Kitabı oku: «The Summer Villa»

To great friends, old and new.

Contents

Cover

Praise

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Publisher

Prologue

It was just a little white lie. A way to kickstart her freedom.

And Kim Weston was now officially a runaway.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the idea as she stared out the window of the aeroplane into the abyss around her. Thirty years old – an adult – and here she was, running away from home.

She’d boarded a flight from JFK earlier and watched as the sky turned from pale blue to black. They were already six hours into a nine-hour journey and she was tired but couldn’t sleep.

There wasn’t a star to be seen, no way to discriminate the ocean below from the sky above. Nothing but emptiness.

Ironic because it was exactly how Kim felt inside. She had no reason to, or so everyone told her.

She had everything – the luxurious Manhattan apartment, a personal driver to take her wherever she wanted to go, generous expense accounts at all the best Fifth Avenue stores, and a black Amex to service every last one of her spending needs.

She and her friends were the crème de la crème of New York’s Upper East Side society set and partied with celebrities and VIPs alike. By all accounts she had the quintessential dream life.

So why was she running away?

She could still hear her parents’ voices in her head and her own guilt in her heart as she sat quietly nursing a vodka and orange juice.

Most of the cabin’s passengers were asleep, and the crew was moving around less frequently, but Kim’s mind simply wouldn’t quit.

For once, she wasn’t playing the role she’d been allotted. If she was expected to assume her part in the Weston family script for the rest of her life, then she needed a chance to play the rebel, even if only briefly.

Everything was planned to ensure that her parents wouldn’t find her – at least not for a little while.

Her destination (and certainly choice of accommodation) wasn’t somewhere Peter or Gloria would ever think to look for her, since it was so far removed from the kind of places the Westons usually frequented.

No five-star luxury hotel suite awaiting Kim when she arrived. Instead she was staying at a tumbledown villa she’d found on the internet, where she’d be sharing living space and possibly even a room with other guests. She shuddered involuntarily.

Kim was roughing it, in as much as someone like her could. The house had no on-site staff, apparently there was someone who’d come by daily to tidy and meet and greet, but that was it. No concierge, butler, in-house chef – nothing.

For once, she was going to have to cater for herself – in more ways than one.

That gave her some sense of unease; she wasn’t exactly Martha Stewart, which was why she also planned to maybe enlist herself in an Italian cookery class, as suggested by the booking site she’d used. Failing that, she’d just survive on pizza and pasta. It was Italy, after all.

And she could afford that much, for a little while at least.

It was early afternoon when the flight landed at Naples airport and the transfer service she’d arranged (her final luxury – she wasn’t going to rough it entirely after a transatlantic economy flight) picked her up outside the terminal.

‘Signorina Weston?’ the driver holding the sign with her name on it queried as she approached.

‘That’s me.’

‘Buongiorno. Right this way,’ the young Italian man instructed as he directed Kim to a waiting black Mercedes.

She stepped outside of the terminal, her long slender legs clad in white jeans, which complemented her hot pink poncho. Sunglasses protected her eyes from the bright sun but she still held a hand to her forehead to shield them as she stared up at an almost cloudless Italian blue sky.

‘I am Alfeo,’ the driver introduced himself as they walked, taking her luggage along with him. ‘How was your flight?’

‘Long,’ she answered. She was bone-tired, a little cranky and not particularly in the mood for small talk.

Alfeo nodded and opened the car door for her. ‘The journey will take just over an hour and a half depending on traffic. But we can stop along the way if you need anything.’

‘That’s fine,’ Kim replied as she slid into the back seat and tipped her head against the leather headrest. She closed her eyes, suddenly spent and exhausted from worrying now that she was here.

She was really doing this …

It seemed as if only a few minutes had passed when she was woken by Alfeo’s voice announcing arrival at their destination.

Kim blinked several times as she tried to gather her bearings, then lowered the window to look out at her surroundings. They were parked down some kind of laneway, and up ahead she could make out a grubby wall of peach-coloured plaster, and a paint-chipped wooden door – the only interruption on an otherwise blank façade.

Unimpressed, she regarded the weather-worn door and its tarnished brass ring, and hid a frown as she dragged manicured nails through her tousled blonde mane, pulling her hair partially over her shoulder.

Her heart fell. This place looked like a complete dump. She sincerely hoped the inside was a helluva lot better.

‘This is Villa Dolce Vita, right?’ she asked, casting a fatigued gaze at Alfeo as she stepped out onto the dusty gravel pathway.

‘Si. Villa Dolce Vita.’

‘I’ll need your number,’ she stated as she walked towards him with her phone in hand. ‘Just in case.’

Alfeo complied, assuring her that he’d be available whenever she needed, the suggestive grin on his face indicating he meant for more than just transportation. Were Italian men really such unabashed flirts?

‘Can you maybe just help get my cases inside before you go?’

‘Of course.’ He duly took her suitcases out of the boot, while Kim wandered further along the perimeter wall to where a break in the trees gave way to a view of the sea.

Realising that they were on an elevated site, high above the glittering Gulf of Naples, she glanced to her left to see a group of impossibly beautiful pastel-coloured buildings and terracotta roofs, clinging and huddled together.

The set-up immediately put her in mind of a huge piñata cake: the centre of the green and grey mountain cut open to release a tumbling selection of irresistible pastel-coloured candy.

Now this is more like it …

Further along down the coast, rock promontories jutted out above diverging bays, beaches and terraces, all presiding over cerulean waters. Hills dotted with lush vineyards, olive trees and citrus groves looked down over the colourful shops, cafés, hotels and historic buildings scattered below.

Sailboats dotted the clear blue waters and, looking down from where she stood, Kim could see snaking wooden steps leading all the way to the rocky shore below.

The whole thing was dizzying in every sense of the word.

By the time she returned to the villa entrance, Alfeo was gone, but the old wooden door had been left ajar.

Kim slipped through into the courtyard area to discover a hidden garden of sorts.

The dark pea gravel of outside gave way to a lighter-coloured, more decorative kind, and she noticed heavy stone planters dotted throughout the small courtyard area, housing rows of mature lemon and olive trees.

Coupled with vibrant magenta bougainvillea tumbling down the edge of an old stone building – evidently the villa itself – the garden was a riot of colour, and against the azure sky and glittering water on the bay, made for a picture-perfect entrance.

Citrus scent from the lemon trees followed as Kim walked to the front of the property, her senses now well and truly awakened.

The villa was of the same blotchy peach plaster as the outside wall, a pretty two-storey house with a terracotta roof and rustic windows trimmed with dull cast iron railings that had long since seen better days.

Turning to check out the view from the front of the house, Kim noticed a terraced area beneath the gardens, accessible by four or five stone steps leading down to small pool bordering the edge of the entire site overlooking the panoramic bay.

Without the ornate bougainvillea-laden perimeter railings holding everything together, it was as if the entire site could easily slip right off the edge and plummet down to the rocky shore below.

OK, so this place was old, but surprisingly charming, and while Kim didn’t have high hopes for the quality of accommodation, given the crumbling exteriors, she already felt a weird sense of calm at just being here.

It was as if Villa Dolce Vita had already cast a spell on her.

A chipped wooden front door with a ringed black-painted knocker at its centre stood wide open, and Kim hesitated momentarily as she listened for noise from inside.

She wasn’t sure if there were other guests staying there already or if anyone was even expecting her, but there was no going back now.

She took a deep breath. She was really here. Doing her own thing, finding her own path.

Time to take the plunge.

Here goes nothing …

Chapter 1

Now

The word ‘transformation’ was an understatement.

The once-crumbling Villa Dolce Vita was now one of the loveliest restorations on the Amalfi Coast area, in Kim’s opinion at least. It was the perfect location for a wellness centre and retreat, and was going to be the ultimate real-life showcase for her business, The Sweet Life.

In the two years since they’d bought it, Kim and her business partners had wholly achieved their intention to create a very subtle, yet contemporary architectural update that reinterpreted the character of the building, while staying faithful to its origins.

Outside, the cast iron perimeter and window railings had all been lovingly restored, external plasterwork and sash windows replaced with wholly sympathetic but weatherproof alternatives, and every last one of the terrace’s limestone tiles and steps had been completely relaid to ensure a sleeker, less rickety poolside surface.

The gardens had been well-maintained throughout the years, and while they’d had no choice but to cut back some of the more aggressive bougainvillea so as to retouch the exterior plasterwork, and earmarked a patch previously overrun with dying trees for a lawned area, little other work had been required.

The remaining good olive and lemon trees still bore heavy fruit, and the familiar citrus scent now filled the warm summer air as Kim wound her way through the courtyard.

At last, the Villa Dolce Vita Wellness and Cultural Retreat was due to open next month and Kim couldn’t wait.

‘Just here,’ she said, as she supervised the delivery guys. The patio furniture some of the locals were carrying had been hand-picked by Kim, each piece reflecting her own classic style as well as the influence of their Amalfi Coast surroundings.

‘Giving orders already, I see,’ an amused male voice called out from behind her.

Kim smiled. ‘Someone once told me that if you want something done right you have to do it yourself.’

‘Yes, I think I have heard that one.’ Antonio Berger had been one of Kim’s business partners for the past five years. More than two decades her senior, the Italian was more of a father figure and mentor, and encouraged her in every venture she pursued.

When she’d first met him and his wife, Emilia, on her first visit to Italy almost six years before, they’d been a welcome presence in her life and much-needed guides as she tried to navigate away from her upbringing and figure out what to do with her life.

Antonio, as ever, was dressed in a light-coloured linen suit and square-front brown leather shoes. His salt-and-pepper hair was brushed back regally, accentuating his long face and square jaw, and his lively brown eyes lit up as he smiled at her.

‘As always, you already seem to have everything covered,’ he commented, stepping back and casually slipping a hand into his trouser pocket as he regarded the villa’s freshly renovated grandeur. ‘You certainly don’t need me.’

‘I always need you,’ she answered with a grin. ‘So do you want the grand tour?’

The pair walked back towards the main house together. ‘You haven’t been here since we bought it, have you?’ she realised as she led him through the narrow hallway to the kitchen at the rear.

She smiled fondly as the memories of her arrival here all those years ago came rushing back.

How the kitchen had once been a cornucopia of blue, green and yellow with its grubby tiling, mismatched cheap units, and equally mismatched plates and cups on the open shelves. All the kitchen units were now bespoke in dark wood, complementing the ochres and light blue accents, and contrasting the wider openings and light tinted walls.

A brand-new staircase replaced the old heavy wooden steps and rails, completely redefining the formerly dark and dreary entryway. Constructed in white-coated metal, the stairs appeared as if suspended from a softly curved aperture above the main space, adding instant character and interest to the reception area.

The interiors felt lighter, brighter, and much more spacious, with blues and greys of the ocean incorporated primarily in the soft furnishings, bringing a restful classic feel that could be easily updated.

The colour ochre recurred throughout, contrasting with new glass openings overhead and lighter shades on the walls. Bright terrazzo flooring had been installed throughout in place of the dark terracotta mishmash that had welcomed Kim six years before.

‘Actually, no,’ he replied. ‘I meant to, but you know … with Emilia,’ he added gently, referring to his wife who had recently been diagnosed with dementia.

‘How is she?’

Kim noted the way Antonio’s chest rose and fell before he spoke. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to come to terms with the fact that the person you love will eventually lose all memory of you and the life you shared.

It was difficult enough for Kim to get her head around the decline of a sunny, vibrant woman into the confused and frightened soul she apparently was now.

Not that she’d seen Emilia recently, she thought guiltily, given how busy she’d been getting this place ready for the launch. The Bergers were based in Milan, while Kim lived in California, where her husband was from, and whenever she travelled to Italy to check on the renovation project, her short visits had been restricted to the Amalfi Coast.

‘It is hard to say. Sometimes she is perfectly lucid, the same Emilia, while others …’ he trailed off solemnly. ‘The doctors have been talking about residential care but I think that is premature,’ he added, almost to himself. Kim knew the very idea of it was killing him.

She stepped forward to give him another hug.

‘It’ll be lovely to see her at the party and once all of this is over, I’m looking forward to spending some quality time with you both.’

He patted her back paternally. ‘It’s OK, I’m coming to terms with it, and for the most part she is still my Emilia. We’ve had a good life and have been through a lot together. She gave me two beautiful children and almost forty years of true love,’ he said with a fond smile. ‘I would be nowhere else than by her side.’

‘Then I’m even more grateful that you carved out the time for me. I know it must’ve been a wrench to leave her.’

He shook his head lightly. ‘No, no, she is excited about this. You needed me also, and of course she and I are not just your partners, but your friends, too. In any case,’ he teased, ‘perhaps she will not even miss me.’

Though she knew he was joking, she could still hear the pain behind his words. Ever the optimist, she knew he was trying his utmost to not let his wife’s diagnosis blight their lives or dampen their spirits.

Now he took both of her hands in his. ‘So how are you, bella?’

Kim smiled gamely but knew it didn’t reach her eyes and Antonio would likely see through her own pretence just as easily. ‘Just OK,’ she answered, averting her gaze. ‘I’m a bit tired. There’s been a lot going on and still loads to get through. At least I’m here on the ground now, the invites are out and the guest list is finalised …’

‘Well, it’s a long list. Are your friends going to make it? The ladies who were with you that summer?’

Kim had almost forgotten she’d first met Antonio the same time as Annie and Colette. The three had come together as strangers six years ago at the villa but in the ensuing years had managed to maintain their friendship, albeit at long-distance with their contact now sporadic.

She and Colette had been guests at each other’s weddings, and she’d managed to meet up with Annie on a business trip to Dublin the year before last.

Of course, social media made it easy to keep track of each other’s lives, but Kim missed the closeness they’d shared that summer. It would be so lovely to get the gang back together in person for a reunion. Here at the villa, especially.

‘I hope so,’ Kim said, realising that she needed to check in on the RSVPs. She’d sent invites to both women, asking them and their respective plus ones to next month’s official Villa Dolce Vita Wellness and Cultural Retreat launch celebration, including flights and a hotel stay over a long weekend.

Once the party was done and the centre officially open for reservations, Kim would be temporarily free from work obligations. She relished the chance of catching up with them here and revisiting some of their old haunts.

She hooked her arm in Antonio’s. ‘Let’s keep going. I’ve still got lots to show you. The bedrooms have been transformed, too, and wait till you see where we managed to slot in the massage area.’

When he’d finished his tour of the accommodation area, and its new state-of-the-art wellness facilities, Antonio nodded with satisfaction. ‘You’ve done an amazing job, Kim. The investors will be more than happy.’

‘I just hope it’s enough to get those reservations flooding in.’ She smiled. ‘Now, how about lunch? We can head down to Il Buco, maybe? I’m feeling in the mood for pizzaiola beef.’

Antonio looked at her with a sad smile. ‘Bella, in all the time I’ve been here you have not once mentioned your husband. Gabe is coming next month, too, I hope?’

Kim’s heart stuttered guiltily. ‘Of course. He and Lily are flying in soon, actually.’ Her three-year-old, a beautiful little girl she barely saw these days.

Gabriel’s plan was to have some long overdue family time in Italy together before everything kicked off. Kim only hoped that things would run smoothly in the run-up to the launch so that she could carve out the necessary time.

Much like Antonio, her husband was an optimist at heart.

Now she could feel her mentor’s eyes following her as they meandered back out to the courtyard and down the steps to the pool terrace perched on the edge of the property. When she turned to look at him, the expression on his face said it all.

‘Don’t …’

He smiled weakly. ‘I’m sorry but thirty-odd years of marriage has taught me well. I know trouble when I see it.’ He stepped closer, taking Kim’s hand in his as he patted her knuckles. ‘Why don’t we go to lunch and you tell me everything? All right?’

But Kim didn’t want to talk about her personal life. She really didn’t. She had enough on her mind.

‘I won’t take no for an answer,’ he insisted gently and she knew there was no point in refusing.

While she’d never been able to talk to her father, to trust or confide in him, Antonio was so much more reliable. He understood her, sometimes even better than she did herself.

Minutes later, Kim leaned her head back against the plush leather seats of Antonio’s convertible Maserati as the car wound along the coast towards Sorrento. She gazed out over the water, catching sight of the magnificent island of Capri in the distance. She held her hand out, allowing the warm breeze to pass through her fingers as sunlight danced across the dazzling blue of the sea.

She would never, ever tire of this view and doubted there were many others in the world to compare.

This place had transformed her life six years ago.

Perhaps it could do the same again now.

Chapter 2

Then

She could hear them already. The authoritative voices of her folks filled the house as Peter and Gloria Weston returned from yet another trip abroad.

Kim turned her music up and rolled over on her bed.

It was Saturday, the weekend, and she was doing what she did best – nothing. Which seemed to be all her life was about.

A steady stream of nothing.

It was bad enough that they still ran her life from a distance; with them home she’d have no peace.

Kim was in no hurry to face that. She turned her back to her bedroom door and rolled over.

She was twenty-nine years old and was still living at home, despite spending four years at business school at Cornell. And for what? She wasn’t exactly sure, other than the fact that it was her parents’ will at the time, and their dime. She enjoyed her studies, but since then, hadn’t had much opportunity to put her knowledge to work.

After graduation, her venture capitalist father had given her a position in his company, though he never seemed to let her do anything except put in the hours. And, of course, wine and dine any clients he sent her way.

She learned very early on in life to go along with what her folks wanted, or forfeit the luxury of their purse strings.

Kim liked her life, her Gucci bags and jaunts to the Caribbean, summers in the Hamptons and never-ending nights out in Manhattan. Or at least she did when she was in her teens and early twenties.

As time went on, things had begun to seem samey and, well… boring. But as much as she disliked being a pawn in the games her parents played, she didn’t really have the inclination or the means to deny them.

Now a hand on her shoulder was shaking her awake, though it was unnecessary as Kim wasn’t sleeping. She groaned inwardly, feeling a bit like a teenager.

‘Fast asleep in the middle of the day? How typical,’ her mother’s voice chided as Kim grabbed her iPhone and paused Spotify.

‘Nice to see you, too, Mother.’ She gave Gloria a mirthless grin that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and her mother gave her a deeply condescending glance in return.

Kim was used to those glances. She’d been getting them her entire life.

‘Do you plan on staying in bed all day, Kimberley?’

‘If I can help it, yes,’ she answered as she attempted to turn over. Attempted was as far as she got. ‘Tough night last night.’

‘I hope you took time out of your … busy partying schedule to meet with the tech people your father requested? They were only in town for a couple of days so it was very important to him that you entertain them.’

There was always some up-and-coming entrepreneur or other business type she was expected to ‘entertain’ on her parents’ behalf – apparently because she was hot, blonde, and knew all the trendiest haunts in Manhattan.

Kim hated her ditzy socialite role; it all felt so fake and manipulative. She felt she was capable of so much more, but there was no arguing. She’d tried many times and it never worked out well.

‘I took them to Hirohisa yesterday,’ she answered, rolling her eyes. ‘They loved it. Mr Clarke had a lovely time and said he looked forward to seeing Daddy in San Francisco.’

‘Good,’ her mother replied. ‘Very good.’

Gloria was sitting on the edge of the bed, just by Kim’s hip. She always sat in the same place; it was the perfect vantage point – far enough from her daughter to avoid direct eye contact and close enough to corner her if she tried to move away.

Her mother took everything into consideration before she acted, which was probably the main reason for her parents’ success. She weighed the odds, tested the waters and then launched her attack. In her mother’s long history of battles (as Kim saw them), she had never failed in her conquests.

‘Where’s Dad?’ Kim asked casually as she listened for noise within the house. It was silent, almost as if her father wasn’t there.

‘Downstairs on the phone. Your uncle called.’

‘Did he?’ Kim said enthusiastically. Ted was the only good thing in their family as far as she was concerned. He wasn’t the raging success her parents were – far less acclaimed in his field as a lowly accountant – but he was fun and Kim liked him a lot. Much more than her folks.

‘I don’t know why you’re so happy about it; he’s probably just trying to get your father to loan him more money to invest in yet another harebrained financial scheme.’ She wrinkled her nose in disdain.

‘Why do you never have anything good to say about Uncle Ted? He’s your brother.’

‘I have no control over family – sadly. Ted made his choices and I’ve made mine. The results speak for themselves.’

Her mother was always so goddamn controlled. Not once in Kim’s entire life had she ever seen her overcome by emotion. Most of the time she wondered if Gloria actually had any for anyone or anything outside her work.

Not even her father seemed to move her. It was always the job. Kim wasn’t sure if even that made her happy. There was no way of telling.

‘Stop lazing around up here and come downstairs,’ her mother ordered with a solid pat on Kim’s shoulder. ‘Your father and I need to speak with you about something.’

Kim sighed heavily. ‘What is it? I was in the middle of something.’

‘Downstairs in two.’

She watched as her mother swept out of the room as if nothing had transpired and Kim’s protests meant diddly squat. Which was exactly the case. It was just expected that she’d do as her mother demanded. Her words and opinions were meaningless in this house, in this family.

She picked up her phone again and texted her best friend Natasha.

Meet at the club tonight? I know I’m seriously gonna need to blow off steam when this day is over. Ugh.

She slapped her phone down on the mattress and forced herself from her bed, realising there was no putting it off.

She might as well find out whatever latest scheme her parents wanted her involved in. Probably just another skinny nerd with a great idea her father wanted Kim to show a good time by pretending to be Paris Hilton.

It was embarrassing, not to mention demeaning.

She might have legs up to her armpits and green eyes that could charm George Clooney, but that didn’t mean she was dumb.

Minutes later, Kim sat, stunned.

Her parents had had a lot of shitty ideas about a lot of stuff, but this was by far the most outlandish scenario they’d ever come up with for her.

‘Are you guys serious?’ she asked for the second time, slightly dazed. ‘Or I am misunderstanding in some crazy way?’

‘Depends on what you understand,’ her mother answered coolly. ‘If you understand that you’ve had a very privileged life, with opportunities that you’ve repeatedly squandered, that you’re not getting any younger, and that we feel it’s time you got serious about your future – then yes, you understand us correctly.’

‘You actually want me not just to entertain but actually seduce some random stranger,’ Kim repeated hotly, her eyes wide.

‘He’s not a random stranger; you’ve already met Spencer Andrews. You just haven’t had a chance to spend a whole lot of time with him, that’s all. That’s what this is about. A summer in England, all expenses paid, to spend quality time with Spencer – and Lord and Lady Andrews, of course.’

‘Seriously?’ Kim’s horrified gaze shifted to her father. ‘Dad, do you understand what you guys are actually asking of me?’

‘It’s not much what we’re asking, and it’s a potentially advantageous move for you, too.’ Peter levelled his gaze on her. ‘We have paved a great path for you in life, Kimberley. We’ve always given you everything you could want – definitely more than most. Now it’s your turn to make a move that could affect your future and ours, too, of course.’ He spoke as if he were giving her a choice, whereas Kim knew better. ‘And, honey, you know like your mom pointed out, you’re really not getting any younger. That pretty face won’t last forever.’

Kim was floored, not to mention wounded to the core. In all her life she’d never been made to feel like nothing more than a piece of ass. And by her own father!

Whenever she did take his business prospects out on the town to show them a good time, she never just left it at that. Instead she talked to them about their hopes and intentions, teased out their strategies, and subtly influenced them to choose Weston Inc.

She’d thought her father knew this and quietly appreciated it. But he hadn’t even noticed.

‘You actually expect me to do this? You actually expect me to coldly pursue a guy I barely know? With marriage as the endgame? I’ve never even been in a proper relationship with someone I like, so why would I want to be involved with someone I don’t?’

She was trying her best to contain her anger and dismay. This was like something from a horror movie, playing out before her eyes. People didn’t do this in real life. They didn’t just pimp out their daughters as part of a freakin’ … business move!

But Kim realised, it was basically what her folks had always done. Except this time they wanted her to go a step further and actually try to land this English guy as a potential husband, taking her off their hands in the process.

‘Dad,’ she pleaded softly. ‘Please, don’t ask me to do this.’

‘Kim, don’t act like a child,’ Gloria tsked. ‘Do you think the life this family has comes free of cost? There’s a price and we all have to pay it. Your father paid it. I paid it. Now it’s your turn. You can’t expect us to bankroll you forever. It’s high time you had a plan for the rest of your life and we think this is the perfect start.’

Why had she thought her father would help her? He never had before. Whatever her mother wanted she got. It was clear that what Gloria wanted now was a familial connection with some kind of gentry and her father the backing of this English bigwig’s multi-billion company.

Capitalism at its finest. A merger of the purest kind and all it would cost was Kim’s sanity.

Her heart sank. They were asking her to offer herself up for their futures. It wasn’t about her. It was about them. It was always about them. She gritted her teeth.

‘I’m not doing it,’ she told them, her chin lifting. It was pointless, she knew, but she wasn’t going to just go along with something this crazy without a fight. ‘And you have no right to ask—’

‘It’s not a request, Kimberley.’ Gloria’s tone brooked no nonsense. ‘Everything’s already arranged.’

‘Well, you can just go and rearrange it then, because I’m not doing it. I’m not throwing away my life – my entire future – for one of your business deals. And it’s disgusting that you’d even consider—’

‘Maybe you might like to suggest an alternative career plan then?’ her mother interjected, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Because lazing around in bed till midday doesn’t seem like much of a go-getter strategy to me.’

‘You seem to have forgotten that I was working late last night – with Dad’s clients. Seriously, is that all I am to you two? Some built-in entertainment manager for Weston Inc.? I’m your daughter, for chrissakes! What about some consideration for my needs?’

Gloria harrumphed. ‘Your father and I have always ensured that your needs are more than catered for – with your expense accounts, generous salary and pretty much everything you could ever want.’

‘Except love …’ Kim replied in a small voice. ‘And respect for what I might want or need.’

‘Honey, think about it,’ her father began, his tone softening, and she was hopeful that her words had finally got through and appealed to his better nature. ‘This is a solid plan. You’re always saying you’re bored of New York, so it’s an ideal opportunity, to get out and explore new horizons. London is a great city – a summer there could well be exactly what you need.’

‘A summer there sounds fine, Dad; it’s what I’m expected to do while there that makes me sick.’ She stood up. ‘You know what? I’m not doing this anymore. I’ve had enough of being a pawn in this family. I’ll move out, get my own place, find a job where someone appreciates my actual talent and skills …’

‘Find your own place – here in Manhattan? How on earth will you afford that?’ Gloria gave a mirthless laugh. ‘I think you seriously overestimate those skills and talents if you expect to just randomly waltz into a job that pays the same kind of salary your father does.’

The realisation stopped Kim in her tracks. Her mother was right. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. She couldn’t make it on her own. She didn’t even know where to start. She was just a puppet and her folks held the strings; they always had.

Check. Mate.

As always, Kim was outplayed.

‘When did you want me to leave for England?’ she asked, defeated.

‘Two weeks, when your father and I head to the Hamptons. I told you she’d make the right decision in the end,’ her mother commented snidely as she turned to her father. ‘Our daughter will always choose the easy life.’

Peter didn’t answer. Instead, he got to his feet.

‘I need a coffee,’ he commented absently as he left the room. That was it. Kim’s dad had basically just whored out his only daughter, and all he could say was he needed coffee.

Tears filled her eyes as she stood up and headed for the door.

‘I’ll let the Andrews know to expect you,’ her mother said to her back as Kim left. ‘You’ve made a very wise choice this time, Kimberley. Very wise indeed.’

Chapter 3

That night, as Kim and her friend Natasha made their way from club to club in Manhattan, she drank herself into oblivion, trying to put the disgusting sordidness of her parents’ request – no, demand – out of her mind.

Part of her hoped that she’d just wander out on the street and have a cab driver end her misery for her. She was too cowardly to do it herself.

Had she really acquiesced to this? Agreed to barter herself for her family in order to secure a future for herself?

‘Hey, slow down – we’re not eighteen anymore,’ Natasha encouraged, but Kim was hearing none of it.

‘I’m fine,’ she slurred as she pushed her way again towards the bar.

‘I think you’ve had enough, actually,’ her friend interjected as she attempted to get in her way. But Kim could be persistent and with the level of alcohol that now coursed through her veins, she felt unstoppable.

‘Bartender!’ she yelled as she slapped the top of the electric green counter.

‘Seriously,’ Natasha insisted, grabbing her wrist, ‘you’ll break your hand the way you’re hitting that.’

‘So what,’ Kim snapped as she yanked it away. ‘What difference does it make? The Andrews will just get a slightly bruised whore for a daughter-in-law.’

Daughter-in-law … The word disgusted her and the notion of charming some guy into marriage made her want to throw up.

‘Hey! Vodka,’ she shouted as she raised her glass above her head and waved frantically at the bartender. The guy, who knew Kim well, hustled over and grabbed the empty glass from her hand.

‘Another one, princess?’ He smirked. Normally Kim wouldn’t have entertained his flirtations but today was different. ‘You sure?’

‘Hey, if you’re pouring then I’m drinking,’ she teased, leaning across the bar, practically falling over it, and kissing him.

‘OK, enough,’ Natasha stated as she grabbed Kim by the hem of her skirt and heaved her backwards. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘My thing,’ Kim spat. ‘What I do best. Make guys like me,’ she drawled drunkenly.

Kim could see the look of disgust and annoyance in her friend’s face but it was nothing compared to the feeling in her heart. Natasha would never know how she felt. She’d never know the betrayal, the hurt, and despair that Kim felt right then. Her life was over when it had never really begun. How could anyone call what she did living when every moment was for someone else, never herself?

And now she was about to cross a line over which she could never return.

Once she set foot on that plane and traversed the ocean, any hope of a normal life would be over. From what she remembered of them, the Andrews were stuffy and pretentious, and Spencer was the most anal guy she’d ever met. Seduce him? That bit would be easy. But marry him? That was a whole other prospect.

She grabbed the vodka bottle from the bartender, and downed the remaining contents in one go. Clear liquid burned every inch of its way down as she hissed her approval.

‘That’s what I’m talkin’ about.’

‘For crying out loud,’ Natasha sighed.

‘What?’ she snapped involuntarily.

Her friend cocked her head at her accusingly. Kim knew what that meant. She took a deep breath and sighed. She was acting out, behaving like a bratty teen. No wonder her parents wanted to marry her off.

‘Sorry,’ she apologised.

Natasha shook her head sympathetically. ‘It’s OK. I know you’ve got a lot going on right now. But this…’ she indicated the bottle and Kim’s ragged appearance, ‘this isn’t you.’

Her friend was right. This wasn’t her. She tried to refocus, get herself back in the game, but all she could think of was the upcoming trip to England and the horrific scenario it presented.

Natasha slapped her hand across the bar. ‘So what’re you going to do about it?’

Kim’s head snapped up, her wide green eyes piercing her friend’s dark gaze. ‘What can I do? It’s all decided and I agreed. Case closed.’ Feeling dizzy now from the effects of the vodka, she stumbled against the bar a little. ‘I’m outta here.’

She stumbled erratically through the crowds, her short skirt and skimpy top gaining the attention of most of the guys she passed, but she didn’t pay attention. Her eyes were solely focused on the exit. She could hear Natasha following her but she didn’t look back.

The moment they stepped outside, her friend grabbed Kim’s arm and turned her around. ‘Oh, come on, quit the “poor me” act. The Kim Weston I know doesn’t just give in. So what – now you’ve decided to just turn into a wet mop and do what they want?’

‘What does it matter?’ Kim spat. ‘Everything stays the same. They always get what they want. So why bother fighting?’

‘You’re always saying that one day you’ll finally stop letting them win and take a hold of your own life. This could be the day.’

‘Easy for you to say. Your folks are great. They don’t pressure you. They let you find your own way and just be there for you if you need them. They love you. My parents only bother with me when they need to whore me out.’

‘Seriously?’ Natasha rolled her eyes. ‘Kim, you’re nearly thirty years old. No one is stopping you from having the life you want. You’re just scared to actually go out and get it. You find excuse after excuse for why you can’t walk away from your parents, and this “woe is me” attitude, but the truth is you’re afraid to let go of the trappings that Mommy and Daddy’s cash can buy.’

The words were a fist to the gut. ‘So what if I am? You mean to tell me you wouldn’t be scared if having what you want meant giving up everything you already have, your entire way of life?’

‘Of course,’ Natasha answered. ‘I’d be terrified. We can’t pretend that we haven’t had an easy time. We’ve always had everything we’ve ever wanted. The best that money can buy. People kill for the types of lives we were born into.’

Her words weren’t helping Kim feel any better. ‘So what’s all this talk about me being scared?’

‘I’m saying it because there comes a time when you need to decide if what you want from life is more important than the trappings you’d forfeit for that freedom. Does having everything handed to you beat the ability to make your own choices? If it does, then go to England, Kim. Make Spencer what’s-his-name fall head over heels for you. Get married, have two point five children, smile for the Christmas card photos and make your parents happy, while you – Kim Weston – are dying inside.’

She could see the exact image in her mind as Natasha described it and it made her nauseous.

‘Or,’ her friend continued, ‘take a bold step. Do something crazy and different and unexpected, and see where it takes you.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. Something no one would see coming, not even you. This may be your last chance, Kim. Take it. Before you commit your life to misery, take a chance that maybe there is something more out there for you. Maybe getting the life you want isn’t so scary. I’ll help you.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know. It depends on what you want to do.’

‘I don’t know what that is either,’ Kim answered with exasperation. ‘I just want to escape from all this.’

Natasha’s eyes lit up. ‘They why the hell don’t you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, why don’t you escape? Here in New York your folks’ shadow is always looming over you. Why don’t you go somewhere they can’t influence you?’

The prospect was intriguing. ‘Like where?’

A smile spread across her friend’s tanned features and Kim’s stomach began to knot. Was she really considering this? Yes, she was.

‘Come on, let’s head back to my place and sober you up a little first,’ she stated as she took Kim by the hand and went to hail a taxi. ‘Party Girl Kim is done.’