Page 79 of Wife After Wife

“My sister was stuck in an unhappy marriage for years. She was afraid to leave because she didn’t want to be alone, and because of the money situation. When they finally split she was that much happier, and then she met this really nice man called Ken. I’m sure the same will happen to you, Harry.”

“Perhaps.”

“If you ever need to talk...”

“Thanks. That’s sweet of you. Where would I be without you? Better get on with it, though, eh?”

“Yes, of course, Harry. Loads to get through before the party tonight. Can’t wait! And you can rely on me. Mum’s the word.”

Ana

It was four o’clock, and work had been abandoned for the afternoon. Wine was already flowing, and the girls were trooping, a few at a time, to the loos, emerging transformed and glittery in clouds of perfume.

Ana cleared her desk, pondering the evening ahead. From tonight, she and Harry would be official. Out and about as a couple. And although neither had spoken the words, it was understood she’d be staying over at his place. The prospect hung between them like a delicious fruit. For the past week, every look, every glance they’d shared, had scorched a path through her. A tremor of anticipation rippled down her body. Again.

Knowing all eyes would be upon her, she’d chosen her dress for maximum impact. Because now, not only would she be Rose Corp.’s style queen, she’d be queen consort too. She’d spotted it inVogueand had brokered a deal with Versace—a chunk of advertising space for the loan of the dress. It was gold lamé, and it shimmered with a life of its own. The neckline was draped low, and it was slit to the thigh. Her makeup would be gold, too, and she’d wear her hair loose, poker straight. She was aiming for nothing less than goddess.

Ana switched off her computer, unhooked the hanger from her office door, and headed for the ladies.

Harry

Harry was at the Hippodrome early. It was company tradition that he welcomed everyone personally as they arrived.

Janette was one of the first, looking pretty. She’d gone to town with her makeup and was wearing a dress that was far shorter than her usual style. She kept pulling at the hem, as if everyone was trying to see up it.

“Hello, you look lovely,” said Harry affectionately. He leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

Enormous blush.

“So do you! Happy Christmas!” she said in a high voice.

“Nice dress.”

“You don’t think it’s too short? I went shopping with Lesley from human resources. She talked me into it.”

“Is there such thing as a too-short dress?” said Harry cheekily. “Enjoy the party, sweetheart. Don’t drink too much.”

“I won’t!”

A few more arrived, and then a flood, and he carried on being jovial Santa Harry.

Terri appeared, in head-to-toe black. She’d done something spiky with her hair, there was a black velvet choker around her neck, and her eyeliner was deliberately smudged.

“You look terrifying,” said Harry. “Save a dance for me later. Something by the Cure, perhaps.”

“Very fookin’ funny, Harry... holy shit.”

“What?”

“It’s a walking bloody Oscar.”

Ana was coming through the doors, shimmering in a dress made of something filmy and gold that clung to her perfect body. A smooth, glistening leg peeped through a split up one side, and her hair fell to her waist like a glossy black curtain.

Harry’s composure flew right past her and out the door. Suddenly all he could think about was exploring inside that split.

Terri spoke in his ear. “Harry. Get a grip.”

“What? Yes, get a grip, man. It’s only a golden goddess.”