Players by Karen Swan

Author:Karen Swan [Swan, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780330520164
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

Chapter Thirty-one

Kate’s phone had stopped ringing but she was too happy to care. It had been four days now since Tor had left her last whining message, six since Cress’s. None from Lily or James, of course. And as for Monty, well – his calls, which had been every twenty minutes, had dropped back to twice a day. They all seemed to be getting the message, at last. You could train dogs faster, she’d laughed, with Harry.

The past few weeks had been fabulous. They’d barely got out of bed. She had called in to the office and block-booked scores of off-site meetings with Mr Hunter. The other partners didn’t care – so long as she was billing him and keeping the star client happy.

If only they knew, she thought to herself. He’s fucking delirious.

She swung her legs out of bed and walked to the window. It was 10.40 a.m. and London was wide awake. The cabbies were honking their horns, red buses were belching out black fumes and everyone was busy, distracted, late, disengaged. She sighed with contentment at the scene of urban bliss beneath her. There wasn’t a buggy or bump in sight. She felt more relaxed than she had in years. How could it have taken her so long to realize that she was living the wrong life? Married to a man she should have left dumped as a teenager, a man whom Mother Nature had clearly been saying wasn’t her biological mate. And living on the fringes of Nappy Valley, overlooking all the other people who were living the life she should have had. How could Monty have been so insensitive keeping her there, so blind to her pain?

She knew now that there was so much more to life than babies and coffee mornings. Harry had shown her that. He’d taken her into a London she didn’t even know existed. A London where a spontaneous supper was at San Lorenzo and a swim was at the RAC, where a morning’s sightseeing was in Getty’s helicopter (the only one licensed to fly over the City), and where the red-brick walls of the mansions in Holland Park camouflaged not just Old Masters but the hard-partying antics of the young elite.

She’d met so many new people, made so many new friends – all of them in the papers, of course, and the partners were practically wetting themselves at the prospect of all the new business she was bringing their way, as she casually name-dropped in meetings. It wasn’t just her personal life in the ascendant. So too was her career. She’d never done less work in her life, but she was making the Old Boys motto work for her: it isn’t what you know, but who.

No one knew anything of her marriage break-up, so they didn’t think too much about the change in her appearance – the mane lopped into a layered bob and the chic flowing Armani suits replaced by tight, tight Gucci.

Harry had just adored taking her shopping. She had been his plaything out of bed, as well as in, letting him choose everything for her.

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