‘For God’s sake, Amber,’ said Finn, in a voice which sounded like a broken plea. ‘Why do you have to make this so hard for me? Why did you have to look so damned gorgeous tonight?’
All Amber could see was that Finn’s eyes were riveted to the swell of her silk-covered breasts. She nodded in comprehension as an odd, kicking sense of disappointment stabbed through her. ‘Oh! I think I get it,’ she said slowly. ‘Clearly I’m nothing but a body to you these days. Someone who you still desire but no longer respect, although, now I come to think of it, you haven’t expressed much desire for me lately, have you, Finn? And there’s only one believable explanation as to why that might be—’
‘Hello, Finn!’ An attractively low voice broke into their conversation, and Amber and Finn both looked up to find Karolina’s mother, Birgitta, standing there—with her striking but sulky-looking daughter at her side.
Unable to stop herself, Amber glared at the two women, but especially at Birgitta. Couldn’t she see that they didn’t want to be interrupted? That they were having an intense conversation which most people with even a tiny bit of perception could tell was a private conversation?
With her sexy Swedish accent, Birgitta pronounced the word ‘Feen’. Pretty irresistible, judging from the smile on ‘Feen’s’ face—which was warmer than any smile he had given her so far this evening!
‘I’m told that you will be playing the piano later,’ said Birgitta prettily, as she flicked a strand of white-blonde hair back off her shoulder. ‘I cannot wait to hear it! I gather that you are a very talented man!’
Amber saw Finn tense up, and her eyes narrowed. He never suffered from nerves about playing. So why was he so jumpy? Because of the situation he found himself in, perhaps. She watched Birgitta smiling up at him with a look of sheer adoration.
And Finn didn’t look away ...
Amber’s heart pounded in her chest and she felt dizzy with a cloying, choking fear. She had been jealous of all the attention which Finn had paid to Birgitta, sure—but it had been his time she had coveted, nothing more. She had never imagined for a moment that there might be anything more in it than that. And yet... Birgitta was about thirty-five, just a little older than Finn, and no one cared about age differences like that any more—not these days. Surely ... surely...
Was that what he had been trying to tell her? Why his attitude had changed so remarkably these past weeks?
He seemed to remember that she was there. ‘Amber—you remember Birgitta, don’t you?’
‘How could I ever forget?’ Amber gave the ghost of a smile, but she knew she had to get away from them before she made a fool of herself in front of fifty New Year revellers. ‘Will you excuse me for a moment?’ she said hurriedly, and made her way through the guests, not daring to meet all the curious eyes which followed her. Wondering if her face showed her distress.
In the bathroom she realised that it did. She stood looking at her wild-eyed reflection in the mirror, at the way her chest heaved as she fought for breath and sanity. On one of the glass shelves stood her bottles of bath essence and body lotion. The perfumed bath oil which Ursula had bought as one of her Christmas presents.
And sitting sadly neglected by the empty bath were three plastic yellow ducks, bought as a joke present by Finn when she had first gone to work with him. She had treasured those cheap little ducks almost as much as the diamond ring he had put on her finger. Maybe more. With the ring had come nothing but trouble—and the niggling fear that getting engaged had been a huge mistake.
But she would never know unless she asked Finn.
The temptation to run away was overwhelming, but she fought it, and relief mingled with panic when she heard someone knocking at the bathroom door. She knew from the authoritative thumping just who it was, even before she heard Finn’s voice call out her name.
She flung the door open and looked at him.
‘Amber.’ He spoke her name as if it was an ending.
‘Amber, what?’ Her voice was very low. ‘Amber, I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted? Amber, you mustn’t mind when I foist so much attention on the beautiful mother of one of my models?’
‘You’re making this very difficult for me, you know,’ he said softly.
‘What’s difficult? If you don’t love me any more, Finn, then all you have to do is come out and tell me.’
‘And what if I told you that it isn’t that easy?’
She froze. She had been gambling on complete denial, not that uncomfortable expression on his face, as though he had some terrible secret...
‘Finn!’ called a voice from along the corridor, and Amber could have wept with frustration.
‘Dear heaven!’ she exclaimed. ‘Can’t we have a private conversation around here?’
‘Maybe if you hadn’t chosen not to turn up earlier, before the place was packed with people, then we might have been able to achieve it!’ he bit out.
‘And maybe if you hadn’t been so darned uncommunicative lately, then I wouldn’t have chosen so unwisely!’ she stormed back. ‘You couldn’t wait to pack me off to Ursula’s! You made it perfectly clear that you didn’t want my help. That this was your party! And you cut me out of it as surely as you’ve cut me out of every other section of your life just lately!’ She paused for breath, just as Finn’s accountant, Andy, appeared round the corner.
‘Oh, hell!’ He squirmed awkwardly. ‘From the expressions on your faces—seems like I’ve chosen a bad time.’
‘The worst possible,’ agreed Finn, with a half-smile. ‘But I’m sure that whatever you have to say won’t take long. What is it, Andy?’
‘Just that it’s getting on for midnight, and they’re all waiting for you to play.’
‘Make sure everyone has charged their glasses, and tell them I’ll be along in a moment,’ Finn promised.
‘Okay! Can do!’ said Andy, and beat a hasty retreat.
They watched him go in silence, and then Finn turned to look at her, his face full of regret, and of something else too—something which Amber wasn’t used to seeing there. Because, right then, he looked almost vulnerable. And, even in the midst of all her anger and confusion, Amber found herself wanting to comfort him, to put her arms around him and soothe the unhappiness from his face.
‘I’ve been trying to talk to you for days.’ He sighed. ‘Only the time never seems right.’
‘Or maybe you keep putting it off?’ she guessed.
‘Yeah, maybe I do—you’re too perceptive,’ he observed, but the gentle mockery didn’t quite ring true.
Her anger evaporated as she found herself reaching up to touch his face, and the caress of her fingers on his skin felt somehow alien to her. She quickly realised why. It had been so long since she had touched him.
‘Something’s wrong, Finn,’ she whispered. ‘Something has been wrong for days now, and I don’t know what it is and, unless you tell me, then we can’t work it out.’ She heard the familiar opening chord of that year’s best-selling Christmas record, and could have screamed with frustration. ‘But now is clearly not the right time. So let’s go into the party and we’ll pretend we’re a happy couple. You play your piece, and then we’ll see the New Year in, just like we always do. And afterwards, when everyone has gone, then we’ll sit down and sort it out, whatever it is.’
‘God, you’re so sure of yourself, Amber.’ His eyes flicked over her with admiration. ‘So certain that everything can be patched up and made perfect, aren’t you?’
‘Not perfect,’ she told him quietly, her eyes searching his face for clues, but it gave nothing away. ‘Because nothing ever is. But something better than what we’ve had just lately.’
‘That shouldn’t be too difficult,’ he mocked.
She sucked in an agonised breath, knowing that she was gambling every bit of pride she possessed with her next statement. But what was pride if it meant a lifetime without the man she wanted? ‘I love you, Finn,’ she told him simply. ‘I always have done—and that’s the bottom
line. But if you don’t feel the same way about me any more, then all you have to do is tell me. And I’ll go. Because I can cope with anything you throw at me.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Except that.’
‘Finn!’ called out an impatient voice from the sitting room.
He looked down into her upturned face and she was shocked at the tension lines which had deepened the grooves running down the side of his mouth. ‘I could tell them all to go to hell,’ he reflected, but for once his voice lacked conviction.
‘Humour them,’ she said urgently, alarmed at the passive acceptance in his voice, which was not like Finn at all... ‘Humour them until we’re alone.’
He seemed about to say something, but must have changed his mind because he briefly closed his eyes, then squared his shoulders and began to walk towards the sitting room like a man to his execution, with Amber at his side.
‘Hey, Finn!’ called someone. ‘Ready to boogie?’
But he didn’t answer, just walked through the waiting party-goers who parted to clear a path to the piano. Amber nodded and said hello to several people, though afterwards she didn’t have a clue whom she had spoken to. But then her attention was really all on Finn. She fixed a smile onto her lips as she watched him sit down, but thought how jerky his movements were as he positioned his legs beneath the piano.
Her smile didn’t slip for a moment, not even when Birgitta, in a sequin-bright dress, draped herself over the piano and stood gazing at him, starstruck. Meanwhile Karolina was looking bored and shovelling popcorn into her mouth, looking—for once—not a day older than her sixteen years.
Silence filled the room as Finn lifted his hands to begin, but seemed to hesitate. Amber frowned slightly as she saw his fingers tremble before clenching into whitened fists over the keyboard.
Then he suddenly rose to his feet, and very deliberately, almost unsteadily, he pulled Birgitta away from the piano and into his arms. Birgitta stared up at him, her pale eyes startled but compliant, her mouth pouting towards him in naked invitation. And that was when Finn started kissing her, to the shocked gasps of those watching.
Then the faces all turned as one towards Amber, and it was the last thing she saw—those curious eyes, those shocked and disbelieving expressions.
The image branded itself onto her mind like her very worst nightmare, before she turned on her heels and ran out of the flat just as fast as her feet would carry her.
CHAPTER NINE
TWO things happened in the week which followed Finn’s party. The first was the entirely predictable newspaper coverage of what had happened that night, and, since Amber was already feeling miserable and a fool, she was immune to its salacious content. But the second rocked the very foundations of her world.
After Finn’s very public kiss with Birgitta, Amber had run outside and caught a taxi straight to Ursula’s flat, where, once inside the door, she had collapsed and sobbed like a hunted animal.
Except that no one was hunting her. That much soon became clear by the silence which ticked on through the night into one of the most miserable dawns she could remember.
She could have disconnected the telephone, telling herself that she had no desire to speak to Finn, and that he would know exactly where she was staying. But she didn’t disconnect it—and then felt doubly stupid when it mocked her with its deafening silence.
She didn’t sleep a wink—she couldn’t—her mind was too busy torturing her with images of what must have happened after she had gone. Because kisses like that between two consenting adults had only one conclusion. Adults didn’t kiss and then say goodnight. Amber shuddered as she imagined Finn naked and coupled with Birgitta—his dark honeyed skin contrasting so magnificently against her icy, Nordic beauty as he drove his sweet, hard flesh into her...
Amber got up and staggered over to the sink to retch yet again, but her stomach was aching and empty.
She spent the following day in a daze, too disorientated to contemplate leaving the flat—and besides, it was a bank holiday. She couldn’t face seeing the carefree faces of people out enjoying themselves—she felt that her own unhappiness would blight other people’s enjoyment.
That evening, she took a hot bath and then drank two huge glasses of wine—and the combination of liquor and utter fatigue was enough to ensure that she spent the night dead to the world.
She awoke to the sound of the newspapers being delivered. Ursula always ordered two—a hefty broadsheet for ‘proper’ news, and one of the better tabloids just for fun.
With trembling fingers, Amber fumbled through the pages of the Daily View, until she had reached Janet Jenson’s notoriously popular gossip column. And there it was. In black and white. Newsprint made it real. And tacky.
FINN WON’T CATWALK DOWN THE AISLE!
Amber’s first irreverent thought was how much he would hate the headline—he loathed references to his former life as a male model! She read on.
Hunky Finn Fitzgerald, millionaire owner of London’s leading agency, Allure, has split with the lovely Amber O’Neil—just weeks after she gave an exclusive interview to Wow! magazine about their recent engagement!
Finn, who has been squiring the flame-haired Amber for almost two years, chose to end the relationship with a suitably dramatic flourish at his annual New Year’s party. He was last seen smooching on top of a grand piano, with the mother of sensational new Allure model, Karolina Lindberg.
Amber is not only engaged to Finn, she also works for him at Allure—so the New Year should see fireworks in their exclusive corner of London!
Screwing the newspaper up with a howl of disgust, Amber threw herself down on the sofa, and sobbed.
Two days later, she was sitting disconsolately stanng into space when she heard the sound of a key being turned in the front door and she looked up in alarm to see Ursula struggling over the doorstep, carrying a small suitcase and overnight bag.
Ursula dropped the bags as if they were stones. She didn’t look like herself at all—her normal rosy face was deathly pale and her mouth thin and unsmiling.
‘Oh, Amber,’ she moaned. ‘I’m so very sorry.’
Amber laid her head in her arms and burst into renewed tears.
Ursula let her cry, just bustled around the kitchen making tea and toast in her big-sister way, just as she had when they’d been teenagers and their mother had been so ill.
It wasn’t until she had pushed a steaming mug and a slice of hot buttered toast towards Amber that she said, in a voice raw with sorrow, ‘I couldn’t believe it when I read about it in the newspapers! And even then I still didn’t believe it!’
Amber sniffed. ‘I could hardly believe it myself—but I actually had to witness it!’
‘Of course.’ Ursula patted her sister’s arm, her face distorted with concern. ‘It must have been terrible for you.’
‘Terrible?’ Amber gave a hollow laugh. ‘I’ll say it was terrible—my whole world came crashing down around my ears!’
‘Well, it may not be as bad as you imagine,’ Ursula soothed. ‘There surely is some hope?’
Amber stared at her sister askance. ‘Do you really think I’d have him back after that?’
Ursula’s mouth briefly tightened. ‘I hope you don’t mean that, Amber.’
Amber’s eyes widened. ‘You aren’t serious?’
‘Of course I’m serious!’ said Ursula crossly. ‘I didn’t have you down for a coward, Amber O’Neil!’
‘Coward?’ It was a relief to feel something other than hurt and humiliation, and righteous anger flooded through Amber’s veins like a powerful drug. ‘If anyone’s the coward—it’s Finn! Why the hell didn’t he have the guts to tell me?’
‘Because he’s a big, strong, powerful man, and men like that find it difficult to—’
‘Tie themselves down to one woman?’ put in Amber caustically. ‘You mean they’re so big and powerful that they have to screw anything that moves!’
‘Amber O’Neil! I never thought I’d live to hear you
talk like that!’
‘Well, I feel like using bad language! It’s better than getting blind drunk or going round and smashing up his so-called luxury apartment—which are the other two options!’
‘Amber,’ said Ursula gently, ‘Finn’s a sick man.’
‘You’re telling me he’s sick!’
‘And he needs your support right now.’
Amber nearly fell off her chair. ‘You can’t mean that, Ursula,’ she said slowly.
‘Oh, but I do.’
‘Let me get this straight...’ Amber fixed her eyebrows together in a frown. ‘You expect me to welcome Finn back—even supposing he wanted to come—after he’s been unfaithful to me?’
Ursula almost dropped the teapot. She put it down on the tray with a shaking hand. ‘Finn’s been unfaithful?’ she queried incredulously. ‘To you?’
‘Well, of course he has! What do you think we’ve been talking about? Why do you think I’m still here—with eyes which look like pincushions? Finn and I split up on New Year’s Eve after he virtually made love to one of the models’ mothers all over the top of his grand piano!’
But her words did not have the effect on Ursula that she would have imagined. Instead, her sister looked even more worried. ‘You mean you haven’t heard?’
‘Heard what? Don’t tell me that they’ve rushed off and got married? I didn’t think she was even divorced!’
Ursula swallowed. She had once had to tell Amber that their mother was very sick; this now seemed almost as bad.
‘Amber, I want you to listen to me very carefully,’ she said, in a low voice. ‘Finn is very ill. Very ill indeed. He’s in hospital. He’s paralysed—’
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