Читать книгу Gold Diggers - Tasmina Perry, Tasmina Perry - Страница 16

The weather in Venice was remarkably good for late winter. A strong sun dazzled the city, the colourful landscape of ice-cream coloured buildings and red-brick palazzos looking even more striking against a clear blue sky. Karin and her friend Ileana Totti, heiress to her family’s luxury goods company, were in the lobby of the Danieli Hotel catching up.

‘So you lied to Adam Gold that you were going to be in Venice for carnival?’ laughed Ileana, taking a sip of her Bellini. ‘I never knew you were so devious.’

‘It was a white lie,’ said Karin. ‘I am in Italy, aren’t I?’

She had spent the last two days visiting a fabric manufacturer in Bologna. ‘I mean, I didn’t honestly expect him to want to hook up in Venice. He said he was only coming for a couple of days. Now he wants me to come with him to some masked ball.’

‘What a drag,’ said Ileana, teasing Karin with a hint of sarcasm.

Karin chuckled. She had tried to sound disgruntled, but they both knew she had been delighted when Erin had called her two days after the Knightsbridge Heights launch to arrange a Venetian rendezvous with Adam.

‘So will you sleep with him tonight?’

‘Illy!’ said Karin, feigning shock. ‘He hasn’t even been in touch to say when or where we’re meeting. It might not even happen.’

‘Well, call him then!’

‘No.’

‘Mia cara,’ purred Ileana, playing with the large canary diamond on her finger, ‘you’ve just faked a trip to carnival. Now is not the time to play hard to get.’

‘You’re right,’ smiled Karin, imagining herself naked in bed with Adam. ‘I don’t need games – he’s already in the bag.’

‘I know he is, darling,’ smiled her friend, and they clinked glasses.

After she had said goodbye to Ileana, Karin took a shiny walnut and chrome motor launch over the Grand Canal to the Cipriani to check in. When there had been no message from Adam waiting for her on arrival, she had felt a slight rumble of anxiety. Don’t panic, she reassured herself, He’ll call. Why wouldn’t he? By 4 p.m., however, that confidence had evaporated, to be replaced by an unfamiliar sense of insecurity.

‘Sigñor, can you check again?’ asked Karin, calling down to reception.

‘Sigñora. I assure you il Sigñor Gold has not left a message. I will let you know if he does,’ was the polite but firm reply.

Karin paced around her suite, a sumptuous, spacious room where marble and velvet managed to feel modern rather than dowdy. She couldn’t settle, throwing down a book after just a few lines, flicking the TV on and off. Earlier that week she had requested a local costumier send over a selection of gowns for the party which had been laid out on the bed. She tried to distract herself by pulling them out of their heavy plastic wrappers. There were two glorious period dresses, one scarlet brocade, one a thick jade silk, both with low scooped neckline, a big bustle and layers of lace under a thickly gathered skirt. But even the beautiful clothes couldn’t distract her from Adam and she flung them back on the bed angrily.

Karin looked out of the window; the sky was beginning to darken, low clouds glowing rosy on the Venetian horizon. She would give Adam until 5 p.m., and then that was it. Or maybe 6 p.m.

She ran herself a hot bath, letting herself sink into the suds and willing her anxieties to melt away. Surely she hadn’t misread the situation so badly? After all, he had contacted her to meet in Venice, not the other way around. And yes, it was through his PA, but that was how rich men dated, just another window in a busy diary. Besides, if he wanted some bimbo model, he could have settled down years ago. And yet here she was, successful, sexy and clever, exactly the kind of woman Adam Gold needed – even if he didn’t know it yet. Ah, fuck him, she thought, jumping out of the bath and stomping back into the bedroom. I’ll meet up with Illy. She’ll be more fun, anyway.

She was just wrapping a bathrobe around her when the suite’s buzzer went. She opened the door to find a bellboy holding an envelope. ‘This have just arrived for you, signora,’ he said in broken English, trying hard not to look at Karin’s curvy wet body.

Back inside, she tore it open and a stiff white invitation peeked out from gold tissue paper.

You are invited to dinner, drinks and dancing at the Palazzo Sasso. 8 p.m. Dress: Masked ball.

She noticed some black inky squiggles on the back. See you later. Adam. Karin jumped on the bed and whooped.

Molly was meeting Marcus at the Ivy. The restaurant was one of Harry’s favourite places for supper and she was half hoping to bump into him, as she still hadn’t quite got round to breaking the news that it was over between them. The morning after the Knightsbridge Heights party, she had given him one last mercy fuck, cleared all his coke from his sock drawer and disappeared. But, instead of getting the hint, Harry had left a dozen increasingly soppy messages on her answerphone, his latest communication informing her that he had booked them into the Paris Ritz for that weekend. While she was tempted to make contact, if only to slip into the fluffy peach robes at her favourite French hotel, she exercised restraint. Overlapping lovers didn’t usually bother Molly; it wasn’t unusual for her to have two or three on the go if they were particularly generous or useful. But Harry and Marcus were friends. She had principles, for God’s sake!

The taxi waiting on the street tooted its horn once more. Molly tutted and painted on a final slash of lip gloss, then stood back to check the black Alaïa dress that clung to every curve in the mirror. Then she grabbed her bag and ran for the stairs. She was just closing the front door when she saw a scruffy young man standing at the bottom of the steps.

‘Excuse me,’ he said.

‘I don’t want one, thank you,’ said Molly tartly, double-locking the door.

‘You don’t want what?’ asked the man.

‘A Big Issue,’ said Molly. ‘And this is a residential street, so I’d be grateful if you moved along.’

Molly had walked to her taxi but he was still standing there.

‘No, I just wanted to ask: is this where Summer Sinclair lives?’

‘And who is asking?’ asked Molly, rather perplexed.

‘Charlie McDonald. I’m a … a friend,’ he said cautiously.

Charlie? The name didn’t ring any immediate bells.

‘We arranged a date on Wednesday, but I lost her number,’ Charlie added. ‘I just remembered she said she lived on Basset Road. That lady with the dog thought she lived here,’ he said, pointing vaguely down the street.

Summer arranged a date? thought Molly, confused. Where was she on Wednesday? Then she recalled with a shudder something about a rock gig in Camden. Something to do with a male model from the bridal shoot. She gave him a second glance. Hmm, well, he was certainly good looking enough to model underneath that stubble and dirty leather, she thought. But even so! Had she not taught Summer anything over the years? It was rule number one: no creatives. Not unless you were talking musicians like Rod Stewart. Creative people just didn’t make money. It was so typical of sweet, simple Summer to let her head be turned by some long-haired poet with holes in his jeans.

‘I’m so sorry, Charlie, but you’ve had a wasted journey,’ said Molly sadly. ‘She lives here alright, but she’s hardly ever here. Spends most of the week at her boyfriend’s house in Mayfair.’ She smiled kindly. ‘But I’m her mother, Molly. I can pass a message on if you like.’

Charlie mouth was firm, but his eyes told of his disappointment.

‘It’s okay,’ he replied with a shrug, ‘I was just passing.’

She climbed in the taxi and pulled away. Molly looked through the rear window, watching Charlie McDonald get smaller and smaller until he had disappeared out of sight and out of Summer’s life forever.

The Palazzo Sasso was like some Shakespearian fantasy. An enormous labyrinth of rooms with high painted ceilings, arched windows and ornate plasterwork, all lit by enormous fat lamps hanging from the walls that sent a flickering yellow light around the ballroom. Entering the room alone, Karin was immediately glad Adam had chosen this place to meet. She had been to so many fantastic parties all over the world, but this room looked so sexy, mysterious and theatrical that it was impossible not to be impressed. There were fire-eaters, jugglers and a string quartet that could just be heard above the hum of the crowd, the whole atmosphere pulsing with decadence. All the guests were in full costume for Carnevale; there must have been enough velvet in the room to stretch from Venice to the moon. The men were either in black tie with capes or in authentic period dress of doublet and hose, the woman straining in fitted corsets and flowing skirts. Everybody’s faces were obscured by masks made from papier-mâché or thick brocade, making it impossible to spot Adam, but the sensation of being alone, hidden, was exciting, almost a sexual thrill for Karin. God, she had to find Adam – and quickly. She moved through the crowd, passing from the main ballroom into the tangle of anterooms, soaking up the delicious atmosphere, listening to the babble of different languages. Finally she came across a smaller room, filled with people, crackling with excitement. Walking closer, she understood why she had been given a handful of casino chips on entry; it was a roulette table. She found a place at the table, put all of her chips on red and held her breath as the ball bounced around the wheel.

‘Red, twelve,’ said the croupier and pushed over a pile of chips. With a growing confidence, she moved half of her stash onto zero.

‘No more bets,’ said the croupier as the ball began to rattle round the walnut wheel. Karin dropped her cool and clapped with excitement as the ball came to rest on zero. A respectful hum ran around the crowd.

‘Go for broke,’ said a man standing next to her. ‘After all, it’s not real money is it?’

Carried along by the moment, Karin moved all her chips onto number twenty-nine, watching, waiting her heart pounding as the white ball swirled, rattled and slowed.

‘Red, thirteen.’ There were hoots of excitement as the croupier scooped up all Karin’s chips with his rake and pushed them towards the end of the table. Karin looked down the table to see the victor. His eyes met hers and he smiled. He was wearing a gold mask with a long curved nose, but she could see the bottom half of his face and that square jaw was unmistakable. Adam. The bastard.

‘Thirteen. Lucky for some,’ laughed Adam, leading Karin back into the ballroom.

‘Lucky for you, you mean.’

‘Don’t be so competitive,’ smiled Adam. ‘Not when there are more important things at stake.’ They reached the edge of the dance floor just as the sound of Mozart soared into the air. With a curt nod of invitation, Adam took Karin in his arms to dance.

‘When you said we should see Venice, I didn’t think it would be from behind two papier-mâché slits,’ smiled Karin, enjoying the feeling of closeness as they whirled around the room.

‘I like the idea of masks, don’t you?’ said Adam. ‘The idea of being someone else for the night? It has so many possibilities. That’s why the Venetian lords threw big balls for carnival – they wanted to allow their guests to adopt a different party personality to the one they usually had.’

‘So who are you tonight?’ asked Karin playfully. ‘The King of Roulette?’

‘Casanova,’ he joked, leaning his mouth close to her ear.

‘I thought you said different personas.’

The air was thick with chemistry; a thick wall that both separated and pulled them together. Karin was enjoying putting Adam on the spot. She was naturally direct, challenging and cool. It worked in business and she also found it drove certain men crazy.

‘Don’t believe everything you read in the New York Post,’ scolded Adam.

‘You’re forty-something and unmarried – people draw conclusions.’

The music stopped and Adam took a flute of champagne.

‘I’ve never married because my parents had a wonderful marriage and I’ve spent my whole life comparing my relationships to theirs,’ he said more seriously.

‘Well, not everybody wants marriage,’ said Karin quietly.

‘You’ve never tried it?’ asked Adam.

‘My first, only, husband died last year in a boating accident,’ she said. She wasn’t sure if she had needed to tell him quite yet; but she knew he’d find out. And besides, it made her seem more sensitive, more mysterious and certainly less predatory than a single, unmarried woman in her thirties.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know,’ he said softly, reaching up to touch her face. They both looked away, out onto the dance floor.

‘It’s quite incredible,’ she sighed. ‘So decadent.’

‘I love Venice. It reminds me of Manhattan.’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘Seriously,’ said Adam. ‘They’re both islands built around commerce; Venice was once the wealthiest city in the world. There’s an old Venetian saying that a man without money is a corpse that walks.’

‘I’m sure thousands of New Yorkers think that every day,’ said Karin dryly.

He laughed. ‘Not just New Yorkers.’

They fell silent again, watching the masked dancers revolving around the floor.

‘Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about,’ said Adam, still looking at the ballroom.

Karin felt a little leap of excitement in her belly.

‘It was something you said at the Knightsbridge party. That we both sell lifestyle statements,’ he continued. ‘I’ve been to your stores and I think your corporate identity is really strong.’

Karin felt the delicious bubble of anticipation pop. ‘I think your corporate identity is strong’? she thought furiously. Had he brought her all the way to Venice to talk business? Whatever happened to ‘I think you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen’ or ‘I think we could be great together.’ She’d even settle for I think you have great tits. She’d gone to enormous lengths to be here and that was the best he could do? Did he have any idea how difficult it was to get a room at the Cipriani during the carnival?

She took a deep breath: Calm down, Karin, she told herself. You’re a businesswoman, start behaving like one.

‘Well, thank you for the compliment, Adam,’ she said coolly. ‘So what did you want to talk about?’

‘I have a team of creative people advising the Midas Corporation,’ he said. ‘I would love you to do some consulting for the residential division. I think you could really add some class.’

But Karin was only half listening. A tall, slender man in black tie had caught her eye across the dance floor. His harlequin mask could not disguise his handsome features; a long straight nose, a wide mouth and a strong jaw. He boldly walked across to Karin and extended a hand. ‘May I have this dance?’ he said with a heavy Italian accent.

‘Eduardo Ribisi, is that you?’ she laughed.

‘Sì, Karin carissima, it is I!’ he said, whirling his cape dramatically.

Karin grinned. ‘I didn’t recognize you at first, although you can hardly blame me with that mask.’ She looked at Adam. ‘If you’ll excuse me for a few moments …?’

The music swelled as Eduardo took her in his arms and swung her across the dance floor with expert grace.

‘So who is he?’ whispered Eduardo playfully.

‘Someone who has just made me very cross,’ said Karin, unable to shake her annoyance.

‘Karin, darling, you come to Venice for passion and laughter, not for this sad little face,’ he said, touching his finger on her downturned lip.

Over Eduardo’s shoulder, she could see Adam still standing there, his eyes following them.

‘Do you want to go back?’ asked Eduardo.

‘Not yet. Just hold me.’

Adam was stony-faced by the time she returned. ‘Who was that?’ he said flatly, taking a canapé off a tray and biting into it rather harder than necessary.

‘Just an old friend. He’s from a very old Italian family. Practically royalty if Italy still had a monarch. Very charming. Now what were you saying about me consulting for Midas?’

‘Oh, we can discuss that in London,’ he replied dismissively. He fell quiet as they slowly walked around the palazzo to explore its dark corners, finally finding a quiet courtyard that opened onto a canal, the water lapping up against the marble floor.

‘Eerie, isn’t it?’ he whispered.

‘Have you ever seen Don’t Look Now?’

He laughed, moving closer to her so their fingers brushed.

‘Shall we go?’ he asked. She nodded and he led her out of the palazzo, down a tangle of narrow streets and into St Mark’s Square where the launch to the Cipriani was located up a little carpeted gangway.

‘You at the Cip too?’

‘Palazzo Vendramin, next door.’

No other guests boarded and they sat in silence at the uncovered rear of the boat, watching the green water of the Grand Canal splash and foam around them. The Venetian skyline never failed to make Karin smile, the tall tower of St Mark’s stretching up into a midnight-blue sky peppered with stars. Suddenly there was a whoosh and a spider’s web of colour lit up the sky. Carnival was famous for its firework displays and, for the rest of the journey across to Giudecca Island, the sky was studded with gold and crimson stardust. There would not be a more magical spot to be alone with Adam Gold for the first time, Karin thought to herself, letting her hand slip onto the seat next to his.

‘The view from my suite is just like this,’ said Adam quietly, touching her fingers with his. Karin offered up a prayer and made a mental note to call and thank Eduardo for his brilliant performance. The brother of an old school friend, she had known him since he was a teenager. Now twenty-nine, the gorgeous Venetian playboy was also still in the closet, too afraid of his staunch Catholic parents to tell them the truth about his sexuality. But he had been more than happy when Karin had phoned him earlier that day to play her suitor. ‘I’m going to that party anyway,’ he had giggled, ‘And it won’t be hard to pretend I am madly in love with you, carissima.’ He had played his part beautifully. The psychology of rich men was fairly easy to understand. They wouldn’t stand for something to be taken from their grasp.

The boat chugged to the dock at the Cipriani and the captain helped her onto dry land. Karin and Adam walked down the dark, leafy path into the hotel, where they could hear the tinkling of a piano and the good-humoured murmur of guests leaving the bar.

‘Could you handle another drink?’ asked Adam.

‘I could, but aren’t we going to frighten everyone in the bar?’ she smiled. They were still wearing their heavy cloaks with the elaborate Venetian masks pushed back off their faces.

‘My suite or yours then?’ smiled Adam. Karin’s stomach flip-flopped as she attempted to look nonchalant.

‘Yours, but just for a few minutes,’ she said, and they began to weave through the fragrant gardens of the Cipriani towards the exclusive quarters of the Palazzo Vendramin.

Adam unlocked the heavy mahogany door and let his guest into the suite, walking over to the long shutters and opening them without turning on the light. Karin followed him The view was every bit as impressive as Adam had promised, the milky glow of the moon adding to the magic. He moved behind her and his lips brushed her neck. She had hoped to deny him a little longer, to make him chase her, but it was impossible. The sexual charge between them was too strong. His fingers untied the ribbon of her cape, which fell to the floor, a pool of velvet.

He kissed her on the mouth, his warm hands cupping her face, moving down her back, quickly pulling at the zip. Her dress fell away from her in one movement and she stood there totally naked, save for the mask on the back of her head.

‘For someone who wants to start designing panties, I thought you might be wearing some,’ he said, his voice gravelly.

‘Do I have to practise everything I preach?’ she said softly, her hands moving inside his clothes. She began to undress him, but he gently held her hands still, reaching up to pull her carnival mask back down over her eyes. In the dark, the black mask obscured almost everything and her skin tingled with the thrill. She felt herself being lifted and lowered onto the bed, her groin aching, every nerve tingling with heightened sensualness. She groaned loudly as she felt her left nipple between Adam’s moist lips, then shuddered as two of his fingers pushed into her, sliding back and forth across her clitoris as she arched her back in pleasure. He withdrew and for a few moments she felt nothing but ripples of pleasure and the cool breeze breathing in through the window. Then he parted her thighs with his hands, still damp from her juices, lifting her knees to her chest so his thick cock could sink deep inside her. And, as they rocked together, their sweat-sheened bodies moving in perfect rhythm in the moonlight, she cried out with a sweet mixture of passion, pleasure and triumph.