Page 122 of Gold Diggers

‘Just because you work for Adam, doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you to have fun. He’s not that bad, is he? Or have I raised a monster?’

‘He’s not bad,’ smiled Erin, ‘for a global tycoon.’

‘Funny, most people expect him to be like that.’

‘Me too. I come from Cornwall, where there aren’t too many billionaire industrialists. I’d watched Wall Street and that’s how I expected everyone to be. Hideous and ruthless.’

‘So I take it you’ve survived? Not been chewed up and spat out?’

Not by Adam, maybe, thought Erin. But try his fiancée.

Julia Gold was too graceful to crouch on the floor like Erin, who had got the hem of her long midnight-blue dress dirty and dusty. Instead, Julia rested elegantly against a pillar and looked thoughtfully out at the lake, which had now turned black and was framed by the looming shadows of the cliffs surrounding it.

‘It’s funny,’ she said after a pause, ‘I never thought Adam would end up doing what he does. I don’t know how much you know about our family?’

Erin shrugged. She knew a little colour from a Forbes magazine feature she had read on Adam, but her boss gave out very little personal information on himself.

‘Adam’s grandfather Aaron was a very rich man, but Adam’s father didn’t inherit a cent because Aaron didn’t approve of our marriage. Adam’s father and I were happy and comfortable enough and we did our best for Adam, but we couldn’t really afford the fancy prep schools or those exclusive summer camps.’

She paused and looked back at the magnificent palazzo in the background. ‘Adam was very driven from an early age. He was good at everything, he made sure of it. He always used to say, “We’ll show grandfather, we don’t need him.” I don’t know if you know, but Adam is a wonderful artist. He had a place at Parsons to study graphics. But he didn’t think a career in art could make him money. Not the serious money he wanted, anyway. So he studied economics at Yale and dropped out when Wall Street came calling.’

‘I really didn’t have Adam down as the creative type,’ said Erin, genuinely shocked.

Julia shrugged and smiled. ‘Well, now he buys art instead of painting it. I still have some of his old drawings hung up in the house. They mean more to me than any Hockney.’

Erin thought of Julia’s very expensive Christmas present and winced.

‘And what do you want to do with your life, Erin?’ asked Julia suddenly.

‘Why do you ask?’

The old woman smiled kindly; even in the dark Erin could see the lines around her eyes crinkling with amusement. ‘I consider myself to be a fairly good judge of character, and I wouldn’t have put you in the ruthless world of business.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Erin. ‘Don’t tell your son that.’

Julia looked embarrassed. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. It was meant to be a compliment. And anyway, Adam thinks you’re marvellous.’

Erin felt her heart flutter. ‘Anyway, I wouldn’t say I’m “in the world of business”, as you put it,’ said Erin. ‘I’m only his executive assistant – his PA really. It started off as a way to make money while I was writing a book, but now Adam says I have a future with the company and that maybe I could eventually move into marketing or something …’

‘I knew it!’ Julia looked remarkably gratified. ‘I knew you were a creative soul.’

Once again, Erin didn’t know whether it was an insult or a compliment.

‘Well, don’t hold your breath, Mrs Gold,’ said Erin. ‘I think I’ve been sidetracked.’

‘Really?’ said Julia thoughtfully. ‘Well, let me ask you a question, then. Would you rather have a library lined with beautiful first editions or a bookshelf stacked with your own novels?’

‘Oh, the second one, definitely,’ said Erin immediately. ‘That’s what I’ve always wanted. Just to see a novel I’ve written in a bookshop.’

‘So why are you wasting your time with Adam?’ asked Julia.

The words ‘For the money’ were on the tip of her tongue, but she kept her mouth closed. But she could see that Julia was right. Who was she to look at Molly Sinclair, even Karin, and criticize them for money-grabbing and social climbing, when she was prepared to shelve her own ambition for a fat pay cheque?

‘I’ve written something I’m pretty pleased with. I gave it to my agent last week and he loves it too.’

‘Can I read it?’ asked Julia.

Erin hesitated before recognizing the enthusiasm in Julia’s eyes. ‘I have my laptop with me, but I’m sure you don’t want to read it at the party.’