Winner Takes All

by Katie Price

  ‘I try to stay out of it.’

  ‘We’ve seen footage from the fixed cameras in the living room. She’s a fiery one, that’s for sure.’

  ‘She doesn’t like posh girls. I think there’s a big chip on her shoulder about that. Her and Mackenzie have been at loggerheads. And Gabriella … though she’s difficult anyway.’ Charlotte felt bitchy for revealing as much.

  Jas gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Just keep going, you’re doing great. Any problems, come to me, okay? Any time you want to chat, rant, cry, you name it.’

  ‘Thanks, Jas, that’s good to know.’

  The following evening was the first proper and highly anticipated rose ceremony when Dylan would hand out flowers to the women he wanted to stay in the villa. As the recipient of the At First Sight rose, Charlotte was immune from leaving on this occasion, but still felt her stomach fluttering with nerves. The one unlucky contestant who did not get a rose would be on a plane back to England that very night. The atmosphere was tense. Charlotte figured that, with fifteen girls in a house, there was bound to be some clashing of personalities, and it was probably good TV. But no one wanted to be the first to leave.

  They were dressed to impress, of course. Charlotte wore a red pencil skirt with a loose, beaded red camisole, her hair in an elegant plait. They all met for champagne on the terrace. On a silver tray sat a bunch of red roses.

  From behind the cameras Monica asked the crowd for quiet as Dylan made his big entrance. Wearing a black suit and black shirt, his tanned skin freshly shaven, he looked extremely dapper. Every woman there was watching him, trying to make eye contact and smiling sweetly to try to get his attention.

  Dylan cleared his throat. ‘Ladies, thank you for coming this evening. You all look ravishing, I have to say.’ A few giggles from the girls. He had them eating out of his hand. He then smiled directly at Charlotte. She took a sip of champagne and tried not to react. She didn’t want to flatter his ego too much.

  ‘I’ve had a great week getting to know you all on group-dates,’ he continued. It’s been a lot of fun and I’m truly excited to have the chance to get to know some of you a lot better on our individual dates starting tomorrow. I wish you could all stay so I could get to know you a little better but, as you know, someone will be going home tonight. But I have some news … It won’t be just one of you. There are only twelve roses here. I am sending two women home tonight.’

  The women glanced at each other; some gasped in surprise. Charlotte wondered if the producers had planned this all along, decided it just now, or whether two women had somehow offended Dylan and the decision had come from him. Who would be the first to go? Was her place in jeopardy after all? Was it something she said or did on the hike? Was that why he smiled; was he just toying with her?

  ‘Charlotte, as we all know, you are immune tonight, so please make your way to this side of the room,’ said Dylan.

  Phew!

  Dylan picked up the first rose and waited a few dramatic moments before announcing the first name.

  ‘Mackenzie.’

  Dylan didn’t hear Alex mutter ‘slut’ as Mackenzie strutted up to him, but everyone else did.

  ‘Will you accept this rose?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course!’ she exclaimed, planting a kiss on his cheek and sashaying to the other side of the room to join Charlotte.

  Gabriella, Nysha, Kat, Georgia and Melody all made it through. Then it was time for Dylan to reveal the name of the first contestant he was sending home.

  ‘Fiona,’ he said with a sigh. That was one of the girls from Alex’s ‘side’. She was a twenty-one-year-old student, mouthy and quite immature, Charlotte had thought.

  ‘Fiona, I think you’re a very sweet girl,’ Dylan said, holding her hands. ‘But I’m a father, I have a toddler and I need to be with a woman who is really on board with that. I think maybe you have some growing up still to do. I’m sorry.’ Charlotte thought it was a considerate and heartfelt let-down.

  The other girls’ names were reeled off until just Alex and Jillian remained. Dylan finally handed the rose to Alex. ‘There’s a lot more I want to know about you,’ he smiled flirtatiously at her. Charlotte wondered whether he was saying all this purely for the cameras or was actually something of a player.

  Jillian, the glamour model from Surrey, looked devastated. She’d clearly hoped to stay till the bitter end, like they all did.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jillian. You’re very beautiful but I just don’t think we connected. I wish you all the best.’

  And that was it, thirteen girls remaining. Everyone said their goodbyes to Jillian and Fiona, who went upstairs to pack and go home. The rest trotted off for individual reaction-interviews for the cameras, but first Dylan had one more announcement to make.

  ‘And Charlotte? Make sure you get up extra early tomorrow as we’re going for a sunrise yoga class as our first alone-date. Goodnight, everyone!’

  Chapter 15

  Saturday night at Print Room was a glamorous affair. The bar was one of the hottest spots in London and a place on the weekend guest list was coveted. Richard scanned the room like a cheetah stalking its prey. He’d been called into work that morning to finalise a big deal and felt like celebrating afterwards with an indulgent lunch at Roka in Mayfair followed by some Dom Pérignon. He’d sloped off to a friend’s flat that he’d taken to visiting every so often. He didn’t like to use the word ‘hooker’ as it sounded so seedy. And besides, this girl – Frankie – was a total knockout and worth every penny. ‘High-class escort’ was a much more fitting description. They’d met at a big fundraising event where she’d been hired to be the date of a high-flying executive at a big City firm. Jas was there with Richard but he’d wasted no time in cornering Frankie and getting her number. They only hired the best girls for such functions. Frankie spoke four languages, had a Master’s degree in philosophy and a flat paid for by a married and seemingly scandal-free politician. So what if she wanted to earn more cash on the side? Richard had since become a regular visitor. It wasn’t that he couldn’t get laid easily, he just got off on the power aspect of making a woman do whatever he wanted in return for cash. And now that was out of his system he was ready for another drink and some more fun, so he rejoined his colleagues at Print Room. By the early evening, those colleagues returned home to their wives and kids, but Richard was far from calling it a night. By his calculations, there were at least three women to every man in the bar. Before his eyes stretched a sea of high heels and tight dresses. His bosses were right: he’d really benefit from keeping up the pretence of being happily married. It made everyone more comfortable knowing they had a stable and committed chap on their hands. Single men never got promotions in his firm. He’d figure out what to do about his marriage later – right now he wanted some fun.

  Freshly back from powdering his nose in the toilets, Richard propped himself up at the bar in the centre of the room, ordered a large Hendrick’s and tonic and surveyed the landscape. He caught the eye of a busty blonde in the corner and a redhead smiled at him coyly. He did a double take when the most stunning brunette sauntered by, catching the attention of every man in the room. The girl had long, wavy, glossy hair and the biggest blue eyes. Richard had the feeling he’d met her somewhere before. She greeted another fit girl, shorter but with beautiful mixed-race skin and wearing the sexiest tight dress. Hello, ladies! Richard hailed the bartender.

  ‘A bottle of Verve Clique, mate. In a bucket. Three glasses.’

  Richard downed his gin and tonic and stood up to carry his offering over to their table, when suddenly he was stopped dead in his tracks. The girls had been joined by a man now, who had his arm around the brunette. Richard noticed a giant rock on her engagement finger. Bollocks! Richard recognised the guy instantly and remembered where he knew the girl from. Connor Scott. And that was his girlfriend. Or fiancé now from the look of things. Connor was an old friend of Jas’s and Richard had met him a couple of times, though was so wasted at the time it was onl
y a vague recollection. Damn! Why were the fittest girls always taken? Now he was left with a bottle of champagne and three glasses, looking like an absolute twat. Not wanting Connor to spot him, Richard sloped off to the dining section of the club. No point in letting a good bottle of bubbly go to waste, he reasoned. Better make himself comfortable at a table and wait for a woman to join him.

  ‘Butler, is that you?’ Richard turned to see the grinning face of Greg Simpson, a fellow trader who used to work on his floor before joining a rival firm. ‘Maaaate!’

  ‘Simpers! Good to see you too, mate.’

  They two men hugged lightly, patting each other on the back as if in congratulation though neither of them knew for what.

  ‘Here alone, Butler?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, was just out with the boys after letting the ink dry on the Fitzrovia deal. Jones coughed up a bottle of Dom P before being summoned home by his wife and so left me high and dry!’

  ‘You landed the Fitzrovia deal?’ Greg shook Richard’s hand enthusiastically. ‘Mate, that’s impressive. You boys are cleaning up over there. The talk of the town.’

  Richard smiled smugly. He knew how well his company was doing in the current climate, especially since his own recent promotion. He was the golden boy in a team of golden men. Life was good.

  ‘Anyway, what are you doing here, Simpers?’

  Greg nodded to his table in the dining room and Richard had to stop himself staring. For who was sitting there other than Lila Whiteley, pretty as a picture, idly touching up her lipstick in a hand mirror.

  ‘I’m on a date. Our third, actually. She’s fucking fit but I think she’s losing interest. Still haven’t managed to close the deal with her, either.’ The two men laughed.

  Richard couldn’t help but stare. As Jas’s baby sister he had never taken Lila too seriously. But tonight she looked undeniably hot. The ratty, moth-eaten vest she often wore had been replaced with a very sexy white blouse. Her white-blonde hair was shorter than the last time he’d seen her, cut to just below her chin and showing off her excellent bone structure.

  ‘She’s my sister-in-law.’

  Greg looked aghast. ‘Maaaate. Sorry, no offence, I didn’t mean any disrespect. You’re still married? I thought I’d heard you two divorced?’

  Richard shook his head vehemently, then smiled slyly as a plan formed in his mind. ‘Rumours, son, rumours. And no offence taken. Lila will be bang up for it, trust me. Listen, Jones left me with this bottle, barely drunk, and three glasses, would you believe? Why don’t the three of us drink it? I’ll talk you up to Lila. She’ll listen to me.’

  Greg grinned at him. ‘Great idea, mate. Come on over and say hello.’

  Fortunately for Richard, Greg was too preoccupied with the delightful prospect of finally bedding Lila that he didn’t notice her look of contempt as he walked back to the table with their new guest.

  ‘You two know each other, I presume?’ But Richard had already sat down next to Lila and was pouring out three glasses of chilled champagne. ‘Silly me,’ continued Greg, ‘I got up to go to the toilet, bumped into this guy and clean forgot I had to pee. Be right back.’

  ‘See ya, mate!’ Richard answered cheerily, knowing Lila would wait until he was out of earshot before she started to lay it on. And, as predicted …

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  She looked even better when she was pissed off. ‘All right, little one? Long time, no see. Champagne?’

  ‘Why are you crashing my date?’

  ‘Are you honestly going to tell me that Greg is doing it for you? I could sense your boredom from across the room. He’s a nice guy but being in his company is about as exciting as watching paint dry. Where did you meet him anyway?’

  Lila sniffed. ‘On Tinder, if you must know. Where else do people meet these days?’

  ‘Oh, you know. Bars, work, fundraisers …’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Nothing. Here, have some champagne.’

  ‘Do you have any idea what my sister would say if she knew I was sitting here quaffing champagne with you?’

  ‘That she wished she was out having fun with us like she used to and that she should stop being such a buzz kill?’

  ‘Hey! Jas goes out all the time.’

  That was news to Richard. ‘Really? Where?’

  ‘Does it matter? And that’s not the point. She’s my sister and you’ve been a complete arse. Don’t you know she tells us everything?’

  Richard edged closer to Lila. He had lost count of the number of times Jas had moaned to him about how immature and irritating Lila was and that she needed to grow up. If he’d given it enough thought he might have felt sorry for Lila. Her parents blatantly spoilt her but no one actually took her seriously. Her desperation to be seen as an adult was so obvious to him.

  ‘Lila, you’re old enough and smart enough to know there are two sides to every messy break-up. Of course, Jasmine is going to paint me as the bad guy. You don’t know the half of it, okay?’

  It was that easy. Lila softened instantly. ‘I suppose … But I know you’ve cheated on her, Richard. We all know that.’

  Richard looked down at the floor and let out a dramatic sigh. This was getting to be quite fun. ‘Lila, if you knew how much I cared about your sister … Everyone makes mistakes. I’m not perfect. There’s a lot you don’t know and I bet Jasmine won’t ever tell you. She’s not squeaky clean either.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Look, Greg’s coming back to the table. I’ll explain another time, if you’ll let me. Let’s just have a drink now and relax a bit. I’m dying to hear what you’ve been up to all these months. And we can’t let this delicious bottle of champagne go to waste now, can we?’

  ‘Okay, Richard. But only one drink and don’t you dare breathe a word about this to Jas. She’d one hundred per cent go ape-shit if she found out I was fraternising with the enemy.’

  Richard patted her arm. ‘It will be our little secret.’

  Chapter 16

  Jas was getting ready for her first proper Ibiza night out. She’d found a manicurist that day and her nails were buffed, polished and painted a pale pink, which showed off her tanned hands and arms. She was starting to enjoy the way her hair looked when it dried naturally, having already gone even lighter in the sun and looking exceptionally full and healthy. It fell in soft curls over her chest. Monica insisted that Jas looked like Blake Lively when she wore her hair down. Tonight, Jas wore a silky, short, dusky pink kimono, low-cut with a sash belt. It was very sexy, so she kept her make-up look quite natural with highlighter, mascara, a touch of bronzer and a slick of nude lipgloss. She was just fastening the buckle on her chunky black sandals when her phone rang.

  Richard.

  ‘Is that really you?’ she said, answering the call.

  ‘Hey, Jazzy. Yeah, ’course it is. You haven’t deleted my number already, have you, babe?’

  So much for Jas’s good mood. Instantly she was furious that he was acting so friendly, as if everything between them was normal. She’d been trying to ring him for days to talk about the divorce and he’d failed to answer or ring her back. Be cool, she told herself. Just be cool.

  ‘Please don’t call me Jazzy. You know I hate that.’

  ‘I wanted to talk to you, Jazzy,’ he said, totally ignoring her last point. ‘Is this really what you want?’

  ‘Are you seriously asking me that? You honestly think I’d take you back now?’

  Richard sighed. ‘I don’t want a divorce, Jas. I really think that we can work through this.’

  Jas closed her eyes. It was too late for all this!

  ‘But, as I know that isn’t what you want,’ Richard continued, ‘I’ve got a proposition for you.’

  ‘Go on.’ This should be good, thought Jas suspiciously.

  ‘You know how frowned upon divorce is in my family. And at work. So I’m suggesting, for appearance’s sake, even if you don’t want me, we ditch the divorce anyway. You
keep the flat, I’ll stay in Moorgate. Lead your own life and I’ll lead mine. We just, you know, borrow each other for the big stuff. Weddings, work functions, that sort of thing. And I’ll pay the mortgage on your flat to sweeten the deal.’

  He really was desperate. Jas actually felt a flicker of pity for him. The prospect of a divorce must be seriously worrying him. But no amount of money in the world would be enough to keep Jas in an unhappy, open marriage. She didn’t see the point in having a row with Richard tonight, though, so decided to be civil.

  ‘That is a generous offer,’ she said. ‘I can’t accept it, though. I’ve told you, Richard, this divorce is going ahead. Either you can let it happen amicably or make me fight you, which will cost time and money and probably get ugly.’

  ‘You’re not even going to consider it?’ Clearly Richard had expected Jas to jump at his offer. He’d better think again.

  ‘No. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Fucking ridiculous! Do you know what I’ll do to you in court? Do you have any idea how long I could let this drag on for? I’ve got the money, sweetheart, don’t you worry about that. What’ve you got? Some poxy savings? It’s not like your parents are going to be any use from their hole in Manchester. Your dad is retired and your mum doesn’t even have a job.’ Jas didn’t bother to point out that Richard’s mother Celia had never worked a day in her life.

  She let him rant on, knowing that he was acting out because he wasn’t getting what he wanted, like a child. She refused to be drawn into a row, but his words stung and her eyes brimmed. Her parents might not have much money but they were loving, devoted, and would do anything for their daughters, unlike Celia and Harold Butler who had all the money in the world but never showed their son an ounce of affection. Jas remembered Richard confessing that his parents had never once told him they loved him. She had been speechless, wondering what that would do to someone’s self-esteem. It seemed he was beyond help and Jas was only more convinced that she wanted to divorce him as quickly as she could. She’d sell the flat and everything she owned if that’s what it took to pay the lawyers.