I’m not about to mention my sister’s part in all of this. She’s going through enough without being vilified in the press. And besides, I’ve always known that’s not the whole story.
‘I was different, and not particularly happy to be different. I could have tried to change, but the truth is I never wanted to. I wanted to read and paint and be on my own. I was too sensitive, constantly in touch with my own shortcomings.’
‘Maybe that’s part of being creative.’
‘Maybe. For some people. But it leaves you vulnerable.’ And maybe I’m getting to it now. ‘I fell into a relationship, a while before this one.’ I motion to the triptych. ‘He made me feel special, but then it turned abusive. I ran away. And then there was another. It was dull. I kidded myself I was in love, but I wasn’t. I was just doing what my parents wanted me to do, blindly sleepwalking into oblivion. I wasn’t even painting. I should have got out of it, but I didn’t. He did me a favour in the end. He called it a day. So, it was one failure after another and when you’re weak, it’s difficult to break the cycle. I suppose that’s what I was blocking out. And part of me wanted to be punished for my own stupidity.’
‘So, this man here. Is he number one or number two?’
‘He came afterwards.’ I pause, tears welling in my eyes. ‘Like I said, he introduced me to pain. It started off with the rush, but he saw what I was doing. He knew I’d be addicted … for all the wrong reasons. He told me I didn’t deserve to be punished. I deserved to be loved.’
‘A happy ending?’
‘Not exactly.’ I give her a bitter smile. ‘We’re not together any more. But I’m stronger now, I think. I know where I’m going, what I’m doing with my life.’
I come to a halt. Mindy Summers stares at me, clearly noticing my distress.
‘Thank you.’ She switches off the recorder. ‘I’ve got enough.’
More than enough. For the first time in my life, I’ve opened up completely. And now I just want to curl up in a dark room. I feel a hand on my arm.
‘It’s time to go,’ Gordon tells me, helping me to my feet.
With guests politely ushered out of the way and photographs taken of me sitting in front of the triptych, trying to look deep and meaningful, Gordon makes our excuses and guides me and Lucy back outside to a waiting car. A short, silent journey and we’re back at the hotel, waiting for the lift in the lobby.
‘Did I get it wrong?’ I ask at last.
‘No, you got it absolutely right,’ he replies, his face brightening. ‘You were honest, a natural.’
‘I thought I’d done something wrong. You got us out of there pretty quickly.’
‘Job done. No need to hang around. Besides, I’d like a chat. I’m staying in the penthouse.’
‘Here?’
‘Sure.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’ve got a little something for you.’
His face is at it again, throwing out one expression after another before I can pin down exactly what’s going on.
‘I’m a bit tired.’
I manage a yawn. There’s no way I’m going up to the penthouse with Gordon. I may well be exhausted, but I can still spot a seduction in the making.
‘You’ll be fine when you see what I’ve got.’ He winks. ‘Just give me a few minutes to get things ready, then come on up. It’s important. Believe me. Goodnight, Lucy.’
He steps into the lift. The door slides shut and he’s gone.
‘Well, that’s me told,’ Lucy grizzles. ‘I’m not invited.’
‘And I’m not going up to the sodding penthouse.’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘He’s going to try it on.’
‘No, he’s not.’
‘He just winked at me.’
‘And? Just go up there and see what’s going on. It could be anything. He might have sold the triptych. He might have a commission for you. If it’s business, then great. If Gordon tries to get his wicked way, then you’re more than capable of knocking him back.’
The lift arrives again.
‘Alright,’ I mutter, stepping in and pressing the button for the top floor. ‘But I’m telling you now, I won’t be long.’
Chapter Nine
The lift opens onto an entrance hall. I thought our suite was amazing, but this is something else, the Art Deco theme at its simple and super-expensive best. I take in the marbled walls, a red leather chair, a side table topped with two massive urns, but it’s the doors leading through to the rest of the suite that really grab my attention. Slightly ajar, they’re fashioned from dark wood, adorned with straight symmetrical silver lines that fold in on themselves, creating a maze effect. I spend a moment or two admiring them, increasingly aware of music playing in the background, and more than slightly anxious that this is all part of a grand seduction plan. I glance back at the lift. The doors have already closed. I should really press the call button and beat a hasty retreat, but if Lucy’s right and Gordon’s doing nothing more than setting himself up as my patron, I need to give him the chance.
I edge toward the doors, nudge them open and sidle into a vast living area. Softly lit by table lamps, decorated in creams and browns and complete with the obligatory luxurious sofas and expensive tables, it’s an Art Deco dream. Although it’s getting late, the curtains remain open, framing a breathtaking view of Central Park in all its glory. Drawn straight to the window, I drop my
