B004D4Y20I EBOK (63 page)

‘She wasn’t?’ Jemima said, wide-eyed with surprise. The three sisters glanced at each other, astonishment on their faces. They had grown up believing that Jecca was their adopted sister.

Ferrera shook his head. ‘Now, that’s one thing she did tell me. She tried to make the old man do it but his wife, your mother, wouldn’t sign the papers. She wanted my advice about how easy it was to forge official papers. I told her it was difficult and not the kind of thing I could help her with.’

‘So that’s why she’s suddenly claimed she’s Daddy’s
natural
daughter,’ breathed Jemima. ‘Her case for a share of the company is much weaker if she was never legally adopted as a Trevellyan.’ She whistled lightly. ‘Good old Mother. I never thought I’d say
that
.’

‘But when we talked about your visit to Alice, you said that she thinks it very likely Jecca
is
Daddy’s daughter,’ Tara said gravely.

‘That’s what Jecca must be banking on,’ answered Jemima. ‘She must think that she’s got witnesses to back up her claim.’

‘But surely a DNA test would solve it easily,’ Tara commented. ‘It would say definitively one way or the other, wouldn’t it?’

‘If she has any doubts, she could refuse to have one, I suppose, although it would weaken her case.’

Tara clenched her fist. ‘That must be why she stole the locket from Mummy’s dressing table. She must have done it when she visited that last time. It’s got her hair inside, which we could have tested ourselves to find out whether she was related to us or not.’

‘So she stole the locket to stop us doing that. But more to the point,’ added Jemima, ‘she can use
our
hair to fake a DNA result if she isn’t Daddy’s daughter. She could use our sample instead of hers.’

Tara went pale. ‘Oh my God, you’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. Christ! I can’t believe she managed to steal that locket.’

Poppy reached her hand inside her handbag and drew out an envelope. From it she removed a slim silver chain, at the end of it a smooth oval pendant with a swan engraved on the front. She placed it on
the
table and pushed it into the middle so that they could all see it.

‘Do you mean this locket?’ she asked innocently.

‘Yes?’ Jecca said tersely as she opened the door. She was feeling bothered, and the last thing she wanted was unexpected visitors.

Richard had got back from New York yesterday and yet he still hadn’t been home to the apartment. His assistant had said he’d decided to stay at a hotel in town for business reasons but wouldn’t say which hotel it was. Jecca was beginning to sense that things were slipping out of her control. She’d been so obsessed with her Trevellyan battle that she hadn’t paid much attention to Richard lately but now she thought about it, he hadn’t spent one night in the same place as her for weeks. She hadn’t cared, so long as he was still playing his part in her plans. She had been confident that any time she chose, he would come running back. How could he resist her, after all?

Now she suddenly wasn’t so sure. And the more she thought about it, the more signs she saw that all was not right. Her access to the FFB intranet had been denied that morning – a glitch, she’d thought. She’d had no company emails for weeks. And Richard had not been in touch for some time. In fact, for months now she had been the one doing all the chasing, so …

Just as these thoughts were running round her head, there had been the knock at the door. She opened it to see two burly security guards standing there. ‘Yes? What do you want?’ she demanded.

‘We’re here to help you leave, miss,’ said one. ‘Could you gather any personal possessions – clothing and toiletries only, I’m afraid – and be ready to go in five minutes.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Jecca was stunned.

‘You heard him, miss,’ said the other one in a deep growl rich with testosterone. ‘Five minutes and you’re out of here.’

Jecca folded her arms and smiled sarcastically. ‘I don’t think so.’

The guards looked at each other, clearly relishing her refusal. That was the way they liked it.

Five minutes later, Jecca was screaming and swearing, her cries echoing down the stairwell as the two guards herded her out of the building as gently as they could, considering her efforts to pummel them both.

‘You shits, you fucking meatheaded fuckheads! You can’t do this to me! Don’t you know who I am? I’m calling Richard right now and he’s going to have you fired! But before he fires you, he’s going to have you fucking skinned alive, you idiots! Give me back my phone and I’ll call him.’

‘Sorry, miss,’ said the bigger muscle mountain in his deep voice. ‘The phone is company property.’

‘Arrgh,’ screamed Jecca with frustration. ‘Just give me back my phone and my computer, please! Come on, guys! At least let me back in to get my clothes!’

‘You had five minutes, miss. You chose not to collect your things as we advised you,’ replied the first one,
pushing
her into the lobby. Jecca had used her time to try and call Richard or his assistant but with no success. She simply could not believe this was happening.

She changed tack suddenly, and stopped her ranting. Instead she cocked her head seductively and purred, ‘I’ll make it worth your while …’

The guards exchanged amused looks. ‘Nice offer, miss, but it’s more than our jobs are worth. I’m sure you understand.’

Jecca’s face transformed again, back to looking like a furious little demon with eyes spitting rage. ‘Fuck you, then, motherfuckers!’ She stormed out ahead of them, down the stairs and into the lobby.

That bastard Ferrera has totally fucked me over!
she thought, fury coursing through her.
What a shit. I can’t believe it. Those bitches must have got to him in the end. I wonder which one it was. Jemima, I expect, arrogant whore. I don’t care. I still have my secret weapon
. She smiled to herself and put her hand to the locket at her throat. She lifted up the smooth case and looked at it. She frowned. It was the same size, shape and colour as her locket but it seemed different. Her locket had the delicate engraving of a swan on its surface. This had none. Panic rushed through her as she snapped it open. She gasped. The twist of hair, with its four different coloured strands plaited together, was nowhere to be seen. There was only a small slip of folded paper. She picked it up with shaking fingers and opened it. Two words were written in bold black letters on the tiny scrap: HA HA.

The residents of Flat 4, a retired banker and his wife who devoted herself to charity work, were coming back in after a quiet afternoon drink at the Dog and Duck across the square, and were astonished to see, in their usually tranquil lobby, a striking young woman with olive skin, dark eyes and long black hair throw herself to the floor, kicking, screaming and shouting incoherently, for all the world like a spoiled five-year-old denied her favourite toy.

‘Oh dear, she doesn’t look too chipper,’ remarked the banker to his wife.

‘No, she doesn’t. I wonder what’s wrong?’ answered his wife, worriedly observing the young woman’s tantrum. ‘Do we think we ought to ask her?’

‘I wouldn’t, dear,’ muttered her husband. ‘She looks like she might bite.’

They walked calmly on together.

55

THE SHOP WAS
thronging with beautiful people. Jemima had raided her address book and brought along the cream of high society. Stunning young girls clutched champagne flutes and posed nonchalantly in their designer dresses as they talked to shabby chic young fops and slightly paunchy businessmen. Actors, writers, musicians, hedge fund managers, designers, chief executives, glamorous housewives – they were all there, celebrating the launch of
Tea Rose
. On the pavement outside, paparazzi photographers snapped away as famous guests drifted in and out.

Even Harry was there, smartly turned out in a jacket and tie, looking on proudly as his beautiful wife, stunning in a Marchesa beaded chiffon gown, welcomed everyone into the party. The shop looked fabulous, with giant glass vases holding great bunches of cool white hydrangea. The Trevellyan products, in their smart new livery, looked hugely tempting on their glass shelves, and people were happily sniffing at the
tester
bottles and trying on all the different fragrances. On the main table in the middle of the room was the display of
Tea Rose
, an angular pyramid of nude-pink boxes, surrounded by chunky
Tea Rose
candles and topped with an over-sized bottle of the brand new scent. It looked gorgeous and utterly desirable.

On a television screen at the back, the film advertisement played on a loop, in between documentary footage of its creation. Every few minutes the camera would focus on Neave’s lovely face as she held a bottle of
Tea Rose
and sighed, ‘The essence of everything I love …’

There were so many people at the party that it had spilled upstairs, where the offices and boardroom had been prepared, with another bar, tables loaded with sushi and more
Tea Rose
displays, and the door to the roof terrace had been opened for smokers.

Harry went to find his wife. He wrapped his arms round her. ‘This is a triumph,’ he murmured into her ear.

She turned round, beaming, and kissed him. ‘We couldn’t have wished for better. I’m glad we did it here and not somewhere anonymous. It feels like we’ve brought everyone home.’

‘I’m so proud of you.’

‘I’m so proud of
you
. You’ve been socialising more than I’ve ever seen you do before.’

Harry grinned. ‘Have to oil the wheels for you, darling. I’ve been talking to a very charming Russian girl, Dashya, and her nice friends.’

‘Yes, she bought my flat in Eaton Square. Her
girlfriends
all want to live in the same building.’ Jemima shook her head. ‘And they used to call
us
the heiresses. We had nothing on these girls. They are seriously rich.’

‘By the way,’ Harry nodded towards the door. ‘Someone wants to talk to you. A lawyer.’

‘Oh?’ Jemima looked around fearfully.

‘One of yours,’ Harry said, gesturing behind him. ‘He says he wants a quick word.’

Jemima saw Ali Tendulka hovering in the doorway, scanning the room.

‘OK, darling. I’ll be right back.’ She went over to Ali, weaving her way through the crowd. ‘Hello, Ali.’

‘Hi, Jemima. What a fantastic party. You must be delighted.’ Ali smiled at her.

‘I am. The television campaign is launching tonight and we’re going to be in stores around the world tomorrow morning. Advance orders are amazing. Ever since the campaign with Neave became known, it’s been a whirlwind. Macy’s in New York have reordered three times.’

‘I’m very happy for you. And there’s some icing for your cake as well. I’ve just had a notice from Jecca Farnese’s solicitors that their client will no longer be pursuing her claim.’

Jemima’s face lit up. ‘Really?’ She clapped her hands. ‘Oh, that’s fantastic. Thanks, Ali.’

‘You’re welcome. Whatever I can do to help.’ He grinned at her again. ‘I’m really happy at the way it’s all turned out. I mean that – about everything.’

‘Thanks,’ she said sincerely. ‘Me too.’

‘Are you happy?’ Tara asked Poppy, as they stood for a moment at the edge of the crowd, taking a breather from their hostess duties.

‘Oh yes! This is just amazing. It’s turned out even better than I could have dreamed.’ Poppy’s eyes were shining and she was high with enthusiasm. She looked beautiful in a vintage Valentino dress, sexy and black with silver edging.

‘We have you to thank for Neave,’ Tara said, putting her arm round her sister. ‘That’s what’s made all the difference.’

‘She’s such a nice girl. I really think we’re going to be friends. She’s done me a couple of big favours. Getting the low-down on Gideon was inspired.’

‘Oh yes.’ Tara raised her eyebrows. ‘I wondered what was going on with him. Are you two back together? Did he manage to win you over with his locket trick?’

Poppy laughed. ‘It was impressive, wasn’t it? I wish you could have seen your faces when I pulled the locket out of the envelope. He was pretty desperate to win my trust back. He had to tail Jecca for days and then call in some big favours in order to get near enough to her to switch the lockets. Just be thankful that there are out-of-work actors slaving away in restaurants, hair-dressing salons and department stores all over town. Gideon got to her when she was at her beauty spa, enjoying a facial and massage.’

‘But how did he swap the things without her noticing?’

‘He used to work with a magician in Blackpool. One
of
his jobs was removing watches, wallets and jewellery from the audience without them noticing so that they could be used later in the tricks.’ Poppy grinned. ‘He’s a real little pickpocket, as it turns out.’

‘Well, well.’ Tara laughed. ‘I’d like to have seen Jecca’s face when she realised she had the wrong locket.’

‘She’s gone very quiet, hasn’t she?’

Tara nodded. She looked fantastically chic in a Ben de Lisi cocktail dress in black jersey, the straps broken by silver hoops just below the shoulder. Her dark hair was pulled back into a glossy bun and thick silver hoops dangled from her ears. ‘Richard tells me she’s out of his life and his company. When he heard the horrible claims she was making about Daddy, he felt he couldn’t have her around for a moment longer. He’d been about to cut her loose anyway. This just hurried it along.’

‘I want to hear more about
Richard
,’ Poppy said meaningfully but just then, Gideon came into the shop, looking extremely smart in a Paul Smith purple velvet jacket, shirt and jeans. ‘I’d better go say hi, but don’t think I’m going to forget that I want to find out exactly what’s happening!’

She went up to Gideon and kissed his cheek. He looked adorably boyish and very British, his hair freshly trimmed and his shoes polished. ‘Hello.’

‘This looks fantastic, Poppy. Have you seen the scrum out there?’ Gideon gestured towards the shop front, where there was a large crowd of press and onlookers.

‘Neave’s coming soon. It’s for her really,’ Poppy said.