The Santiago Sisters

by Victoria Fox

  ‘Wow, look at this place,’ Tess said.

  ‘It makes me happy,’ Mia admitted. ‘I’ve gone a bit stir-crazy, to be honest, being miles from anything and drowning in this book. But it’s been good.’

  Back in the kitchen, Mia brought through a battered tin, prised the lid off and dipped a hand inside. The last time Tess had seen Mia turn her hand in the cookery department were the hefty slabs of buttered toast she had fixed for them both at Sainte-Marthe, to the disgust of their twig-thin dorm-mates.

  ‘I never knew you baked,’ Tess teased.

  ‘I’m trying.’

  ‘Go on, then, let’s have a taste of the masterpiece.’

  Mia produced the cake, which wasn’t quite a masterpiece, rather a toppling three-tiered mess slathered in pink icing and looking rather like the infected nipple they used to exclaim at on page 73 of Madame Labelle’s Science textbook; Tess felt a welcome twinge of relief because Mia would always be Mia, and she would always love her, and Mia was the one thing that would never change.

  ‘Delicious!’ said Tess, as Mia gave her a wry smile and cut into it.

  ‘How’s Steven?’ Mia asked.

  ‘Same as ever,’ Tess lied. ‘I’m relieved to be out of LA, though.’

  Mia nodded sympathetically. ‘I bet. Can you believe it about Simone?’

  ‘I kind of already knew.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Yeah. For a while.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

  Tess picked at the cake. ‘The crash changed the way I see a lot of things, Mia. Simone’s been good to me. She’s given me so much. I was never going to rag.’

  ‘You don’t seem that freaked.’ Mia wanted the gore. ‘He’s your stepbrother!’

  Tess lost her appetite and pushed the plate away, remembering Emily’s call after the news struck. It seemed she had got drunk, had a massive fall-out with Brian about his reluctance to support her acting career, had thrown a plant at him, then when that failed blurted out all she knew of Lysander and Simone’s liaison. Brian hadn’t believed it. Who would? Much as he made her skin creep, Tess felt sorry for him.

  ‘I know,’ she said bleakly.

  ‘It’s gross.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘Kind of kinky, though.’

  Tess flicked a cake crumb at her. ‘Don’t even go there.’

  All night the girls exchanged news. Tess told her the truth about Steven, and didn’t feel as bad as she might when Mia burst out laughing and a shower of tea exploded from her mouth. Last month the great Krakowski had declared himself a sex addict. Tess doubted he was disclosing the precise nature of his urges to the shrink—he certainly wasn’t to the press—and when Mia commented that Steven ought to get offered apple rings with his coffee instead of doughnuts, she gave in and got the giggles herself. If she didn’t laugh she would cry, and, besides, it was kind of funny.

  Things got serious when she confided about her affair.

  ‘Vittorio Da Strovisi is married,’ Mia said gravely. ‘By definition he’s an asshole. I don’t blame you for going elsewhere, but what about his wife?’

  ‘Scarlet doesn’t love him any more. It’s a marriage of convenience.’

  ‘Can you hear what a cliché you sound?’

  ‘That’s what he told me, and I believe him.’

  ‘And he’s promising to leave her, right?’

  ‘That’s what he says.’

  ‘And you’re the only one? No other women keeping his bed warm?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Because that’s what he said, right?’

  Tess stood her ground. As much as Mia’s words made sense, she chose not to hear them. What was she meant to do—sign on for a life of celibacy?

  ‘Mia, you should meet him,’ she said. ‘He’s the most amazing …’

  Mia rolled her eyes. ‘You don’t need to finish.’

  Tess knocked her arm. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘you must have had this before. Someone you can’t keep your hands off? Someone you can never stop thinking about?’ At Mia’s blush, she pounced. ‘There is someone! Who is it? Do I know him?’

  Mia had gone the colour of a beetroot. ‘Actually, you do.’

  ‘Who?’

  Mia waited a moment, then said quietly: ‘Alex.’

  ‘Alex?’ His name didn’t belong in this conversation; it seemed an anachronism, a credit card in a 1950s movie. ‘As in Alex Dalton?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Mia smiled shyly.

  ‘Oh.’ Tess didn’t know what to say.

  ‘He’s been up here a couple of times already. I didn’t know whether to tell you—I guess I didn’t want to jinx it. I mean I’m fully aware he’s way out of my league. I couldn’t believe when it happened once, let alone when it happened again …’

  ‘He’s not out of your league,’ objected Tess. ‘You’re out of his.’

  ‘Hardly!’

  ‘When did you … When did he …?’

  Why can’t I get the words out?

  ‘We got together in LA. It was over you, I suppose. We were both so worried when you were in hospital. After visiting hours, we went for dinner. It sort of seemed like … the natural thing. You know, drowning our sorrows and then one thing led to another … He’s so nice, Tess.’ She shook her head. ‘Alex is just so nice.’

  No, he wasn’t. He was an arrogant playboy who made her feel small.

  ‘Don’t you find him up himself?’

  ‘He’s lovely.’

  Tess could think of many words to describe Alex Dalton but lovely wasn’t one of them. She tried to get her head around it, and couldn’t.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Mia asked. ‘You’re cool with this?’

  ‘I guess I just never saw you together.’

  ‘Neither did I! He was always, like, the ultimate, wasn’t he? Do you remember how Emily and Fifi used to get about him? He’s so sexy,’ she said dreamily, ‘and clever, and kind …’ She bit her lip. ‘And rich! Not that that matters …’

  ‘As long as you’re happy,’ said Tess. Why did she sound so tight?

  ‘And he was always your friend. To be honest, before Steven, I thought you guys would get together for sure … We all did.’

  ‘All?’

  ‘Emily used to say so. Said Alex had it bad for you. Said he liked you so much he couldn’t even look at you.’

  ‘That’s nonsense.’

  Mia nodded. ‘Alex said so, too. Which is a relief!’

  Tess forced a smile.

  ‘He adores you, though,’ said Mia. ‘We both do. He thinks the world of you.’

  Because he feels sorry for me …

  ‘I am happy, Tess. Happier than I’ve ever been.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  Mia wore a naughty expression. ‘So … I’ve been dying to tell someone, and since you’ve shared about Vittorio … Alex is so hot in bed! My God, he’s, like, the best. I was so paranoid about all those supermodels he’s been with, but he told me he only dated them because he was trying to get over someone, and anyway he loves my curves and he says I have the dirtiest laugh. We have such fun together …’

  Tess tuned out. You don’t want to hear this. And she didn’t. She really didn’t.

  All the amazing sex she was having with Vittorio: that was what she should be focusing on. She splashed her friend with water.

  ‘Shut up,’ she said.

  Mia grinned. ‘OK, OK, I get it, TMI. You’re sure it’s not weirded you out?’

  ‘A bit,’ Tess admitted, and quashed her misgivings because a faint instinct told her they were not in Mia’s interests; they were in hers. ‘But I know what I want. Vittorio’s the man for me—just you watch.’

  Mia raised her mug for a toast.

  ‘To happy ever afters,’ she said.

  Tess took a mouthful, too much at once. It burned.

  36

  New York

  She should never have overheard the dialogue. Models gossiped—it was fuel for the dressing room,
the make-up chair, often the only sustenance that kept them going—and nine times out of ten its content should be taken with a bucket of salt.

  But on this occasion, she knew it was true. And that truth changed everything.

  Wednesday evening and Calida had just wrapped a shoot with Samantha Pringle, renowned clotheshorse and ex-member of the world’s biggest girl band. Accustomed to posing in a five-piece line-up, Samantha had been uneasy in isolation, so Calida had sourced four other beauties to stand alongside her. Afterwards, their star made a swift and glamorous getaway, while the others mingled, unhurried, in states of semi-undress. Calida was passing the wardrobe when she heard her sister’s name.

  ‘I’ve heard he’s banging Tess Geddes …’

  ‘No,’ one of them gasped, ‘really?’

  ‘Really. They hooked up at some party. Stella says it’s serious.’

  ‘Stella talks bullshit.’

  ‘Of course you’d say that. What’s your problem with her?’

  Calida stayed out of sight, her back against the wall. She held her breath.

  ‘What about Steven? I’d give half my ass to snag a husband like him.’

  ‘Only because your ass is insured for fifty thousand bucks.’

  ‘I’d sooner have Vittorio,’ put in the first.

  ‘Well, nobody else stands a chance if he’s sleeping with Tess.’

  There was a snort of derision. ‘Tess Geddes isn’t that hot.’

  ‘You just keep kidding yourself.’

  Calida’s heart thrummed. She could hear her breath, low and quick.

  ‘His wife’s not going to like it, that’s for sure,’ said a new voice.

  ‘She’ll never find out. She hasn’t so far.’

  ‘Yeah, but Tess is different. She’s a threat. Have you seen Scarlet lately? She’s like a shoelace. With eye bags.’

  A mean titter, then: ‘You’re a bitch.’

  ‘Don’t I know it, honey.’

  There followed a shuffle of bags being collected and jackets slipped on. Calida rounded the corner and watched as the models emerged. When the door swung shut behind them, her lungs expelled a whoosh of air and she sank down on to the floor.

  You’ve been with him, she thought. You’ve been with Vittorio.

  She felt as if she had been punched in the gut.

  Tess and Vitto. Vitto and Tess. Rage boiled through her like flames devouring a building. She couldn’t see. Could hardly breathe. It was too much to take in.

  Anger pealed out of her like clanging bells.

  And then the idea occurred, with the same clear ring as a note being struck. Suppose Tess knew he was sleeping with Calida? It would be Daniel all over again. Unwilling to accept defeat a decade ago, her twin had to exact one-upmanship now.

  You saw what I had—you knew what I had—and you took it.

  Fury paralysed her. Everything she despised about Tess Geddes came rushing at her like thickening, blackening thunderclouds. Only, where Calida would once have backed off, content to let her beautiful sister claim what was hers, this time she would not. She could not. Vitto was the prize, and only one of them could have him.

  You want a fight? Calida thought, setting her jaw. Fine. You’ve got one.

  The City Costume Fashion Gala on Broadway was a raging success. Ryan Xiao was in his element, cosseted in the lap of the glitterati and busy showing off his second-in-command. After dinner, cocktails, and an eye-watering charity raffle (one winner bid $245,000 for a drink with Hollywood icon Cole Steel), Calida slipped out.

  Vittorio was ready to pick her up. He was tucked in a quiet road behind the venue, his car purring and the headlamps dipped. They flashed her once; she opened the door and climbed inside. Instantly she was hit by the smell of perfume—musky and sensual, with a note of lavender. Tess? The thought made her stomach flip.

  ‘Drive,’ Vittorio instructed, as he sealed the privacy screen and placed a hand on her thigh. Calida knew this game. Her lover remained in profile—no need for conversation. His hand crept gradually higher until it found the heat between her legs. As they whizzed through Manhattan, a palette of liquid streetlights, he moved two fingers against her. Calida spread her knees. When the car swung left and his fingers plunged into her, she thought he was going to show her mercy—but no, he kept his touch in place, refusing to move, while she worked with it as much as she could. Vittorio continued to look ahead, his expression still. Unable to bear it, Calida reached down. Vittorio caught her, gripping her fingers in his other hand.

  ‘Not yet,’ he told her.

  Back in Greenwich Village, Vittorio threw her face-down on to the bed, hitched up her skirt, ripped down her panties, lifted her hips so she was on her knees, and slapped her hard on the ass. Calida bit the sheets, her cunt spread and wet.

  ‘You want me to fuck you like I’ve never fucked you before?’

  Vittorio stood from the bed. He came to each side, taking one wrist then the other, and tying them to the bedposts with silk ropes. Calida groaned, her lips dry. He stripped and positioned himself behind her. First, she felt his tongue, direct in her opening, licking her, and she had never felt so exposed and turned on.

  With exquisite cruelty, he pulled back. The urge subsided. Then he savoured her again, lost in her this time, and she could feel the coarse grain of his stubble against her backside. She ground against him and that irreversible tingling threatened to take her for the second time. He sensed it and stopped. ‘Not yet,’ he said again.

  Next, his fingers entered her. Building a rhythm, he withdrew and worked the liquid up to her ass. Coaxing inside that virgin orifice, she felt her knees spasm. She pulled on the cords that bound her wrists, and flushed searing hot.

  ‘Oh!’ she breathed. ‘Oh, oh, oh …’

  ‘Do you like that?’ Vittorio rasped. This time he pushed further. His other hand cupped her pussy, locating her clit, and he massaged the two together.

  ‘Yes,’ she managed. ‘Vitto, please,’ she begged, ‘fuck me there.’

  Her whole body yearned to accommodate him. Even so, she wasn’t prepared for the flash of blind-white pain that shot through her as he broke in.

  ‘Ah!’ she screamed—but it was short-lived. Pleasure took over instantly, his cock scorching inside her as he rocked back and forth, first slow then speeding, and this pleasure was no greater or lighter than the other pleasure, but totally unalike. She was plugged into a primitive, animal pleasure; a Freudian pleasure, one that rooted her to the solid, soiled earth. They climaxed together. Calida lost herself for those seconds, saw herself from above and below, and wasn’t in her mind but out of it.

  Vittorio rolled off and lay next to her, panting. She collapsed, still bound, her elbows numb now that the storm had subsided. Her legs quivered, every muscle spent. She turned to face him, marvelling at his pristine looks; the almost cruel line to his mouth, his angular jaw and chin. How many other women had he done that to?

  Had he done that to Tess Geddes?

  ‘Do it to me again,’ Calida said.

  Vittorio shot her a grin. ‘What’s up with you tonight?’

  ‘Just do it. I want you to.’

  He obeyed. This time she came more furiously than before. She wanted to go on all night, each orgasm claiming more of him, destroying another piece of her twin.

  Every time Calida slept with Vittorio, it was a knife in her sister’s back.

  You can’t deny me for ever, she thought. When I get you face to face you won’t be able to pretend I don’t exist. I’ll force you to admit it.

  After all, I’m fucking your boyfriend. How’s that for poetic justice?

  ‘Vitto,’ she asked starkly, ‘do you know Tess Geddes?’

  Vittorio sighed. ‘I’ve met her once or twice. Why?’

  ‘Astrid Engberg mentioned it. I wondered.’

  ‘You’re not friends with her, are you?’ he asked quickly.

  ‘Astrid thought I might take her photograph. We asked but she declined.’

&nbs
p; Vittorio pushed himself up on one elbow. ‘I’m not surprised,’ he mused. ‘I’ve heard she’s a stuck-up cow. Tess Geddes doesn’t mix with just anyone.’

  ‘Does she mix with you?’

  He eyed her. ‘Am I detecting jealousy?’ he goaded.

  ‘Never.’

  He grinned. ‘Good. I barely know Tess. All I know is she’s a suicidal maniac who put herself in hospital. I don’t want to know any more.’ Vittorio leaned in.

  ‘Now,’ he murmured. ‘Shall we untie you, or do you want to go again?’

  Calida had always thought with her head—and this was no different.

  She already had her shield in place, and the shield was that she didn’t love Vittorio. She never would. That territory was closed. She had been there, put her heart on the line, spilled inside out for the sake of another person and had wound up being rejected. It meant she could challenge her sister without fear, without limits; it meant no weapon of Tess Geddes’ could penetrate her armour. She had nothing to lose.

  As the days passed, the competition obsessed her.

  Ryan asked why she was distracted. Lucy couldn’t understand when she cancelled plans last minute. Each time she made a date with Vittorio, it was one less date he was having with Tess. Every time his pager beeped or he told her he couldn’t make a secret rendezvous, she spent the night imagining him with her sister.

  Weeks after the revelation, shock still didn’t do it justice. The fact that the twins had come so close, connected after all this time by the heat of another man’s body, their lives crossing over so close and yet so far, was both horrible and brilliant at the same time. Every moment was bringing them closer to a head-on collision.

  Two cars hurtling towards each other in the dead of night.

  Time passed and she and Lucy went their separate ways: Lucy moved up at MOMA and at the same time she moved in with her architect boyfriend. Calida bought a place on Upper East, with its own studio and dark room.

  Then, out of nowhere, one frosty morning in the park, her phone rang. She reached into her bag to retrieve it.

  ‘Calida, it’s me.’

  It took her time to place the voice—not because she didn’t recognise it but because it was the voice she had steeled herself never to hear again.