Page 3 of Private Lives

She slipped off her jacket and let her dark hair down from her businesslike ponytail. Better, she thought, checking her reflection in a mirrored water feature, although she accepted that she was never going to compete with the exotic creatures drifting past her. At a party like this she was invisible. Not that that was a particularly bad thing; it meant she could have the mother of all people-watching sessions: the married celebrity necking with the model who was most certainly not his wife, and the high-profile lord who appeared to be preparing to snort a large amount of powder from a marble mantelpiece.

I assume that’s snuff, she smiled, reminding herself that it was her job to be discreet.

Her mobile began ringing angrily in her bag. Reluctantly putting her flute of bubbly down, she scrabbled the phone out. Dammit, work, she thought, peering at the screen. Wasn’t it always?

‘Anna? Where the hell are you?’

It was Stuart Masters, the head of the media department at her firm.

‘I’m at Ilina Miranova’s celebration party,’ said Anna, raising her voice to be heard over the banging music.

‘What? At this time?’

She glanced at her watch. It was just ten o’clock. For a moment she imagined Stuart and his uptight wife Cynthia sitting in their perfectly ironed dressing gowns playing Scrabble.

‘Well go and find Nick Kimble. We need to get an injunction. Right now.’

There was no point complaining. It was Friday night, the run-up to the weekend newspapers, and for an associate who specialised in short-notice injunction work, that meant being on red alert.

Stuart filled her in on the pertinent details. Hanging up, she looked urgently for Nick Kimble, her supervising partner at the firm. They’d arrived together straight from work, but Nick had abandoned her within five minutes saying he had to ‘go mingle’. Had to go and see if he could sleaze up some poor model, more like, thought Anna. Sure enough, she spotted him at the bar, leaning over a girl young enough to be his daughter. He didn’t look pleased to see his colleague.

‘Sorry, Nick,’ she said as she took his elbow. ‘We need to talk. I’ve just had a phone call from Stuart.’

Nick rolled his eyes. ‘Who’s in trouble this time?’

‘Shane Hardy again.’

‘You mean happily married role-model-to-the-kids footballer Shane Hardy?’ he said sarcastically. ‘Let me guess, he’s had another one of his moral slips?’

She nodded. ‘His people want to meet tonight. The News of the World are going to run the story on Sunday if we don’t injunct it.’

‘I think you should deal with this,’ he said, slugging back his whisky. ‘Call counsel. Find a judge tomorrow morning.’

‘Nick, a partner should handle this one. Shane’s club is an important client.’ It was typical of Nick to try and weasel out of it, especially now that he was at one of the primo parties of the season, surrounded by beautiful women.

He clapped her on the shoulder, a little too hard.

‘Anna, my love, sometimes you need to step up to the plate. Think of this as your big break.’

‘Nick, it’s my dad’s birthday this weekend. I have to be in Dorset.’

‘Tell you what,’ said Nick with a patronising smile. ‘You speak to the client tonight. Get the injunction tomorrow. Let the media know they’re gagged and I’ll take it from there.’

Oh, right, you’ll take over when all the hard work is done and you’ve slept off your hangover? she thought. Not for the first time, she bit her tongue and reminded herself that all she had to do was stick this out for another twelve months and she’d make partner. Then she wouldn’t have to do Nick Kimble’s dirty work ever again.

Her boss touched her on the forearm. ‘Before you go, can you just pop to the bar and get me a drink? Champers, the good stuff, so I can mingle. Branson must be here somewhere. I wouldn’t mind a slice of his corporate work.’

The crowd parted as Ilina approached them, shimmering across the floor like an exotic mermaid. ‘Nick. Anna,’ she purred, taking them both by the arm. ‘So lovely to see you.’

‘Ilina, your house is amazing,’ said Anna truthfully. It was a perfect detached Georgian property, in a prime location, which had been extended and modernised with taste and elegance. Anna shuddered to think how much it would cost to buy.

‘You are so sweet. Thank you.’

Nick shrugged dismissively. ‘My wife and I looked at a property not dissimilar to this last year,’ he said.

‘Then I think I must be paying you too much,’ said Ilina with mock-severity.

Anna couldn’t resist a smile as Nick tried furiously to back-pedal.