people we’re looking for.’
Completely discomfited, Diana sprang to her feet. ‘I’ll show myself out,’ she said in her coldest, crispest tone, the one she used when personal shoppers were late for an appointment or some hapless maitre d’couldn’t fit her and Ernie in at the last minute.
‘You do that,’ Kathy said, ignoring her rage completely. Diana paused at the door to her office hoping that some snappy quip would spring to her lips; something really cutting and harsh. But nothing suggested itself, and the managing editor was already busy with the papers on her desk.
Diana marched out of her office, barely able to stop herself from slamming the door, which would have been childish, and given the bitch more satisfaction. The only difference between this interview and the others was that in this one the insults had been open. In the other ones, they had been veiled. But Diana knew when she was being mocked.
The elevator ride down seemed eternal and depressing. The sinking feeling in the pit ofher stomach matched the sinking feeling in her life. Diana gazed at the well-put together, slim, curvy figure that gazed back at her from the shiny elevator inner doors. It was a beautiful reflection, no two ways about it. But how long would it stay that way? She was trembling on the threshold of thirty; and she hadn’t felt this depressed since she turned twenty and could no longer call herself a teenager. Too old to be a fashion assistant? But that was -. unfair.
8o
Ridiculous. Ageist. Diana wanted to hit somebody. She felt a few tears prickling at the back of her eyes, and th, at was unforgivable, because they would make her mascara bleed and her foundation would go all grey.
I’m supposed to be the hottest new bride in town, Diana thought. So why do I suddenly feel so abandoned and useless?
By the time she got home it was 4 p.m. The sun was still high in the sky, and yet she felt exhausted. Right now all she wanted to do was to get into a hot bath and then go to bed.
‘Buenos dias, senora,’ Consuela said, giving her a bright, fake smile. ‘Senora Felicity and Senora Natasha call for yoq. They say to ring them. Also, Senor Cicero waits in the guest room.’
Diana steadied herself against her dark oak balustrade, trying to process this information. She certainly didn’t want to deal with Natty and Felicity in her present mood.
And who in the name of goodness was Senor Cicero? ‘Mr Cicero?’
‘Si, si. Ees friend of Senor Foxton.’
‘Oh. Let me go and say hello,’ Diana said faintly. She searched her memory, trying to figure out exactly which of Ernie’s myriad business contacts this man was. And why had he come over o the house?
She hurriedly smoothed down her skirt, and slapped on a smile she didn’t feel, and pushed open the door.
‘Oh hell,’ Diana said, ‘it’s you.’
8i
. Chapter
A month earlier, Michael walked purposefully down Seventh Avenue and people got out of his way, as they always did in New York. He was young, true, but he carried himself like a much older man. Most thirty-year olds didn’t wear heavy-cut, dark suits and sober Paisley ties. And most thirty-year-olds weren’t built like a Giants linebacker. But then again, most thirty-year-old males in this city weren’t running their own companies out of a midtown skyscraper.
In bars, at night, Michael had sometimes been mistaken for a stupid guy. Some men - weaker men - took one look at the hard, thick chest, and the muscular arms arid strong thighs, and assumed he was a jock, an idiot. Michael didn’t mind. It was human nature to be jealous. Like a beautiful blond woman, he was thought to have no brain. It was more enjoyable to cut down sarcastic remarks with words than with fists, of course. Besides, when Michael asked another guy to step outside, he usually took one look at him and then backed down.
Since he started wearing sui-ts, he got a little more respect. But he didn’t care about the
Completely discomfited, Diana sprang to her feet. ‘I’ll show myself out,’ she said in her coldest, crispest tone, the one she used when personal shoppers were late for an appointment or some hapless maitre d’couldn’t fit her and Ernie in at the last minute.
‘You do that,’ Kathy said, ignoring her rage completely. Diana paused at the door to her office hoping that some snappy quip would spring to her lips; something really cutting and harsh. But nothing suggested itself, and the managing editor was already busy with the papers on her desk.
Diana marched out of her office, barely able to stop herself from slamming the door, which would have been childish, and given the bitch more satisfaction. The only difference between this interview and the others was that in this one the insults had been open. In the other ones, they had been veiled. But Diana knew when she was being mocked.
The elevator ride down seemed eternal and depressing. The sinking feeling in the pit ofher stomach matched the sinking feeling in her life. Diana gazed at the well-put together, slim, curvy figure that gazed back at her from the shiny elevator inner doors. It was a beautiful reflection, no two ways about it. But how long would it stay that way? She was trembling on the threshold of thirty; and she hadn’t felt this depressed since she turned twenty and could no longer call herself a teenager. Too old to be a fashion assistant? But that was -. unfair.
8o
Ridiculous. Ageist. Diana wanted to hit somebody. She felt a few tears prickling at the back of her eyes, and th, at was unforgivable, because they would make her mascara bleed and her foundation would go all grey.
I’m supposed to be the hottest new bride in town, Diana thought. So why do I suddenly feel so abandoned and useless?
By the time she got home it was 4 p.m. The sun was still high in the sky, and yet she felt exhausted. Right now all she wanted to do was to get into a hot bath and then go to bed.
‘Buenos dias, senora,’ Consuela said, giving her a bright, fake smile. ‘Senora Felicity and Senora Natasha call for yoq. They say to ring them. Also, Senor Cicero waits in the guest room.’
Diana steadied herself against her dark oak balustrade, trying to process this information. She certainly didn’t want to deal with Natty and Felicity in her present mood.
And who in the name of goodness was Senor Cicero? ‘Mr Cicero?’
‘Si, si. Ees friend of Senor Foxton.’
‘Oh. Let me go and say hello,’ Diana said faintly. She searched her memory, trying to figure out exactly which of Ernie’s myriad business contacts this man was. And why had he come over o the house?
She hurriedly smoothed down her skirt, and slapped on a smile she didn’t feel, and pushed open the door.
‘Oh hell,’ Diana said, ‘it’s you.’
8i
. Chapter
A month earlier, Michael walked purposefully down Seventh Avenue and people got out of his way, as they always did in New York. He was young, true, but he carried himself like a much older man. Most thirty-year olds didn’t wear heavy-cut, dark suits and sober Paisley ties. And most thirty-year-olds weren’t built like a Giants linebacker. But then again, most thirty-year-old males in this city weren’t running their own companies out of a midtown skyscraper.
In bars, at night, Michael had sometimes been mistaken for a stupid guy. Some men - weaker men - took one look at the hard, thick chest, and the muscular arms arid strong thighs, and assumed he was a jock, an idiot. Michael didn’t mind. It was human nature to be jealous. Like a beautiful blond woman, he was thought to have no brain. It was more enjoyable to cut down sarcastic remarks with words than with fists, of course. Besides, when Michael asked another guy to step outside, he usually took one look at him and then backed down.
Since he started wearing sui-ts, he got a little more respect. But he didn’t care about the
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