Page 6 of In This Together

‘Fuck,’ Andrea whispered.

‘We’re two colleagues enjoying a celebratory drink, Andrea,’ Hunter reasoned.

‘With the blinds drawn?’

He picked up his suit jacket and drained what was left of his drink. ‘That, I admit, was unfortunate timing. I’m late so I’ll be seeing you. I’m proud of you, kiddo.’

She watched the door close behind him, waiting for it… Sure enough, the guilt came. She wished she could put an end to it. But he had become an addiction to her. She was always waiting for her next fix. And they both knew that if he was ahappilymarried man, he wouldn’t come to her. What they were doing was wrong, dirty but sensationally erotic. Just one more time, that was what she would promise herself after every romp.

But her promotion to CEO had brought with it a stark realisation… When she had first found out, she hadn’t wanted to tell her best friend and executive assistant, Hannah. Nor had she wanted to run to her sister, Sofia, and tell her how she’d been promoted two short years after ditching the family label. Shedefinitelyhadn’t wanted to tell Rosalie. No, the first thing she had wanted to do was celebrate her new role with Hunter.

That thought terrified her.

3

ROSALIE

‘I told him to go screw himself. Or her. But definitely not me.’

Rosalie bit out the words as she stomped her foot into a one-size-too-big Christian Louboutin shoe. She was a familiar face to the staff of the glamorous Upper East Side store. They were always willing to listen to her troubles in return for a swipe of her trusty Amex. They were Rosalie’s CBT.

‘Good for you,’ one of the staff said, whose name Rosalie really ought to remember just one time.

‘Amen,’ said another as she handed Rosalie a freshly topped-up glass of Laurent-Perrier.

The first woman, a petite blonde in a white shirt with silk neck scarf and a tight French braid, massaged Rosalie’s ankle and smoothed the skin of her foot that was exposed in the pointed shoe. ‘How does it feel?’

Rosalie smiled. ‘As painful as a divine shoe should feel.’ She assessed the way the crystal-encrusted heels looked with her royal-blue silk wrap dress. ‘I’m not sure about it with this outfit, though.’

‘Too much sparkle?’ the second woman asked.

Rosalie looked to her and told her, ‘A lady can never have too much sparkle. But let’s try that pretty leopard print – print is so in right now.’

As the women fussed around her, Rosalie sipped her champagne and picked up where she had left off – the break-up.

‘Do you know what he said to me? He said I’m not responsible enough for him. He said he wants someone lessfrivolous.Frivolous! Oh, and that he wants a woman who is capable of looking after him. Can you believe that?’

She lifted one foot out of the sparkling stiletto and slipped it into the leopard-print sandal, so that she had a different design on each foot. Pouting and adjusting her stance, she assessed the get-up.

‘You know, I cooked for him on more than one occasion. One time, I actually chopped things and made a sauce from scratch. Does that count for nothing?’

She turned her back on the mirror and looked across her shoulder at her reflection. ‘The heels of the leopard print are just so cute.’

‘How long were you seeing each other?’ the blonde woman asked.

‘Who? Oh, George and me? A while. Eight weeks, in fact!’ Rosalie sighed. ‘I just can’t decide.’ She took another sip of champagne. ‘Hell, I’ll just take them both. I deserve the endorphins, right, ladies?’

* * *

Pooped. Feet red and sore. Dehydrated. Rosalie settled herself and her shopping bags onto the padded sofa of her favourite Italian restaurant. She was anti-carb 99 per cent of the time but when it came to her one-quarter Italian heritage – Mommy’s side – she made an exception. Good al dente pasta, perhaps brightened with a little shaved truffle, was worth missing two meals either side. And that was exactly what she felt like today.

Mauricio, the owner of the restaurant, which was a gem, tucked away down a side street off Central Park, hip-swayed his way flamboyantly to her table.

‘Bella, you look as perfect as ever.’

Rosalie tried to look bashful but she knew she looked well. She had been on a juice diet since the break-up and her Dior dress hugged her slender frame perfectly, not to mention the salon blow-dry she had prescribed herself this morning, for medicinal purposes. She flicked her long brown waves across her shoulder as she thanked Mauricio.

‘Your daddy’s assistant called just a moment ago and said he would be a few minutes late. Perhaps some wine while you wait?’

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