Lost in Love (25 page)

Grinning, they clinked glasses and sipped.

“I miss Vi,” Summer said, looking around the group. Her heart was in her eyes, and a blind person would be able to read how blessed the newcomer felt to be standing there in their circle of sisterhood. “It’s too bad she couldn’t come.”

They all exchanged glances. Gigi was surprised no one voiced what they were all thinking: that someone should murder Vi’s husband, so she wouldn’t have to deal with any more of his antics.

“It’s too bad Titania isn’t here, too,” Rosalind said. “Although I’m not sure I’d recognize her.”

Gigi smiled. “She looks like we all do, only thinner like she needs to be fed butter sandwiches.”

“I need to get back to the viewing,” Portia said, glancing behind her, searching.

Probably for Jackson. Gigi watched her older sister glide across the floor, straight to her man’s arms. She sighed. Love was all around. Portia and Jackson. Rosalind and Nick.

Even Portia’s new friend Meredith with her powerful-looking man were making gooey eyes at each other. That man didn’t look the gooey type, and he especially didn’t look like a nursemaid. But apparently he’d stood by Meredith’s side as she’d had a cancerous tumor removed just weeks ago.

Gigi’s cynical side scoffed their obvious affection. Her romantic side wanted them to live in love forever, healthy and happy.

“Oh God.” Bea groaned and turned her back to the main room. “Luca’s here. Hide me.”

They all grinned. Underneath it all, Gigi knew Bea liked Luca’s attention, as much as her sister pushed the Italian away.

Rosalind took Bea’s hand. “Come with me. I know someplace where he won’t find you.”

“I’ll come, too,” Summer said. Then she faced Gigi, her brow furrowed. “Unless you’d like the company?”

“Go.” She flashed her devil-may-care smile at them, hoping they’d leave quickly, because she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to maintain it. She watched them saunter away in a flurry of laughter before she retreated back into the shadows.

If she hadn’t been worried about being sighted by the media, she’d have snuck out. There was a faint pounding behind her eyes, and her shoulders were taut. All she wanted was to lock herself away at home and crawl into a bath.

Only her solitude was disrupted by her mother, who glided into the room like a goddess on a mission. “There you are, Imogen.”

Apparently, the mission was her. “You look lovely tonight, Mum.”

“Thank you.”

Gigi meant it. She’d never realized how timelessly stunning her mother was until this visit home. And tonight, the Countess of Amberlin was out in full force, in a designer gown and sparkling jewels. Gigi was pragmatic enough to know that she looked most like their mother, and that it was a blessing given how well her mother was aging. It was one less thing to worry about, career-wise, and given how everything was going lately, she’d take it.

Jacqueline waved to the main salon. “Tonight’s a crowning success.”

“Portia is in her element.”

“She found her legs. Finally.” Jacqueline faced her, her gaze a little too direct. “I never had to worry about the rest of you girls. You were all always so certain of your paths.”

Gigi nodded. She had been. She’d known she wanted to be an actress from the first time she went to the theater, when she was six years old.

“Now I wonder if I wasn’t too glib though,” her mother murmured, looking at the circle of Summerhill women gathering around Portia in the other room.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Gigi said honestly. She tried to see what her mother was seeing. “Everyone seems set now.”

“Are they?” she murmured. She faced Gigi. “Are
you
?”

She stilled. Then she smiled blithely. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Yes, you do, darling.” Her mother touched her arm. “When are you going to stop hiding at home?”

“Is that what I’m doing?” She turned away to hide that her smile was dissolving.

“Yes, it is.” Jacqueline squeezed her hand. “Perhaps it’s time to take your power back. It’s just something to think about, Imogen.”

Frowning, she watched her mother head straight to Portia and link her arm through her sister’s, heads bent with almost identical smiles reflecting at each other. A flash went off, capturing the mother-daughter moment.

Gigi retreated into the dark corner, hating that she was cowering, knowing that her mother was right. The thing was she wasn’t sure if it was Dirk who stole her power, and how could she get it back when she had no idea how she’d lost it?

Psst!

I took some liberties.

For instance, I’m pretty sure you can’t just strut into the Gherkin, no matter how cute and determined you are. However, next time I’m in London, I’ll try it and let you know how it goes.

Also, the Museum of British Peerage doesn’t exist, but if it did you can be certain that the Summerhills would be represented.

* * *

Don’t miss the rest of the Summerhill series!
Check out all Kate’s books here
.

* * *

Hello lovely!

As you know, I’m all about YOU taking care of yourself. But I’d also like to treat you to thank you for your support.

Ergo, The Giveaway.

There’s always one going on. The prizes vary because you know I like to keep it interesting. Win a $200 gift certificate to the store of your choice, a brand new e-reader, sassy lingerie, a buttload of cupcakes, or … The possibilities are limitless and plenty.

There are so many ways to enter, and no purchase is necessary. Please check out my site or my Facebook page for details and deadlines.

www.kateperry.com/giveaway

www.facebook.com/tutuKate

Kick up your feet with a cappuccino or a glass of wine, and enter to win. You deserve it.

xoxo,

Kate

P.S.: If there are other fun, sexy items you’d like to win, let us know!

* * *

Discover the book that launched Kate’s best-selling Laurel Heights series,
Perfect for You
…

From
Perfect for You
(Laurel Heights #1)…

Graphic designer looking for hot sex.

Freya Godwin shook her head and crossed out the sentence. Too blatant. That may be what she was looking for, but maybe she should be a touch more subtle. She didn’t want every freak in San Francisco to respond to her ad.

Doodling faceless lovers entwined in different passionate embraces, she thought about what she really wanted. Finally she scribbled:

Female web designer seeking inspiration in order to complete a very important project. Bring your muse to share.

Lame. Accurate, sure, but it sounded desperate.

Who was she kidding? She was totally desperate.

Her office door slammed open. Flinching, she looked up to find Charles scowling in the threshold.

Hell.
She quickly flipped the notebook shut. If he knew she was spending her valuable time working on a personal ad instead of the Sin City redesign, he’d blow a gasket.

“What the hell is
this
?” He waved sheets of paper in the air.

Maybe he’d blow a gasket anyway. “I can’t see the pages with you flapping them around like that.”

He strode into her office and slammed them on her desk. “Here.”

Freya glanced down and mentally winced. The design was even more white bread than she remembered. She didn’t need Charles to tell her that Sin City wasn’t shelling out the big bucks for white bread—they were paying for buttery French pastry.

“Well? What the hell is this crap?”

It was the last throes of a web designer who hadn’t felt an iota of creativity in over a year. But she just shrugged. “They’re some initial ideas I had. They’re not the final mock ups to show the client.”

“Damn right, they aren’t. If they saw this”—he stabbed a blunt finger at the printouts—”they’d run out of the building in horror.
This is crap
.”

“Tell me what you really think, Charles.”

Ignoring her, he braced his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Do you understand what a coup it was for them to choose Evolve to redesign their website and revamp their branding?”

Yeah, she did. Evolve was well-regarded in San Francisco’s competitive web design field, but to call Sin City hiring Evolve a coup was understating matters. It was unheard of for a huge corporate entity like Sin City to go outside the biggie web design firms to a boutique shop like Evolve.

And Sin City was huge. They were Amazon and Facebook combined but for all things sexual. Store, blogs, chats, reviews, live video feeds—you name it. They even had their own publishing branch that put out several magazines in addition to a line of erotica for women. Compared to Sin City, the Playboy empire looked like a business run out of someone’s garage.

“They didn’t just choose Evolve, Freya.” Charles’s blue eyes burned with the zeal he was renowned for among his colleagues. His employees called it The Mania. “They chose
you
.”

Because of the site she’d designed for a local sex toy shop two years ago. Back before her creative juices had dried up. “I understand, Charles.”

“I’m not sure you do. If you screw this up, you’re out of here.”

Her mouth fell open. It took a couple tries before she could get any words out. “You can’t fire me for one bombed design.”

“I’m the boss. I can do whatever the hell I want. Especially if one of my employees blows the biggest opportunity this company has ever had.” His eyes sparked with dollar signs. “This is our opportunity to play with the big boys. Maybe even go public. I won’t let anyone screw it up.”

“But—”

“And your work over the past year hasn’t been up to your usual standards. I know Marcus bailed you out of the Accordiana job,” he said bluntly.

She cut off her protest. She couldn’t deny it—Marcus hadn’t just helped her out with the design, he’d taken the crap she’d come up with and turned it into gold.

“If you can’t perform, I can’t afford to keep you. Just because you’re Evangeline’s best friend doesn’t mean I’m going to make allowances for you.”

“I can’t lose my job.” Her stomach lurched at the thought.

“Then I suggest you produce a design they’ll fall in love with.” He snapped his suit coat straight and turned to leave. At the door he looked over his shoulder. “I mean it, Freya. Fuck this up and you’re out of here.”

She winced as the door slammed shut. She couldn’t afford to lose her job. It wasn’t that she cared about herself—if she lost her paycheck she’d figure something out. But she wouldn’t be able to support her sister Anna through college, and that wasn’t acceptable. She’d vowed after the fallout from her parents’ accident that Anna would never have to compromise her dreams like she’d had to.

That meant she had to produce a kick-ass design.

In the pit of her stomach she felt a spasm of worry. She’d been off her game—she’d never felt such an utter lack of creativity.

She grabbed the notebook and opened it to her ad. She crossed it out and wrote

Artist in trouble. HELP.

The office door reopened and her best friend Evangeline poked her shiny blonde head in. “You still alive in here?”

Freya slapped the notebook shut. “For the time being. Did you hear your dad?”

“Me and everyone else in the office.” Eve closed the door and perched on the desk’s corner. “I was just happy it was you and not me for a change.”

“Why do you let him treat you like that?” She shook her head. Charles loved Eve, but it was tough love. “He may be your boss but he’s your father too. If you stand up to him, he’ll respect you more.”

“I don’t want him to respect me. I want him to leave me alone.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Besides, you’re the fiery one. You stand up to him enough for everyone. Except for today.”

“I’m not fiery, and today was just strategic.” Everyone assumed that just because she had cinnamon red hair she had a temper to match. Not true. Not that much, anyway.

“Strategic?”

“I didn’t want to aggravate him any more than he was.”

“Hmm.” Eve gazed at her like she didn’t believe her. Then she picked up one of the discarded printouts. “Did you do this mockup?”

“Yes,” Freya answered cautiously.

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“What does it look like?”

“Boring.”

“It’s just a mockup.” She stretched to take the paper, crumpled it, and tossed it at the trashcan.

Eve leaned forward and picked up the notebook. “Interesting sketches.”

Freya groaned. “Give that to me. I was just messing around.”

“By drawing porn?” Her friend frowned as she flipped pages, faint parentheses lining the space between her eyebrows. “
Artist in trouble
? Are you writing a personal ad?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Why are you whispering?”

“I wouldn’t put it past Dad—I mean Charles— to bug the place.”

Freya rolled her eyes. “Your dad is megalomaniacal but he’s not that far gone.”

“Did he or did he not threaten to fire you?”

“You heard that too?”

“Everyone heard. He’s a beast. Especially given how he knows you’re paying for Anna’s college and can’t afford to lose your job. I’d call him something worse, but it’d be too disrespectful.” She tapped the notebook. “But let’s get back to this.”

“It’s nothing. A moment of insanity.”

“If it’s nothing, why are you blushing?”

“I’m not,” she said even as she felt her face burn hotter.

“Right.”

Eve stared at her with a narrowed gaze that was too much like Charles’s for comfort. Then she said, “I have ways of making you talk.”

“It’s really nothing.” Freya sighed. “I had the fleeting thought that if I found someone who made me feel like a sex goddess I’d be able to channel that newfound sexuality into the design for Sin City.”