Kiss Heaven Goodbye

'Well, we should think about getting rid of them.'

'How?'

Robert smiled.'It shouldn't be too difficult,' he said, walking over. He wrapped his hands around her waist, unzipping her skirt and letting the thin fabric fall to the floor. Sasha followed him into the bedroom, thinking that sometimes, business did come before pleasure.

40

February 1998




Nothing that Sasha Sinclair ever did was accidental. Every move was thought through, considered, the options examined and carefully weighed up. And in truth, that was how her affair with Robert Ashford had begun. She had wanted to expand into America and Robert could make that happen, so she had invited him to the premiere. It was a business arrangement, something they both could profit from. But then there had been the long meetings to discuss strategy over lunch, the innocent flirtation, the touching of fingers as they both reached for the wine. Their occasional lunch meetings became suppers; soon she didn't want to go home when they'd finished discussing net gearing ratios or whatever the subject had been.

The s.e.x, when it had finally happened, almost eighteen months after they had first renewed contact, had been on a weekend trip to view a shop Robert had in mind for Rivera. It had seemed like the perfectly logical conclusion not just to their months of professional liaison but to a decade of interest. Looking back, there had been a flirtation, a connection, at Angel Cay. What had Robert said on that final night on the island? 'You can do better than Miles.' It turned out he was right.

In the penthouse suite of the Ashford Canary Wharf hotel, Sasha sat on the bed in her white towelling robe, reading through a contract Robert had handed her. Connie Ashford thought her husband was in Texas for a meeting with the underperforming Ashford Houston hotel, while Sasha had left the Rivera office early telling Philip she had a Pilates lesson and ma.s.sage. He'd had no reason to question her.

'Are you sure LVMH won't buy us?' she said, looking up. After all, why shouldn't someone like the Louis Vuitton group be interested in them? Rivera was one of the hottest fashion labels in the industry; with seven stores, presence in all the prestigious department stores and a forty-million-pound turnover, it had become one of the favoured labels of the rich and famous.

Reclining at the end of the bed, Robert Ashford watched her, an amused smile on his lips.

'Don't run before you can walk,' he said. 'Rivera is barely out of the starting blocks. Right now you're too small.'

She swivelled off the bed in anger.'Why too small? LVMH bought Marc Jacobs when he was tiny.'

'Marc Jacobs had been established twelve years when LVMH acquired a stake in his label,' replied Robert smoothly. Not for the first time, he surprised her with his detailed industry knowledge.

'But I want to sell to someone prestigious,' said Sasha petulantly.

Robert laughed. 'What you want to do is to get rid of Ben, Philip and Miles,' he said. 'What you want to do is to dilute your own shareholding to raise capital and liquidise some of your a.s.sets. What you want is a supportive strategic partner who will let you stay creative director and invest money into the brand so we can finally branch out into accessories, scent, even more stores.'

'And who's that strategic partner? You?'

Robert shook his head. 'A private equity outfit.'

She walked over to the window, pursing her lips in thought. In front of her, the regenerated Docklands twinkled in the darkness the lights from offices and expensive flats like citrines sprinkled over a pad of black velvet. Although they were both stubborn and self-righteous, she respected Robert's opinion completely. He knew so much about everything. Dynamism oozed from every pore of his skin. He was the only man that had ever made her feel both valued and ... what was the word? Protected, Protected, that was it. She felt that nothing could go wrong when she was with him. He came up behind her, sliding his hands around her waist, untying her robe. that was it. She felt that nothing could go wrong when she was with him. He came up behind her, sliding his hands around her waist, untying her robe.

'You can conquer the world, you know that,' he said, stroking her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. 'I always thought that about you. You're strong and clever.' He kissed her neck. 'And you're not afraid to take risks.'

She moaned as his lips tickled her ear. 'Hey, I've got to read the contract,' she said.

'Later,' he said, slipping off her gown.

She looked at her naked reflection in the gla.s.s. She wondered if anyone could see them and the thought thrilled her. Sasha Sinclair and Robert Ashford atop Canary Wharf. Lovers, equals, like the king and queen of the world.

Still standing behind her, he slipped his hand between her thighs and curled his fingers into her warm, damp p.u.s.s.y. 'Come back to bed,' he said and she went willingly, already aroused. If she had first thought that s.e.x with an older man, a much older man, would be staid and routine, she had been mistaken. At fifty, Robert's body was in impeccable shape, but it wasn't his stamina or his experience that made it such a thrilling, erotic experience. Their love-making had an emotional connection and sensuality that she had never reached with Philip or anyone else.

'I've got you something,' he said as he lay back on the pillow afterwards. He reached over to his jacket and pulled out a slip of folded paper.

'What's that?' she asked.

'A cheque.'

'What for? Services rendered?' she said with a note of irritation.

'Open it.'

The cheque was for three quarters of a million pounds. She looked at him, her eyes wide.

'I believe that is what you need to exercise your option to purchase a certain shareholding in Ben Rivera.'

A certain shareholding, meaning Miles'. Although Miles was his son and an investor in Ben Rivera, Robert always avoided mentioning his name. In a few weeks' time, it would be four years since Miles had given her his initial investment in Rivera. Under their original agreement, she could buy back his stake and Sasha wanted to do it desperately.

'Is this a loan?' she asked, waggling the cheque at him.

'We'll see,' said Robert. 'The important thing is to simplify the company's shareholding structure as much as possible pre-sale. If you can get rid of him, it will make Rivera more appealing to buyers.'

She crawled over and kissed him on the lips. 'Thank you, Robert,' she said simply.

'My pleasure. I like you very much, Sasha Sinclair.'

s.h.i.t, that's progress, she smiled to herself. She had never pushed Robert about commitment, never fished for compliments what was the point? She knew there was unlikely to be any traditional permanent future between them. He was bound to Connie with golden handcuffs. And men like Robert rarely appreciated threats or demands.

'I like you too.'

He stretched over and touched her cheek. 'Listen, I've been thinking. Why don't we go and spend a week at Angel Cay?'

Sasha froze. She hadn't allowed herself to think about that place since her affair with Robert had first begun. She didn't want to think what his role had been in that whole mess.

'No. I don't think that would be a good idea,' she said, looking away.

'Why not?' he said, stroking her neck. 'We can swim, eat, or my personal favourite, just stay in bed.'

It did sound tempting, of course. After all, it was all so long ago, and what had they done wrong really? That boy Bradley had stolen a boat and got away, hadn't he? But still, she didn't want to go back there. What she had with Robert was starting to feel so precious, she didn't want to let anything break the spell. What if he had covered it up? What if he had been involved?

'Not Angel Cay. It's Connie's island,' she said quietly. 'We can go to any other private island in the world, but not Angel.'

'Since when have you been one to take the moral high ground? Besides, Connie won't ever know. I can say I'm in Sydney on business. '

She looked into his strong, intense gaze. There was nothing she'd like more than to spend a week on a sun-drenched private island with him right now. But she couldn't go back there. She couldn't.

'I just don't think it's a good idea, Robert. We're trying to sell the company. That's going to take up every second of my time. I can't be flying off to Angel Cay. I can't. Just leave it, OK?'

He looked at her, but she simply shook her head. As far as she was concerned, the matter was closed: she would never go back to Angel Cay. Never.Six weeks later, Sasha was feeling just as uncomfortable, but for very different reasons. She walked into Philip's living room to find the dining table set for two with a starched linen tablecloth, scented candles and a gleaming set of white bone china that Sasha had never seen before. Her heart sank. He'd obviously pushed the boat out and she could guess why. Philip had been bugging her to move in for six months, but so far she just had a small drawer of underwear, a few cosmetics and a toothbrush on the bathroom shelf.

'You said you didn't want to go out for supper,' said Philip. 'So I thought we could do something special at the flat.'

Sasha smiled thinly. She was too tired for Philip's unsubtle seduction techniques. The amount of sneaking around she'd been doing the s.n.a.t.c.hed meetings with Robert, the secret planning, the under-the-radar strategising it had all been exhausting. Besides, she'd come here for a reason and it was obvious it didn't fit in with Philip's plans.

'I said I didn't want to go for dinner because we have to talk business,' she said briskly.

'Will you relax, Sash?' he said, walking over to rub her shoulders.

She wanted to pull away, but she knew she mustn't. This wasn't Philip's fault; he was a nice guy. Sasha was fond of him and he had worked very hard for the company. But business was business. She went to sit down at the table to get away from him, propping her doc.u.ment folder next to her chair.

'You look all wound up,' said Philip, sitting opposite. 'Do you want to tell me about it?'

'I'm fine,' she said, avoiding his gaze.

'In which case, do you want wine or champagne?' he asked, turning to the ice bucket beside him.

'Are we celebrating?'

'We'll see,' said Philip, pulling a bottle of Krug out of the ice. Actually, he was looking particularly handsome tonight, she thought. Freshly shaved, hair well cut, a crisp white shirt that set off his olive skin and pale grey eyes. Why did he have to be so considerate, so good-looking? For so many women he would be the perfect man. She cursed silently, wishing this had been done at her place. Still, it could wait until after dinner, she told herself. What What's another half an hour?

In the end, Sasha could barely eat a thing. Philip had obviously spent ages on the food, but she could do nothing more than push her sea ba.s.s around the plate.

'More wine?' he asked when he had cleared her untouched dessert away.

'No, I'm driving,' she said. 'I want to get back to the apartment tonight.'

He looked offended. 'Why?'

'I've got things to do.'

'Well at least stay for coffee,' he said, going into the kitchen and coming back with a tray bearing a silver coffee pot and a box of Laduree macaroons.

'Gosh, where did you get these from?' The macaroons were her absolute favourites but the famous patisserie was in Paris. He just tapped the side of his nose mysteriously.

'Open the box,' he said, looking serious.

She pulled open the pale green lid. Surrounded by pale pink and sherbet-lemon macaroons was a small black velvet box.

Oh no, she thought, suddenly understanding what all this effort had been for.

'Take it out,' he urged.

'Phil ...' she said gently.

He came round the table and knelt down next to her, his face filled with hope.

'I love you, Sasha,' he said softly. 'I know you've been nervous about moving in with me, but commitment can be scary. The thing is, though, there's nothing to be frightened of. We're a team. We belong together.'

'Phil, I-'

'Sasha Sinclair,' he said, grasping her hands, 'will you marry me?'

She knew what she was supposed to do. She was supposed to shriek with delight and fall into his arms. She was supposed to say 'Yes, yes, yes!' She was supposed to feel like the happiest woman on earth. But Sasha rarely did what she was supposed to do. She bent down and picked up her leather doc.u.ment folder. Without saying a word, she unzipped it and pulled out a set of contracts.

'What's this?' he said, frowning.

'An offer has been made for the company,' she said coolly. 'A fifty-five-million-pound offer.'

Philip looked incredulous. 'Sasha, I am asking you to marry me and all you can talk about is the b.l.o.o.d.y business!'

'Hear me out, Phil. This is important.'

'And so is this!' he snapped. He stood up quickly, his face a scowl. 'Fine. You want to talk business? Then my first question is why is this the first I have heard about an offer for the company?'

'Because the approach came to me.'

'Oh yes,' he said sarcastically. 'As amba.s.sador for the brand?'

'Listen to me, Phil,' she said. 'Absolute Capital are one of the most exciting investment vehicles in London and they are interested in Rivera. This could be good for all of us.'

'All of us?' he said cynically. of us?' he said cynically.

She paused for a moment. 'Well, yes, they would want to bring in their own management team,' she said carefully.

'The COO would be Lucian Grey, a co-investor in the fund. He has considerable experience in the luxury sector. I've known him for years; he's a good man.'

'I'm sorry?' said Philip. 'You're saying he would replace me me?'

'Philip, you fell into this business. It was never what you really wanted.'

'I gave up my career for you, Sasha,' he said, banging his hand on the table. 'I gave up everything to help you build your dream and now you're selling me down the b.l.o.o.d.y river.'

'Philip, you have a six per cent shareholding,' she said tersely. 'This sale will make you a rich man.'

'It was never about the money,' he said. 'Don't you understand that? It was always about you.'

'Well I want this to happen,' replied Sasha.

Philip walked over to the window, looking out into the darkness, then turned back suddenly. 'You need a majority shareholder vote for a sale,' he said. 'You only have forty-five per cent. You need me to make this happen, don't you? Just like always. You've always needed me to push decisions through.'

She pitied the note of desperation in his voice.

'I'm speaking to Ben tomorrow,' she said.

'Ben's never going to allow the company to be taken from under him,' said Philip dismissively. 'You still need me.'

It was harsh, especially after what had just happened, but she had to say it.