Page 99 of Kiss Heaven Goodbye

ll before the next performance. I’d like to say thanks.’

Miles glanced at his watch. ‘Sure, maybe just the one.’

Chrissy was waiting in the office.

‘So?’ she asked, pouring two fingers of ice-cold vodka and handing him the glass.

‘He’ll be on the membership committee and he’s getting Tom, Brad and Harvey to join him. He’ll have the VIP party for his next London premiere at the club, and he’s coming for dinner with his wife when she’s back in London in a fortnight. Make sure the paps are outside. We can’t have the Ivy hogging all the Covent Garden action.’

Chrissy grinned and took a drink. The cameras had been hastily put into the screening room the day before Euan’s first visit, but maybe it was a good idea to install CCTV everywhere in the club. You never knew when this sort of thing might happen again, with or without a little helping hand. She picked up her phone and dialled a number.

‘Lauren? Chrissy. I have to say, congratulations are in order.’

Lauren was the raven-haired woman with the chocolate-brown eyes. Chrissy knew her from the Tokyo hostess circuit, but she was now one of London’s most elite call girls. Chrissy and Miles had put quite a bit of work her way in the past few months.

‘I aim to please,’ replied Lauren.

‘I’m transferring the five thousand now. By the way, what was it like fucking the sexiest man in Hollywood?’

Lauren giggled. ‘Messy.’

Chrissy hung up and turned to her husband, leaning across the desk to clink their tumblers together. The Globe Club was suddenly in business.

31

February 1994

Sasha pushed the glass door and stepped out into the bright sunlight of Lombard Street. It didn’t happen very often, but at this moment, she felt like crying. She scrabbled around in her bag looking for a tissue, but could only find a cocktail napkin from the Atlantic Bar, seizing it to dab at her eyes.

Philip Bettany put a reassuring arm across her shoulder. ‘Hey, don’t worry, Sash,’ he said. ‘We’ll find another bank. It will all work out in the end, I promise.’

‘It’s not that, I’ve just got something in my eye,’ she muttered, turning away. The truth was, the endless stress of trying to take over the Ben Rivera label was finally getting to her: she wanted it so much, but the harder she pushed, the further away it seemed to be. She had spent the last twelve months walking a dangerous tightrope, on the one hand trying to interest Ben in selling his company and raise the finance to buy him out, while simultaneously trying not to alert any other investors to the potential of the brand.

It was an impossible task, especially as part of her job was to tell everyone how amazing Ben Rivera’s designs were – and of course they were amazing, but she didn’t want anyone else to twig that Rivera might be a future gold mine with the right strategic investment. The last thing she wanted was for him to be poached by one of the big fashion giants like Dior or Versace for a well-paid in-house design position.

The thing that was giving her the most sleepless nights was the difficulty in finding the money. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know plenty of wealthy people. The problem was, Sasha was a twenty-two-year-old ex-model with zero commercial experience. They’d take her for dinner, sure. But hand over upwards of a million pounds for turning Ben Rivera into a ready-to-wear label with a London boutique outlet? Not a chance. The one genuine lead she had, a wealthy Iranian called Razzi Akbari, had put her off seeking private investment overnight. Sasha had been brilliant at their meeting, presenting her business plan with passion and gusto, answering all his concerns, even indulging in a little light flirting. But when she’d overheard Razzi’s wife at a party boasting that her husband was about to buy her ‘a little fashion company to play with’, Sasha had immediately shut down all communication. Ben Rivera was her find. She wasn’t going to be elbowed out of the way by anybody.

Which was why she was standing in the City, fighting back the tears. This was the sixth bank to turn her down flat. Philip’s generous attendance at the meeting had definitely helped things along – having an analyst from Schroder’s in the room meant she hadn’t had to face the ‘but what financial experience do you have?’ question this time. But his presence hadn’t been enough to make it happen.

‘It’s bloody over, isn’t it,’ said Sasha, her voice cracking. ‘There’s no one else to go to.’

‘Chin up, Sash,’ said Philip bullishly. ‘Look around you. We’re in one of the greatest financial capitals of the world. Somewhere nearby is someone with money to invest in the company; it’s just a matter of finding them.’

She forced a smile. He was being kind; he was always kind. After their flirtatious beginning at her parents’ anniversary party, Sasha had discouraged any romantic interest, but to her surprise, Philip had stuck around. It had been strange at first – Sasha had never had a platonic male friend before; in fact, working in fashion, she didn’t have many real friends at all beyond the kissy-kissy, ‘see you at the next party’ variety. But Philip had been a rock, happy to give up his weekends to help her draft a comprehensive business plan, celebrating the completion or refinement of every draft with suppers at Pucci Pizza, drinks at the Hollywood Arms or just a video and popcorn in his small Chelsea Harbour apartment. It was actually nice to have a friend without any of the sexual complications; Sasha wondered why she hadn’t done this years ago.

Philip stuck his arm out, flagging down a cab.

‘Listen, I’ll bet you’re starving,’ he said.‘Come back to mine, we’ll get a takeaway and work out how to crack this.’

‘I’m way behind on work for the label,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I really should get back.’

‘Oh no,’ said Philip firmly. ‘You can’t wriggle out of it that easily. I’m not having you moping all night when I bet the answer is staring us in the face.’

It was true, she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten all day, partly through nerves, partly because she had been so busy preparing for the meeting.

They ordered Chinese from the cab using Philip’s mobile, and it was there by the time they arrived. Philip arranged the cartons on the rug in the living room and laid the business plan out next to it.

‘So let’s look at this logically,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘The banks are a no-go without a big injection of your own cash. What other avenues can we try?’