coffee and a bottle of Evian.
Chris pocketed his BlackBerry and took a gulp of coffee.
Max consulted his watch. ‘It’s nine-fifteen,’ he said irritably. ‘I was asked to be here at nine.’
‘We were all told to be here at nine,’ Chris said.
‘Christ!’ Max said, tapping his fingers on the coffee-table. ‘When does it stop?’
‘When does what stop?’ Jett asked.
‘This manipulative crap,’ Max said harshly. ‘This controlling shit. He still seems to think he can treat us like we’re twelve.’
‘You think he’s gonna change now?’ Chris asked.
‘At least he can’t beat us,’ Jett remarked. ‘Man, he was quick with his freakin’ stick. I’ve still got the marks on my ass.’
‘I’ll find out what’s going on,’ Max said, getting up and walking towards the door. ‘I have appointments, a business crisis to deal with. I can’t afford to waste anymore time.’
‘And I have to get back to L.A. There’s a phone backup of demanding clients waiting for me,’ Chris said, winking at Jett. ‘How about you, surfer kid?’
‘Hey, you’re the one who lives in California,’ Jett answered, grinning.
‘And very nice it is too. Come visit sometime. I’ve got a great house you can stay at.’
‘Thanks, but I was thinking of hanging around New York for a couple of weeks,’ Jett said, dying to tell someone about last night. ‘Y’ see, I met a girl—’
Before he could finish, the door opened and there stood Lady Jane Bentley, an elegant woman in a Chanel-suit-and-pearls kind of way. Auburn hair worn in an upswept style, minimum make-up, frosty eyes and a fixed smile.
‘Good morning, boys,’ she said, obviously going for the mother-figure posture. ‘Your father and I are so glad you could make it.’
Jett barely remembered her. His only encounters with Lady Jane were blanks on account of his having been drunk or stoned out of his mind.
Chris had met her a few times, most memorably when she’d visited L.A. with her two English step-nieces. They’d stayed at the Peninsula Hotel and she’d expected them all to be treated like visiting royalty.
Fat chance. The only people treated like royalty in Hollywood were the stars and moguls who made over thirty mill a year. Other than that it was everyone for themselves.
Since they lived in the same city, Max knew her best. He considered her a cold fish, the type of woman his father deserved.
Lady Jane surveyed Red’s three sons and wished that they didn’t exist. Even though Red rarely spoke about them, she was well aware that they represented the continuation of his bloodline, and therefore they were a threat. Eventually she expected Red to marry her, in spite of the fact that whenever she brought up the subject he laughed in her face, which did not please her: she was a determined woman used to getting her own way, exactly like him. However, she persevered, for she knew that as he got older he would weaken, and she would become the fifth Mrs Diamond. Then they could all go to hell.
‘I do hope everyone had a pleasant experience getting here,’ Lady Jane continued. ‘Travelling today is quite appalling. There’s no such thing as first class anymore. Everyone is treated as if they’re cattle. Unless you travel by private plane it’s quite hopeless.’
Not only is she an icy bitch, she’s a snob too , Chris thought. Which made it difficult for him to understand why she was with old Red, who’d belched, farted and sworn his way to the top of the heap with no apologies to anyone.
Oh, yeah, money, money, money. What else?
‘I flew in on Jonathan Goode’s plane,’ Chris offered. ‘Guess you’re right. Private is the only way to go.’
Lady Jane was unimpressed. She was probably one of the few women in America who had no idea who Jonathan Goode was.
‘Where’s Red?’ Max asked, getting right to the reason they were all there.
‘I’m so sorry to disappoint you,’ Lady Jane said, coolly distant. ‘Your father is not
Chris pocketed his BlackBerry and took a gulp of coffee.
Max consulted his watch. ‘It’s nine-fifteen,’ he said irritably. ‘I was asked to be here at nine.’
‘We were all told to be here at nine,’ Chris said.
‘Christ!’ Max said, tapping his fingers on the coffee-table. ‘When does it stop?’
‘When does what stop?’ Jett asked.
‘This manipulative crap,’ Max said harshly. ‘This controlling shit. He still seems to think he can treat us like we’re twelve.’
‘You think he’s gonna change now?’ Chris asked.
‘At least he can’t beat us,’ Jett remarked. ‘Man, he was quick with his freakin’ stick. I’ve still got the marks on my ass.’
‘I’ll find out what’s going on,’ Max said, getting up and walking towards the door. ‘I have appointments, a business crisis to deal with. I can’t afford to waste anymore time.’
‘And I have to get back to L.A. There’s a phone backup of demanding clients waiting for me,’ Chris said, winking at Jett. ‘How about you, surfer kid?’
‘Hey, you’re the one who lives in California,’ Jett answered, grinning.
‘And very nice it is too. Come visit sometime. I’ve got a great house you can stay at.’
‘Thanks, but I was thinking of hanging around New York for a couple of weeks,’ Jett said, dying to tell someone about last night. ‘Y’ see, I met a girl—’
Before he could finish, the door opened and there stood Lady Jane Bentley, an elegant woman in a Chanel-suit-and-pearls kind of way. Auburn hair worn in an upswept style, minimum make-up, frosty eyes and a fixed smile.
‘Good morning, boys,’ she said, obviously going for the mother-figure posture. ‘Your father and I are so glad you could make it.’
Jett barely remembered her. His only encounters with Lady Jane were blanks on account of his having been drunk or stoned out of his mind.
Chris had met her a few times, most memorably when she’d visited L.A. with her two English step-nieces. They’d stayed at the Peninsula Hotel and she’d expected them all to be treated like visiting royalty.
Fat chance. The only people treated like royalty in Hollywood were the stars and moguls who made over thirty mill a year. Other than that it was everyone for themselves.
Since they lived in the same city, Max knew her best. He considered her a cold fish, the type of woman his father deserved.
Lady Jane surveyed Red’s three sons and wished that they didn’t exist. Even though Red rarely spoke about them, she was well aware that they represented the continuation of his bloodline, and therefore they were a threat. Eventually she expected Red to marry her, in spite of the fact that whenever she brought up the subject he laughed in her face, which did not please her: she was a determined woman used to getting her own way, exactly like him. However, she persevered, for she knew that as he got older he would weaken, and she would become the fifth Mrs Diamond. Then they could all go to hell.
‘I do hope everyone had a pleasant experience getting here,’ Lady Jane continued. ‘Travelling today is quite appalling. There’s no such thing as first class anymore. Everyone is treated as if they’re cattle. Unless you travel by private plane it’s quite hopeless.’
Not only is she an icy bitch, she’s a snob too , Chris thought. Which made it difficult for him to understand why she was with old Red, who’d belched, farted and sworn his way to the top of the heap with no apologies to anyone.
Oh, yeah, money, money, money. What else?
‘I flew in on Jonathan Goode’s plane,’ Chris offered. ‘Guess you’re right. Private is the only way to go.’
Lady Jane was unimpressed. She was probably one of the few women in America who had no idea who Jonathan Goode was.
‘Where’s Red?’ Max asked, getting right to the reason they were all there.
‘I’m so sorry to disappoint you,’ Lady Jane said, coolly distant. ‘Your father is not
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