Keep Your Eyes on Me

by Sam Blake

  Her eyes locked on the screen, Lily moved her mouse and made a fractional change to the image. She needed to get the shadows just right, so that Bellisima’s hand rested casually a little too far up Marcus’s thigh. Convinced that it looked like the real thing, Lily sat back in her chair with satisfaction.

  Behind her the door opened, and her friend Nathan stuck his head into the tiny editing suite. She hurriedly closed the image, leaving a photo of one of her designs, a ruby-encrusted bird-shaped brooch, on the screen instead.

  Coming into the room, twisting his diamante stud earring, Nathan glanced at the screen. He was wearing a red plaid shirt loose over a Superman T-shirt, the short sleeves of the shirt revealing tats covering his arms.

  ‘You’re a star for letting me use your kit. My MacBook is just too small for anything ultra-high-definition. These monitors are great.’

  He shrugged. ‘No problem. So when do you go to New York?’

  Lily grinned. ‘Soon, only a few weeks now. I’m so excited.’

  ‘Better than painting fur.’

  She arched her eyebrows in question.

  ‘That’s where I started off in animation, painting fur.’

  ‘Are you serious? I never knew. Is that even a thing?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’ Nathan laughed. He rubbed his ginger beard philosophically, shaking his head. ‘You go to the top art school in the world and end up painting the hairs on a rabbit’s arse. What can I say?’ She laughed as he continued, ‘So do I get the brownies now or do I have to wait even longer?’ Nathan eyed the Tupperware box beside the keyboard that Lily had brought with her. ‘It’s almost coffee time. You know I run on caffeine and chocolate.’

  ‘You have to wait. There’s one more thing to do. Give me ten minutes.’ She made a sweeping motion with her hands.

  He laughed. ‘Right, but be quick. I’m dying here.’ Slipping out, he closed the door behind him.

  She’d met Nathan on her first day at Central Saint Martins. She’d been totally lost and absolutely soaked to the skin. The rain had been biblical and she’d been practically drowned alive, her hair straggling down the back of her very wet mac. He’d spotted her at the entrance to the college, and must have been going somewhere much more interesting, but he’d taken one look at her and wordlessly steered her to the ladies so she could get dried off. When she’d come out, she’d been amazed to see he was still there, leaning against the wall, silently tapping his Converse to the beat of whatever was playing though his earbuds. A bright-red messenger bag slung over his shoulder, jeans held tight against his ankles with old-fashioned bicycle clips, he’d had the beard even then. He was in his last year, about to graduate and head into animation, had literally taken her under his wing because the exact same thing had happened to him on his first day.

  And she was a fellow ginger.

  They were a dying breed – as he’d explained the next time she’d bumped into him, heading across Granary Square, his aviator shades reflecting the dancing water fountains – they had to stick together. They’d high-fived and stayed friends ever since.

  And few people could manipulate an image like Nathan. He’d taught her how to use Photoshop to start with, and he’d been delighted to hear from her when she’d texted the previous night asking if she could use his equipment for a project. He’d suggested she come down to his office at Red Fox Films the next morning on the condition that she brought her homemade brownies. Smiling, Lily had texted back and gone straight to the kitchen and switched on the oven.

  Lily turned back to the screen. She had one more image to work on. Opening her Dropbox, she extracted the second photo she’d chosen.

  Vittoria had given her the password to Marcus’s Google account. She’d been very careful to pick her moment when she’d first logged in – she knew that Gmail flagged up log-ins from new devices, sending the user an email to alert them. It was a protection against getting hacked – a pretty useless one if the hacker happened to be in your account at the time and could delete it. Which was exactly what she had done the first time she’d logged in. She’d had a good look around, checking the photographs backed up to Google Drive, including a whole range of selfies that had given her lots to work with.

  She just needed to change the date stamp on this one and she was all finished.

  *

  ‘Did you see the paper?’ Lily’s school friend Emma arrived in the café on Great Russell Street in a flurry of shopping bags, her white blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. ‘My God, why did I wear boots and a coat? It’s almost October and it feels like August. Must be global warming.’

  Dumping her handbag and purchases onto the bench seat opposite Lily, she leaned down to give her a quick peck on the cheek before pulling off her padded jacket and collapsing into the booth. Lily had chosen a table inside the café well away from the huge glass window, where they could speak in private without being ogled by everyone who passed by on the street.

  Before Lily had a chance to give her thoughts on the weather, Emma sat up, her eyes wide. ‘So, how was New York? Did you shop?’ Lily shook her head in amusement at Emma’s flushed face. Emma opened her eyes wide. ‘I need to know.’

  Lily laughed. ‘I didn’t do much shopping, but I got a job.’

  Emma’s shriek made everyone in the restaurant look at them. She grabbed Lily’s shoulders across the table. ‘Seriously? At No. 42?’

  Lily suddenly felt a huge full-body blush hitting her. She was partially saved by the waitress coming over to them to take their lunch order.

  ‘Good news, ladies?’

  Emma grinned at her. ‘The best. What are you having, Lils? We need to celebrate. Bellinis? Say yes! You have to – I’ve got to live the life I want or it will never happen!’

  ‘Go on, you’re bonkers, you know that?’

  Emma grinned at her slyly. ‘I am but I’ve got a friend who’s going to design jewellery for No. 42 in New York. So there.’

  Smiling, the waitress took their orders, and the moment she turned her back, Emma said, ‘Oh. My. God. I can’t believe it. No. 42. They do all the stars.’ She was almost breathless with excitement. ‘That’s just so fantastic. Do you get a staff discount?’

  Lily shook her head, laughing. ‘I’ve really no idea – I forgot to ask. But they want me to design their private bespoke pieces, so I should have some fantastic celeb exclusives for you with a bit of luck.’ She paused. ‘So tell me, how’s work going?’

  ‘Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. They loved that thing about Bellissima Serata. Loved it. Thanks so much. A few more scoops like that and I might never have to write another horoscope.’

  ‘Actually, I think I might have a few more bits for you,’ Lily said, pausing suggestively to make Emma squirm for the gossip. ‘It seems that pilot’s doppelganger has been busy again.’ Lily grimaced. ‘I just feel so sorry for his wife.’

  Emma bit her lip. Lily could see she was trying to seem casual but was failing badly. She was a real reporter at heart – even in school Em had always had that killer instinct that you needed for news. She was tough and she was a worker – Lily admired that in anyone. You had to fight to get what you wanted in this world, and Emma had had to win her place on the staff at the Inquirer and she was going to make sure she worked her way up.

  As if to confirm Lily’s thoughts, Emma’s phone pipped. ‘Sorry, just need to …’ She quickly flicked it open to check her messages. ‘It’s alright, nothing earth-shattering.’ She put it down beside her on the table, completely missing Lily’s swiftly hidden smile. Being in news meant being in touch twenty-four seven, and Em was all over it.

  Unaware of Lily’s thoughts, Emma leaned in and lowered her voice. ‘The lovely Bellissima has been on social media nonstop since Sunday denying she was ever at The Velvet Club with Marcus Devine … But she would, wouldn’t she?’ Emma chuckled. ‘And a story like this is one way to sell a book …’

  Lily raised her eyebrows. Maybe someone else was going to benefit from all of t
his as well as Vittoria Devine. ‘Would she be that cynical?’

  Emma did a double take. ‘Would she what? That type of coverage doesn’t do her profile any harm – she’s probably put her prices up.’

  Lily shook her head, her eyes wide. But before she could comment, Emma said, ‘So how do you know her – Bellissima, I mean?’ She tried to make the question sound off-hand but Lily knew she was fishing. Thankfully the waitress arrived with their order, giving Lily a few moments to think. She’d worked it all out, but she needed to be so careful.

  ‘Enjoy ladies.’

  As the waitress left, Lily picked up her glass and grinned at Emma as she did the same. A Bellini at lunch-time was completely ridiculous but she did have something to celebrate. Taking a sip, Lily put her glass down and shook out her serviette, keeping her voice low as she answered. ‘I don’t know her at all. I told you, I overheard it in Heathrow.’ Even to Lily that sounded a bit weak.

  Emma wasn’t giving up. ‘But how did you know who she was – she could have been anyone?’

  Lily pursed her lips. ‘OK, you’ve got me. Listen, this can’t go anywhere, but I know this hostie who works for TransGlobal. She had a bit of a fling with Marcus Devine, and she was really pissed off when he dumped her. He promised her the earth to get her into bed and then totally ghosted her.’

  Emma scowled. ‘That’s really not very nice. Sounds like Captain Devine needs to be taken down a few pegs. And his poor wife! Not nice at all …’

  ‘Exactly. Then my friend heard he’d been hanging out with this Bellissima. He flew to Milan with her in the cockpit, apparently. I don’t know if that’s just pure gossip, but my friend was really upset.’

  Emma’s mouth fell open, her fork poised above her salad. ‘But isn’t that all sorts of illegal these days? What if she’d been blackmailed by ISIS or something?’

  Lily shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea, but I suppose when you’re the captain, you’re in charge.’

  ‘That could be a huge story, you know.’ Emma looked at her hard. ‘Could I talk to your friend?’

  Lily grimaced. ‘She can’t have any part in it or she’ll lose her job, and you didn’t hear it from me either, or someone will find out it came from her.’ Lily paused. ‘But she did send me some photos.’

  ‘You serious?’

  Lily pulled out her phone, glancing up to make sure no one could see or hear them. ‘Listen, this is really important. I have no idea if these are real, so if they go anywhere you have to make sure you’re covered, make sure someone else makes the decisions on them. My friend is so bitter, he was such a total bastard to her, that I’m really not sure if any of this is true.’

  ‘Got it.’ Emma grinned. ‘But there’s no smoke without fire.’

  Chapter 17

  BY THE TIME VITTORIA got home from work on Wednesday evening the pain in her back was nagging at her and she had even more texts and missed calls from Marcus. Thank goodness he’d be in the air somewhere between Singapore and Sydney tonight and she’d get a bit of peace. She really didn’t need any more messages clogging her phone or her inbox. She’d been flat out trying to fit in as many clients as she could so she could clear her diary for the next few days.

  Coming into the kitchen and dumping her handbag on the polished kitchen table, she pulled open the kitchen drawer to look for her pain killers. The ones she’d taken earlier were starting to wear off and she needed something stronger. She popped two out of a blister pack and took them quickly with a glass of water before slipping a pod into the coffee machine. Turning to lean on the counter while it percolated, she looked out of the French windows, past the green-tiled pool house and on out to sea, the evening sun glinting off azure water. Vittoria fought a Cheshire Cat grin. She wasn’t going to answer any of Marcus’s messages claiming he’d never met this woman or been in The Velvet Club.

  Sometimes silence was the most powerful tool.

  Tchaikovsky slipped off a pine chair and began to wind around her legs purring, standing up on his hind legs to attract her attention. She reached down to stroke his velvet ears absentmindedly, her head full of her meeting with Edward Croxley on Friday.

  This painting was really going to work for her. She knew how good Eileen was. And it would arrive tomorrow, in time for her to take it to London. She would leave the others securely in the attic, hidden away from prying eyes. They were all very high value but not nearly as commercial as this one. It was the most accessible and recognisable, would be attractive to a wider market.

  Everything was going to plan.

  There was little chance that Edward Croxley would detect it as a forgery. Eileen was a world-recognised copyist who supplied museums as well as private collectors with copies of priceless paintings – she was the absolute best.

  But Vittoria knew, no matter how convincing the painting was, in the art world it was all about provenance. Marcus’s father’s collection and the legacy of the Nazis hiding out in Ireland made anything turning up in Dublin all the more plausible. Plus, Vittoria had had an idea that would make the provenance rock solid. She would be taking a letter to London with her, one that just needed a postscript added to allay any doubts Croxley or his buyer might have. She just had to call in to a gentleman who lived in Mile End to have it brought completely up to date. Eileen had explained how she needed to contact him. It was complicated to say the least, but Vittoria could completely understand why.

  The key was that the painting gave her the perfect opportunity to talk to Croxley and get to know him better. If he could find a buyer, the money would be very useful in the grand scheme of things but, more importantly, it gave her power. Vittoria was quite sure it wouldn’t do Croxley’s reputation any good if the truth came out, and if the buyer discovered it wasn’t the real thing, it could get quite messy.

  It was leverage, and that’s what she needed to persuade him to destroy the promissory note and return the keys to Lily’s shop.

  The coffee machine bubbled and whirred behind her and she picked up her cup. Once she was in London she’d get a better feel for the best route forward. She planned to stay for the weekend at least. Marcus wouldn’t be back from Sydney until Tuesday and then he had a week off. A week she had a feeling he’d end up spending in London – no doubt at vague ‘meetings’.

  Vittoria sipped her coffee, smiling to herself. It was quite possible that Stephanie Carson had seen the article in the paper too, and that would give Marcus even more problems. At least he was away all week on this trip so he’d have some time to get his story straight.

  But no matter how much he denied it, this was the type of thing that clung to you. Lily was so sharp. That was exactly the quality Vittoria had recognised in her the first time they’d met. International corporations only hired the very, very best. No. 42 had done their research, and from the moment Lily had explained why she was going to New York, Vittoria had been very sure Lily was someone who would go places. But one of the things Vittoria really loved about Lily Power was how humble she was – she really had no idea of her talent. There was something incredibly charming about the fact that Lily had been blown away that an American company wanted to fly her business class to New York. Vittoria could still hear the excitement in her voice.

  Vittoria hoped Lily held onto some of that wonderful naivety when she became immersed in corporate America. She had a feeling she would. Lily had won all sorts of awards at college – a college that was one of the top in the world – yet she really had no idea how special she was. Vittoria wanted to do everything she could to help her shine.

  And getting her grandpa’s shop back was vital to Lily’s success.

  Vittoria sighed. When somebody crossed one of her friends, they crossed her too, and this Edward Croxley’s behaviour to Lily and Jack had been despicable. He had a lot to answer for.

  And he wasn’t the only one.

  Vittoria tucked her hair behind her ear as she thought about Marcus – and Lily’s stroke of genius with the newspaper story.


  Marcus making a statement denying any entanglement with this Bellissima was a waste of time. The only thing he could do to straighten things was to make it public that he was briefing his lawyer to take a libel suit, but that would all be hot air. Anyone with half a brain could see there were no grounds for libel – which made the whole thing sweeter still.

  Vittoria smiled to herself as she poured her coffee and glanced at the clock. She wanted to pack and then get her workout done and have a swim before dinner.

  Following her upstairs to her bedroom, Tchaikovsky shot ahead as she opened the door and plumped himself down in the middle of her snow-white duvet, pretending he was invisible, a puddle of darkness, unmoving. Vittoria shook her head. Marcus didn’t allow him in the bedroom, but they had their own secret code. When Marcus was away, Tchaikovsky stretched out beside her like he owned the whole house, his purring impossibly loud.

  It only took her a few minutes to pull her suitcase out of the wardrobe and throw her clothes onto the bed. The last time she’d done this she’d been in the grip of an all-consuming rage; now she was a whole lot calmer. She smiled to herself. Last time she’d just thrown her favourite outfits into the case; this time she needed to be more considered. Smart business was the look she needed. Expertly folding everything, she slipped off the navy pencil skirt she was wearing and padded into the bathroom to put on her dance gear and grab a swimsuit.