Page 100 of Kiss Heaven Goodbye

‘Are you sure your dad isn’t interested?’ said Sasha, reaching for the noodles. She’d never met Leo Bettany, but she still hadn’t forgiven him for making her father redundant. His selfish attitude to his kids hadn’t helped; although Philip had all the polish of a successful Young Turk, not a penny had come from his father. Leo Bettany believed in leaving his children to their own devices and had vowed to bequeath all his wealth to charity.

‘Tried him,’ said Philip sheepishly.‘He says he only invests in areas he understands – that doesn’t include cocktail dresses apparently. Besides, you’re a friend of mine, which definitely counts against you.’

He sat up, pursing his lips. ‘Look, we need at least a million pounds’ investment and the banks have refused us,’ he said. ‘There’s the venture capitalist firms, but they usually like dealing with bigger investments.’

‘So let’s ask for more money.’

‘And give up seventy per cent of the business?’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t think that’s the way to go. I still think we need to chase down private investors, despite what happened with Razzi. Investment is about people, and you are definitely the right person to turn Ben Rivera into everything it can be.’

‘Sweet of you to say,’ she said. ‘But no one seems to agree with you.’

Philip paused for a moment.

‘Look, I have about two hundred thousand pounds of my own funds we could put in,’ he said. ‘Private investors might be more willing to look at you if we put in some capital of our own.’

Sasha stopped and gaped at him, a spring roll halfway to her mouth.

‘You’d really d

o that?’

‘Well, when you first told me about your idea, I was sceptical. But that was before I knew you, before I knew how determined you are, what a taste-maker you are, how special you are.’

‘You’re a sweetheart, you know that,’ said Sasha with sincerity.

‘Everything you’ve done over the past few months, everything you’ve helped me with . . . I don’t know how to thank you.’

She felt the atmosphere in the room change. Dusk was settling across London, and while Philip’s apartment was small, it had floor-to-ceiling windows with a view right across Chelsea Harbour. Suddenly Sasha was very aware of the soft glow of the setting sun filling his living room.

‘You know how you can thank me,’ he said quietly.

It was true. She’d steered their relationship towards friendship not because she didn’t find Philip attractive, but because she couldn’t handle the distraction. She’d learnt the hard way that men were bad news, that love was a false promise. Even sex came with a price. She didn’t need it. She didn’t need any of it.

‘You’re a nice guy, Philip, but . . .’

‘What’s wrong with the nice guy?’ he said, stretching over, his fingers touching hers.

God, why does he have to be so bloody handsome? she thought, feeling her guard slip. He brought his hand to her face, cupping it gently, then slowly, very slowly, lowered his soft lips for the most tender of kisses.

She shivered; both anticipation and fear. She’d had sex only once since her episode with the D&D advertising executive three years earlier. It had been on a work trip to Italy and he’d been a macho Milanese fashion executive; the experience had been stiff, painful and awkward to the point where she faked an orgasm after just a few minutes to get the whole thing over with. But this wasn’t like that, not at all. As Philip slowly unbuttoned her shirt and unclipped her bra, she groaned, pushing her firm breasts towards him. She wanted him, wanted his touch, wanted it hard and fast. But Philip was in no hurry. For someone who had so obviously wanted her for so long, he was maddeningly slow, taking each moment leisurely to kiss, taste and savour every inch of her body, his tongue discovering secret pleasure spots she had never even known existed. The tip of his finger circled her nipple, delicately at first as it hardened to his touch, then when it was ripe he lowered his mouth, sucking and gently biting. He repeated it on the other side, then kissed down her belly, swirling his tongue around the insides of her thighs. Waves of white-hot desire rippled from her belly before he had even entered her. But then he was inside and she was crying out in pleasure, her hands gripping the rug, her feet kicking the takeaway cartons across the floor. The orgasm that was building from her throbbing, molten core was so deep, so electrifying, so blissfully, blindingly exquisite, she pleaded with him to stop. When it was over, she relaxed into the curve of his body, enjoying his musky, manly scent of sex and sweat, and the feeling of sweet, satisfying release.

‘That was every bit as good as I hoped it was going to be,’ he said, his face silhouetted in the low light.

She nodded, realising that the deep knot of tension and anger inside her was no longer there.

Her eyes stared at the ceiling.

‘I know who I can get the money off,’ she said slowly. She hadn’t wanted to ask him, although from the start he was the obvious person. But having sex with Philip, creating a new bond with someone who made her feel safe, galvanised her to do it.

‘Well that’s fantastic,’ Philip breathed into her ear, reaching around and cupping her breast, his finger and thumb getting to work on her hardening nipple. ‘But it’ll wait until morning, won’t it?’

Sasha gave another gasp of pleasure and turned back to him.

Yes, she guessed it would.

32

‘Where’s Gabriel?’ snapped Isabella, sweeping imperiously into the hall. Grace had already searched the whole of the ground floor of El Esperanza. His cousin’s wedding was due to start in forty-five minutes and the church was at least half an hour’s drive away. It was one thing waiting for the groom to be kept waiting by the bride, but not by random members of the family.