy approvingly, handing the envelope back to her daughter.

Madison opened the envelope quickly and threw it on the floor. Dolce jumped down and started ripping the paper apart, but both women were so engrossed in the contents they didn’t notice. Madison had only got three lines down before she started squealing.

‘Oh my God! Brad Masters! He’s invited me to his fiftieth birthday party!’ Her eyes widened. ‘In Capri! Oh my God, Brad Masters!’ She clutched the invitation to her chest. ‘I bet I get flown over in his private jet.’

Madison couldn’t believe it.

Brad Masters?

In the worldwide fame league, you had the Pope at number one, followed by Madonna, then Brad Masters in a close third place. A British-born billionaire, he spent his life jetting round the world making millions in property, running record companies and throwing lavish, high-profile parties. Despite his fame and good looks, though, Brad was still something of an enigma – a confirmed bachelor who never talked about his private life. The mystery only added to his allure.

‘The party’s at his beachfront house,’ Madison breathed excitedly, her eyes darting back and forth across the invitation. ‘Oh my God! Courtney Richard’s sister Cara went to one of his parties at Nobu last year! Cara is, like, this top model and she says Brad’s people only handpick the best guests.’ She gasped. ‘O.M.G! What if he can get me a part on The Hills?’

Her mother’s expression was less-than-pleased.

‘Why would Brad Masters invite you to his birthday party?’ Candy said. ‘If anyone should go, it should be me.’

Madison shot her a look. Her mother really had to get over herself – Candy’s partying days had ended with, like, the dinosaurs. ‘Mother, you are way too ancient. Brad’s obviously seen me on the scene, hanging with the beautifuls,’ she said, re-reading the invitation.

‘Madison, it’s entirely inappropriate. You’re not going!’

Madison looked at her mom in disbelief. Candy never said no to her! ‘Excuse me, yes, I am.’

‘No, you’re not!’

‘I’m nineteen. I can do what I like.’

Candy fixed pleading eyes on her daughter. ‘What if your father takes a turn for the worse?’

‘Stepfather,’ corrected Madison. ‘And if you hadn’t married him, I wouldn’t be stuck in this sucky city in the first place.’

‘Madison!’ Looking pained, Candy stood up. ‘I’ve got another one of my headaches coming. I need to go lie down.’ She scooped up Dolce and shot her daughter a look. ‘You’re not going and that’s it!’

‘You just don’t want me to go off and have fun,’ Madison shouted after her. ‘Hank’s your husband – you stay with him.’

Candy’s bedroom door slammed. Madison rolled her eyes; her mom was such a drama queen! She turned back to the invitation, turning it over in her hands. This was her ticket out of Dullsville – wait until Tiff and Chelsea heard about it!

It was going to be the best summer ever!