off him like heat. ‘What was that about?’ he asked when Sherilyn had disappeared next door.
Aurora yawned. ‘I expect Dad’s bought me another car,’ she mused. ‘They’ll want it to be a surprise, but I guess they have to tell me if they want to co-ordinate it with the arrival of the stallion. To be honest, I don’t know where I’ll keep another one—and anyway, I don’t even have my permit!’
‘Your mother and I have one last gift for you,’ said Tom over lunch. The waiter refilled their water. Cubes of ice tinkled and cracked in the glass, melting slowly in the afternoon sun. Il Cielo boasted a gorgeous terrace and, as ever, Tom Nash and his family had secured the best table.
Aurora, admiring her new bleached-blonde hairstyle in an enormous window, grinned. ‘Cool! What is it?’
A gaggle of fans approached. Tom swore under his breath at the fresh interruption but smiled pleasantly enough as he and Sherilyn signed scraps of paper and the backs of tabs. Women fancied Tom Nash like crazy: his alpha vibe rendered them babbling incoherent wrecks. They fell for his Southern charm with its twist of LA polish; they adored his vocal Republican stance. Tom was all about tradition, about core values, work ethic and the importance of family. They lapped it up like kittens.
On the other hand, everyone regarded Aurora, and her new hairstyle, with a pinch of trepidation, as though she were a sitting bomb that could blast off at any second. Fine, fuck the lot of them. Aurora sighed loudly, impatient for her dad to spill.
Sherilyn forked her barely touched crab linguine. ‘Go on, Tom,’ she said softly.
Aurora frowned. What could they have bought her? Maybe it wasn’t a car, after all. Maybe it was something sicker that even she hadn’t imagined—and she’d imagined most things.
At last, Tom spoke. ‘We’re sending you to England.’
Aurora was pleased. ‘London? Can I stay at the Dorchester again?’
‘Not exactly a shopping trip, honey,’ said Sherilyn.
There was an uncomfortable pause.
‘Boarding school,’ said Tom, clearing his throat. WHAT?
‘What?’ shrieked Aurora, horrified.
Her parents exchanged glances. ‘That’s right,’ said Tom. ‘And it’s not in London. It’s a prestigious, little-known school in the North. You’ll receive the attention you need there.’
Aurora’s mouth was hanging open. She couldn’t believe it.
‘You can’t do this to me,’ she squawked. ‘I won’t go. I’m not going. Boarding school?’ The very word conjured images of prison bars and child labour.
Sherilyn touched her arm. ‘We didn’t take this decision lightly,’ she crooned. ‘But we do think it’s the best thing for you. After what happened with—’ she cleared her throat ‘—Sebastian Ortega. And crashing the Ferrari. And Mink Ray.’
‘What do you know about Mink Ray?’ Aurora’s face was burning. Had they been spying on her?
‘You’ll be home every few weeks for vacation,’ said Tom. ‘And we’ve organised a guardian for you in London so you can be there for exeats.’
Aurora didn’t even know what the word meant. This was a fucking outrage!
‘You can’t make me go,’ she said, lip wobbling.
But Tom remained uncharacteristically steadfast. ‘It’s for your own good,’ he said, sawing his veal in a manner that suggested the end of the discussion. ‘Therapy doesn’t work, rehab doesn’t work … This is our last option and we believe it will be the making of you.’
‘And this is meant to be my birthday present? Are you kidding me?’
Tom’s face softened. ‘Well—’ he put down his cutlery and smiled tentatively ‘—I was going to wait till tomorrow, but since you asked … We’ve got you that Porsche you wanted as well.’
‘Fuck the fucking Porsche,’ lashed Aurora, scraping her chair back and getting to her feet. She lifted her mother’s glass of red wine and emptied it pointlessly over the ciabatta rolls.
She was going to England over her dead body. There was no fucking way.
12 Stevie
Stevie woke to the glare of sunlight. She had a slight headache brought on by too many cocktails the previous evening, and foggily remembered the bar that she and Will Gardner had ended up in. Weeks had passed since they’d met at Linus Posen’s party and she supposed they’d begun a relationship of sorts, insofar as nights out and occasional sex went. Will knew little of her life and she saw no reason why he should: she’d been frank at the outset that she wasn’t in it for a relationship and he’d claimed he was happy with that.
Will’s arm was thrown across her. She watched his sleeping face, handsome in repose, the eyelashes long and the jaw peppered with stubble. Will was good-looking, funny, and nice company—he was a good bet, surely, for any girl. Sex with him was fine, it was pleasant, but she rarely came and when she did it was only on top. Before Stevie had started at Simms & Court she’d had a string of short-lived boyfriends with whom sex had been the same way. Was she destined always to judge others against the man who had changed that? Why should she, when he had treated her so badly? It made her hate him more and more, because nearly a year after their parting he still had her in his clutches, refusing to let her go.
What had it been about him? What made him so special? Was it the way he’d listened to her, after years at home of being one voice among many, as if she were the most captivating woman on earth? Was it the attention he’d lavished, the compliments he’d given? Was it his authority, his age, his influence? That made her sound like a floozy secretary, and of course she knew it was the mother of all stereotypes. Boss works after hours, assistant fixes the drinks, maybe she even calls his wife to let her know he’ll be home late … To her disgrace, she’d done that once. The sound of the other woman’s voice would never leave her, and it was only after they were over that she was able to analyse what she’d heard in it: resignation, disappointment, but most of all sadness. Infinite, profound sadness—for Stevie understood now that it had happened before, probably many, many times. And through her inability at the time to think outside how she admired him, and how his marriage, she’d been told, was all but over, she’d pushed the woman to the back of her mind and pretended she didn’t exist. It was shameful.
It was also what her father had done to her mother. That was the worst part.
Will opened his eyes, a contented smile spreading across his face. He rolled on to his back, and in an effort to forget the past Stevie moved to kiss him, feeling him reach around her waist, pulling her close. A groan escaped as he grew between her hands. She manoeuvred herself on top, desperate for release, slipping on protection and gasping as he entered.
Will gripped her as she began to rock back and forth. ‘You’re gorgeous,’ he breathed, sitting to embrace her, grazing her breasts, moving with her, kissing her chin and then her lips.
Stevie’s rhythm became more frantic. She could feel the surge rising and pushed Will back on to the pillows, riding him harder now, wanting him to fill her up and
