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‘You aren’t doing anything,’ Venice corrected Nick coldly, taking hold of his arm. ‘Don’t make even more of a fool of yourself than you need, Nick. Peter and I have worked hard on you, on your image; don’t go and wreck it all by having one of your tantrums. Let him enjoy his petty moment of triumph. What does it matter? Once the place is open and his precious delinquents start making their presence felt…’
‘You told me he wasn’t going to be re-elected to the council,’ Nick interrupted her bitterly. ‘You said he had no chance of getting permission to use Broughton House as a rehabilitation centre. You…’
‘When I said he wouldn’t be re-elected, we still thought he was after planning permission to convert the house into a shopping centre. Now that he’s taken on this saintly mantle of public do-gooder, there’s nothing we can do to shift him. Not yet, anyway.
‘Stop worrying about him, Nick, for God’s sake. What is he, after all? Just some small-town councillor, as you said. You’ve got far more important things to worry about. Like convincing the party stronghold that you’ve got what it takes to play a far more high-profile role than that of mere MP.
‘I’ve had a word with Peter and we’re going to organise a dinner in town next month, not too early in the dinner-party season—the timing will be very important. Peter knows a few names he can get to come; a couple of titles and there’s an ancient ex-PM he can drag out of mothballs. The old boy’s practically gaga, but it looks good, creates the right impression. Oh, and that reminds me, I’m going to have to go up to town for a couple of days next week to check on how the work’s going on the new house. There’s no need for you to come. You can’t anyway, you’ve got that dinner to attend, haven’t you?
‘Peter will drive me up and bring me back…’
Venice smiled sensuously to herself as she listened to Nick’s petulant protests. She had been lucky; she had got her figure back completely from the baby now. Peter had remarked on how smooth her skin was, how supple her flesh. Her smile widened. He was an adoring lover, amusing for the moment, but not for much longer. Ending their affair would also give her an excuse for changing PR agencies. She needed someone more upmarket now, someone with more political clout.
She glanced at Nick, contempt curling her mouth. It had been even easier to get him to toe the line than she had expected. She looked towards the podium where Adam was now stepping back down, immediately reaching out to draw Fern close to him.
Ridiculous for a man like him to be so obviously and so intensely in love, and with dull, stupid Fern of all women.
Adam was completely wasted on her, and it was a pity that her plans precluded her from teaching Adam that fact.
She looked back at Nick. He was looking edgy and irritable, his face slightly flushed with petulance and frustration.
She would have to let him back into her bed tonight; she had seen the way he had looked at Peter’s secretary this morning. She smiled cynically to herself. It wasn’t very difficult to keep him to heel. Sex to Nick was like sweets to a child.
* * *
‘Ready to go home?’
Fern looked up at Adam. ‘We can’t leave yet,’ she protested. ‘No one else has.’
‘Someone has to be the first; besides, I’m tired of looking at you and not being able to touch you, not being able to show you how much I love you…’
‘You show me all the time,’ she told him, softly smiling at him—and knew that it was true.
* * *
‘Are you sure I look all right?’
Marcus tugged uncomfortably at his tie as though he felt it was too tight.
‘You look fine,’ Eleanor assured him.
‘Are you sure this is the right thing? I mean, won’t she be expecting all of us…?’
‘You’re doing the right thing, Marcus. She’ll be thrilled…’
‘I’m not even sure I’ll be able to recognise her,’ Marcus groaned. ‘Not after six weeks in New York with Jade.’
Eleanor laughed. ‘Hurry up, otherwise you’ll be late for her flight.’
She kissed him briefly and then more lingeringly, looking into his eyes, her own soft and tender with emotion.
‘It will be all right, Marcus,’ she told him softly.
‘You say that, but…’
‘It will be all right,’ Eleanor repeated.
* * *
