Page 11 of The Sisters
Leon had told her that her body was her best asset, as her face was too strong. Toned from years of riding, she had strong, lean thighs and firm arms. Her breasts were small but high and her stomach almost rippled with muscles. She turned on the water and stepped in. Closing her eyes, she let the water run over her until she was startled by John. She felt him hard against her back. He took the soap and started to rub her all over, working up a lather, running his hands over her breasts and between her thighs.
She leaned against him and then he bent her over and entered her from behind. She gasped as the water ran over them and she felt herself shudder with delight. He held her breasts as he moved in her and she put her hands up against the tiles. She felt John starting to come and arched her back to try to join him but there was nothing there. Too tired, she thought.
‘You close?’ John murmured in her ear, almost demanding.
Carlotta decided to fake it. After all, he had booked the suite and left his house to be here for her tonight. As he came and Carlotta faked her orgasm he washed them both off in the water and stepped out of the shower. ‘Better now?’ he asked smugly.
Carlotta smiled. ‘Much. Thanks.’
She washed her hair with the hotel Aveda shampoo and let the water wash over her. She dried herself to join John who was on the bed, watching the stock reports on Bloomberg.
She needed John’s patronage for the horse show she was planning. Leon refused when she rang and asked him, leaving his secretary to break the news to Carlotta. Her mother, while she wanted to help, had been distracted when Carlotta had brought it up the last time she had seen her.
Carlotta wanted the horse show to be the most spectacular ever seen on the East Coast, and the Berconi Luxe money would bring the quality and glamour needed to make the event a success. Carlotta had just done the budgets with her team and realised she was going to have to ask for more than she initially thought. She looked down at John’s cock lying listless and put her hand on it. Carlotta imagined herself and Amante on the front cover ofTown and Country, lauding the success of the horse show. That would show Leon, she thought, as she put her head down towards John’s lap. Take one for the team, Carlotta, she urged herself on as she sucked her way into John’s bank account.
*
Grace went back to her apartment, her sanctuary. A huge space – all exposed brick and high ceilings. The walls were hung with a mosaic hang, similar to the one that Dominique had up her stairwell. Although there were no Monets, there were some wonderful pieces, modern artists whose careers Grace was following, mixed with a few of the family ones her mother had given her.
Moroccan lamps hung over the industrial dining table with French café chairs and comfortable sofas on ethnic rugs and Louis IV chairs covered in simple beige linen. The long windows were covered with voile curtains and to the side was a large nickel plated store cabinet from the 19th century. It was filled with objects and curios that had interested Grace and amused her over the years at auctions.
Grace walked through the living room and, kicking off her Ferragamo pumps and undressing as she went, walked into her bedroom. Pulling open the large French oak armoire, she dragged out her most comfortable yoga pants and a white T-shirt from Pajaro. Padding to her kitchen, she uncorked a bottle of white wine and poured herself a glass.
Grace was the only daughter loyal to the family brand, Pajaro. Mostly for her mother’s sake. It had been Birdie’s idea and Birdie’s family money that started it until Leon took over. Like he did everything, she thought.
She checked her home phone messages; a few from Cranfields and one from Spencer, asking how she was and if she needed anything. Spencer knew that Grace was closest to Birdie, they were so similar and had much in common. Grace had done the best out of the girls so far. With a degree from Wellesley in Art History and French, she had managed to get the job at Cranfields without the help of her mother and had done well at the up and coming auction house. She loved it so much, being surrounded by history gave her a sense of comfort.
Birdie had encouraged her to consider opening her own gallery but Grace had baulked at the idea of being the head of anything. She liked being one of the team and Cranfields gave her that, preferring to stay in the stockrooms, cataloguing the items, finding their provenance and putting everything in order.
Grace stared at the phone, wondering who she could ring. Most nights she rang her mother, telling her about her day, the news in the art world and the new treasures she had found. Her mother was her best friend and confidante. Intensely private, Grace had a few friends from Wellesley but no one she could really confide in. She drained her wine and poured another glass, continuing her private ritual until she passed out on the sofa.
Waking the next morning with a crick in her neck and a hangover, Grace pulled herself off the sofa and checked her phone again. No messages. She padded into the kitchen, opened the freezer and found a bottle of vodka from the cocktail party she’d been planning to have since she bought the apartment three years ago. Opening it, she poured herself a neat glass, grabbed the bottle and went back to the sofa.
What a shit of a day, she thought and she turned up her phone in case the hospital called.
*
As Violetta left the hospital she looked down at her clothes. She thought for a brief moment, looked at her mobile phone and quickly dialled a number. ‘Hey, it’s me. Yeah Vi,’ she said, the name leaving a bad taste on her tongue. ‘About that party… Maybe for a little while… Who’s asking for me? Gigi? … Sure, see you soon,’ she said and hung up.
She wanted to go back to the hospital and sit with her Mother, and tell her everything, about how lost she was, how she felt so hopeless most days, how she wished she could be friends with her sisters, how she wished she could make her father proud, and most of all, how she wished she was loved. And how she wished her mother was loved by a man who didn’t hurt her.
But Cinderella would go to the ball after all, she thought, just for a little while. She had already said yes before the accident. If there was one thing Birdie had always taught her, it was to honour her commitments.
4
Carlotta was about to go to Pajaro to buy new clothes when Spencer rang.
‘Hey, Spencer,’ she said, as his name came up on caller ID.
‘Hello, Lotty.’
The sound of his voice was soothing.
‘Where are you?’ she asked as she let room service in.
‘I’m heading to the hospital. Are you there?’
‘No, I’m staying in a hotel.’ There was no way she’d ever tell anyone about John. ‘I was too tired to drive back last night.’
