B004D4Y20I EBOK (60 page)

Tara slumped onto a sofa, beginning to feel a little more like her old self. She looked about the clean, bright room, admiring some of the vintage pieces. She spotted some original Arne Jacobsen chairs and some Timo Sarpaneva glassware. The lightness of Scandinavian design had always appealed to her, and she loved the bright fruit colours of Ferrera’s furniture, particularly one of the curvy, organically shaped sofas in mandarin orange.

Ferrera came over and handed her a cup of coffee. ‘I remember how you like it from dinner.’

‘Thanks.’ She smiled gratefully and took it. ‘You know, this is embarrassing. I’m really not sure why I’m here.’

‘Like I said, it all got a little much. The doctor thinks you’ll be fine after some rest but I’ll ask him to come back and check you over if you like.’ Ferrera sat down opposite her.

‘No, no, really, that’s not necessary.’

‘You know what I think you need? A holiday. Some
time
to get away from it all for a bit, unwind. Be with your kids.’

Tara laughed. ‘I can’t do that. Not till November at least.’

‘Really, why not?’

‘Because that’s when
Tea Rose
is launching.’

‘But that means that most of the hard work will already be done.’

‘Not the publicity and the marketing, or the organising of the launch,’ Tara pointed out. ‘That will keep going until the day itself.’

‘All right, but can’t someone else do that? Why else did you hire Donna Asuquo? And I thought Jemima was handling a lot of the publicity – after all, she must have one of the best contact books in London.’

‘Yes,’ Tara said slowly. ‘I suppose that’s true.’

‘Of course you’ll want to be there when it goes live, but you’ve got a few weeks until then, haven’t you? Why not take a break? Let some other people shoulder the burden for a few weeks.’

Tara narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘But
you
would never take a holiday at such a vital time.’

Ferrera held up his hands. ‘Please, Tara, I’m not trying to twist you to my own ends. I don’t need a vacation because I’m not on the edge of a nervous breakdown.’

Tara sipped at her coffee and then said, ‘I can’t take a holiday. I haven’t sorted out our distributor yet.’

‘Ah yes, well, that’s what I was going to discuss with you yesterday, actually. I’ve got a proposition for you.’ Richard sat back in his chair and smiled at her. ‘I’d
like
to suggest that Ferrera Fine Brands becomes your US licensee and distributor.’

Tara blinked with surprise. It was almost too much to take in. One moment he was telling her to take a holiday and the next he was discussing high-level business propositions.

He looked concerned. ‘I’m sorry … I’m rushing you. I should have waited until you were more yourself. It’s just that I’m so excited about the potential for both of us …’

Tara frowned as his words sank in. ‘No, no, I can handle it. But … why?’

‘I can see what you’re thinking. You think I’m trying to buy the company sneakily. Believe me, I’m not. I realise you’re not going to sell. Ideally, I want to own all the brands I possibly can, but if I can’t, then it still makes good business sense to consider other opportunities. I know a lot about what you’re doing with
Tea Rose
and I think it sounds fantastic. I believe you’re going to have a hit on your hands and I want to be a part of it, if I can. Money is money, Tara.’

Tara hardly knew what to say. Could this really be the answer to their problems? It couldn’t be that simple, could it? Then she remembered exactly why it was impossible. ‘We can’t work with you –’ she began.

‘I know what you’re going to say. Jecca.’ Ferrera stood up. ‘You think that’s a reason we can’t work together. I’m going to convince you that it’s a reason why we can. All you have to do is listen.’

‘I don’t know …’ Tara wanted to be convinced. She wanted to believe that Richard Ferrera was the man
he
seemed to be: upright, honest, truthful. She’d enjoyed her evening with him and been touched by his passion and the story of his childhood. He’d looked after her over this last strange day, when everything had crumbled down on top of her. But was she being played for a fool? Was he leading her on, just as, by his own admission, he was leading Jecca on? How could she trust him?

‘I can guess what you’re thinking,’ he said. ‘I want you to come for a walk with me, OK? Will you do that? I promise you’ll know what to think at the end of it.’

They walked through Central Park together. It felt like a day off. Richard was still in his T-shirt and jeans, and he loaned Tara a Calvin Klein sweatshirt and a pair of Armani linen trousers. When she’d belted in the waist and turned up the legs, they looked like sloppy boyfriend wear, a fashion she hadn’t tried before but which she rather liked. Thank goodness she’d worn ballet pumps the day before, they fitted well with her new casual style.

‘Hey, you look great!’ Richard had exclaimed appreciatively when he saw her. ‘I’ve seen you as the belle of the ball and as the smart businesswoman but you know what? I think I like this Tara best.’

‘Thank you!’ she said, doing a twirl for him.

They grinned at each other for a moment, then the moment turned infinitesimally awkward and they dropped their gaze. In the cool fresh air of the park, their harmony was restored and they talked and laughed as they walked.

‘Tell me about your kids,’ Richard said. Tara had phoned home as soon as Robina and the children were up, to make sure everyone was fine, to send them her love and tell them she would see them later.

Tara had been missing them horribly and didn’t need any excuse to start chattering away about how sweet and clever Edward and Imogen were, how full of fun and how endlessly fascinating. ‘Well, they’re fascinating to me, I suppose!’ she said at last, a little embarrassed at how she’d gone on.

‘You sound like you’re a really great mom,’ Richard said, smiling. ‘Is there anything you can’t do?’

‘Well …’ Tara tried to shrug away the compliment.

‘I mean it. Look at you – you’re a wildly successful businesswoman. You may have come from a privileged background but you can’t buy the smarts and the dedication that you’ve got. You’ve got two beautiful kids you clearly adore and who sound like they’re being raised brilliantly. And now you’ve turned your hand to the perfume industry, and it looks like you’re going to make a success of that too.’

‘Don’t speak too soon, for God’s sake!’ Tara said hastily, terrified of being jinxed. Perhaps Richard was right – perhaps she ought to focus in on the things she did right for once, instead of her failures. The thought seemed to light a tiny flame inside her, one that started to banish the darkness that had engulfed her the day before. No matter how bad things got, she still had her children. They needed her and she had to be strong for them. And she still had herself: her experience, her nous and her will to succeed.

‘And you’re very beautiful too,’ Richard added softly.

Tara felt her face flame.

‘Hey, I don’t mean to embarrass you!’ he said quickly. ‘And I don’t mean it in a creepy way. I just wanted to say it, because you are and sometimes it looks like you have no idea that you are and you need someone to tell you. That’s all.’ He stared at the ground as they walked, then looked up with a grin. ‘Do you want some ice cream?’

They bought huge Italian ice creams and ate them wandering along the park’s winding, green-lined paths, chatting about anything that came to mind except for business and the woman whose shadow seemed to come between them.

Tara had just begun to wonder where they were heading, when Richard took one of the routes out of the park and led her down a few blocks to a smart apartment building. He rang the bell to one of the apartments and they were buzzed up immediately. They took the lift to the sixty-eighth floor and then walked along to the corridor to Apartment 6820. Ferrera knocked on the door and it was opened almost at once by a petite Latina-looking woman with perfect, tanned skin, long glossy dark hair and enormous brown doe eyes. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a tiny T-shirt that showed off her impossibly perky breasts.

‘Hi, hi,’ she said brightly. ‘Come in. You must be Tara. Hi, Richard, honey’ – she leaned forward to kiss Ferrera on the cheek – ‘great to see you.’

‘Hey, Mia.’ Richard sauntered in to the apartment
after
the beautiful woman. Tara followed on behind, wondering what on earth was happening.

‘How are things?’ Mia asked as they walked into a sumptuous sitting room with a breathtaking view of Central Park. ‘Everything OK?’

‘Yeah, fine,’ Richard replied.

‘How’s your mom?’ Mia asked.

‘She’s doing great.’

‘Good. Give her my love, will you? And tell her I’m gonna see her real soon.’

‘Tara.’ Richard turned to her. ‘Mia is my ex-wife. I wanted you to meet her, so you could maybe put some of your doubts to rest. Mia, if it’s OK with you, I’m going to leave Tara here with you for a while, just to have a chat.’

‘Yeah, great!’ Mia said brightly. ‘Can I get you some ice water, Tara?’

Tara sat down on the sofa, feeling bewildered, as Mia rushed about getting her a drink and making sure she was comfortable. This wasn’t the scenario she had got from Vince Fowler at all – where was the downtrodden, cheated ex-wife, surviving on little more than a few measly dollars? This apartment and those breasts didn’t come cheap, that was for sure.

‘Richard tells me you guys are thinking of going into business together,’ Mia said, returning from her kitchen with some water for Tara and then sitting opposite her on the sofa, one slim leg tucked up under her tiny bottom. ‘But apparently you’ve heard some stories about his shady dealings.’ Mia rolled her eyes to heaven. ‘I just don’t know why people want to say this
stuff
about him. He’s the most honest guy I know and yet they’re always trying to bring him down, you know? The latest rumours are all about me, apparently. Richard said you’ve heard some of them.’

Tara nodded. She couldn’t help warming to this pretty woman who seemed so open and welcoming.

Mia laughed. ‘Man, the things they say! We’re supposed to have had one of the bitterest divorces in history, with plenty of dirty tricks on both sides. I don’t even know the half of the rumours, but I do know that apparently Richard squashed me like a fly and left me broken and ruined for daring to cross him.’ She shook her head, incredulous. ‘They just don’t know this guy. The worst you can say about him is that he is intensely private. That’s why he won’t hit back about these things, and he could if he wanted. I’m very comfortable. I’ve got no complaints about the way I was treated – we worked it out between the two of us as far as we could before the lawyers were brought in.’ Mia held up a hand. ‘Now, I’m not saying he’s perfect, no way. He’s dedicated to success and he’s not above playing a tough game when he has to. But show me the self-made multimillionaire businessman who isn’t!’

Tara’s head was in a whirl. Could she trust this woman’s word? Her gut feeling told her that Mia Ferrera was genuine. After all, how on earth could Richard have set this one up? And she knew enough divorced couples to know how rare an amicable divorce really was. Could she say these kind and generous things about Gerald? She absolutely could not. ‘So … why did you break up?’

Mia’s eyes saddened for a moment. ‘I guess we just weren’t right for each other in the end. There were no hard feelings. But it turned out that we shouldn’t have got married. I’m just glad we realised that before kids were involved, you know?’ Then the woman leaned forward again, her expression serious. ‘All I’m saying is, if you want a business partner, you could do a lot worse than Richard.’ She stared at Tara for a few moments and then smiled, revealing expensive white veneers. ‘And I guess you guys are an item too, huh?’

‘No, no, no …’ stuttered Tara, embarrassed. ‘We’re not.’

‘Oh, OK.’ Mia nodded. ‘Well, honey, you’re the first woman he’s ever brought to meet me. My guess is, he wants you to like him. Your opinion must really matter to him.’ She smiled again. ‘And you should go for it. He’s a great guy.’

53

POPPY OPENED THE
door of her flat. Gideon, as she was beginning to learn to call him, was standing on the step outside. He had dropped his old-English-gent dressing now that he no longer had to assume the identity of George Fellowes, and he was wearing jeans and a white linen shirt. It still made her heart turn over to see him, though.

‘So?’ she said frostily.

He smiled at her shyly. ‘Can I come in?’

She hesitated for a moment, and then stood back to allow him into her flat. He went in and stood by the fireplace, too unsure of his welcome to sit down.

‘So how did it go?’ she asked.

He fished into his pocket and withdrew an envelope. ‘Success,’ he said proudly, and held it out to her.

She took it, holding it carefully and feeling the small, hard bump inside. ‘And you managed the swap?’

Gideon nodded, grinning. ‘Yep. It wasn’t easy. You
can
thank the two seasons I spent working as a conjurer’s assistant in Blackpool.’

Poppy looked back at him, her eyes bright, smiling at him for the first time since she’d learned the truth about him. ‘At least it was good for something.’

They stared at each other for a moment, then Gideon said slowly, ‘Poppy, I’ve done what you wanted. Does this mean …’

She looked away at once, reddening. ‘Don’t say it. It’s too soon. Far too soon.’

He walked over to her and took one of her hands, his eyes imploring. ‘Please, please … I’ve tried to explain to you. There’s nothing more I can say about that. I’m horribly ashamed of the way we met and the lies I told and so desperately sorry. But it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. And I thought you loved me too. Did you?’

Poppy wanted to snatch her hand away and yet, she couldn’t resist the feeling of his large warm hand holding hers. It made her yearn for him to take her in his arms and bring his mouth to her mouth. She almost quivered with the desire that suddenly shot through her, burning a hot trail through her stomach and into her groin. But how could she? After the terrible things he had done?