Gold Diggers. Tasmina Perry
he replied dismissively. He fell quiet as they slowly walked around the palazzo to explore its dark corners, finally finding a quiet courtyard that opened onto a canal, the water lapping up against the marble floor.
‘Eerie, isn’t it?’ he whispered.
‘Have you ever seen Don’t Look Now?’
He laughed, moving closer to her so their fingers brushed.
‘Shall we go?’ he asked. She nodded and he led her out of the palazzo, down a tangle of narrow streets and into St Mark’s Square where the launch to the Cipriani was located up a little carpeted gangway.
‘You at the Cip too?’
‘Palazzo Vendramin, next door.’
No other guests boarded and they sat in silence at the uncovered rear of the boat, watching the green water of the Grand Canal splash and foam around them. The Venetian skyline never failed to make Karin smile, the tall tower of St Mark’s stretching up into a midnight-blue sky peppered with stars. Suddenly there was a whoosh and a spider’s web of colour lit up the sky. Carnival was famous for its firework displays and, for the rest of the journey across to Giudecca Island, the sky was studded with gold and crimson stardust. There would not be a more magical spot to be alone with Adam Gold for the first time, Karin thought to herself, letting her hand slip onto the seat next to his.
‘The view from my suite is just like this,’ said Adam quietly, touching her fingers with his. Karin offered up a prayer and made a mental note to call and thank Eduardo for his brilliant performance. The brother of an old school friend, she had known him since he was a teenager. Now twenty-nine, the gorgeous Venetian playboy was also still in the closet, too afraid of his staunch Catholic parents to tell them the truth about his sexuality. But he had been more than happy when Karin had phoned him earlier that day to play her suitor. ‘I’m going to that party anyway,’ he had giggled, ‘And it won’t be hard to pretend I am madly in love with you, carissima.’ He had played his part beautifully. The psychology of rich men was fairly easy to understand. They wouldn’t stand for something to be taken from their grasp.
The boat chugged to the dock at the Cipriani and the captain helped her onto dry land. Karin and Adam walked down the dark, leafy path into the hotel, where they could hear the tinkling of a piano and the good-humoured murmur of guests leaving the bar.
‘Could you handle another drink?’ asked Adam.
‘I could, but aren’t we going to frighten everyone in the bar?’ she smiled. They were still wearing their heavy cloaks with the elaborate Venetian masks pushed back off their faces.
‘My suite or yours then?’ smiled Adam. Karin’s stomach flip-flopped as she attempted to look nonchalant.
‘Yours, but just for a few minutes,’ she said, and they began to weave through the fragrant gardens of the Cipriani towards the exclusive quarters of the Palazzo Vendramin.
Adam unlocked the heavy mahogany door and let his guest into the suite, walking over to the long shutters and opening them without turning on the light. Karin followed him The view was every bit as impressive as Adam had promised, the milky glow of the moon adding to the magic. He moved behind her and his lips brushed her neck. She had hoped to deny him a little longer, to make him chase her, but it was impossible. The sexual charge between them was too strong. His fingers untied the ribbon of her cape, which fell to the floor, a pool of velvet.
He kissed her on the mouth, his warm hands cupping her face, moving down her back, quickly pulling at the zip. Her dress fell away from her in one movement and she stood there totally naked, save for the mask on the back of her head.
‘For someone who wants to start designing panties, I thought you might be wearing some,’ he said, his voice gravelly.
‘Do I have to practise everything I preach?’ she said softly, her hands moving inside his clothes. She began to undress him, but he gently held her hands still, reaching up to pull her carnival mask back down over her eyes. In the dark, the black mask obscured almost everything and her skin tingled with the thrill. She felt herself being lifted and lowered onto the bed, her groin aching, every nerve tingling with heightened sensualness. She groaned loudly as she felt her left nipple between Adam’s moist lips, then shuddered as two of his fingers pushed into her, sliding back and forth across her clitoris as she arched her back in pleasure. He withdrew and for a few moments she felt nothing but ripples of pleasure and the cool breeze breathing in through the window. Then he parted her thighs with his hands, still damp from her juices, lifting her knees to her chest so his thick cock could sink deep inside her. And, as they rocked together, their sweat-sheened bodies moving in perfect rhythm in the moonlight, she cried out with a sweet mixture of passion, pleasure and triumph.
‘I have to say, Erin, you’ve really pulled it out of the bag this time.’ Richard adjusted his bow tie in a self-satisfied manner and smiled over to his girlfriend. It was true that Erin was attracting a number of admiring glances from Richard’s colleagues at the White, Geary and Robinson annual dinner – not that there was a huge amount of competition, she thought. The Park Lane Hilton was awash with bottle-green taffeta, burgundy velvet and ill-fitting cummerbunds, so Erin’s silk peacock blue DKNY evening dress made her look like a supermodel.
‘Glad you like it,’ said Erin, stroking the fabric. ‘It cost six hundred quid. I don’t think I’ve spent more than that on anything except rent.’
‘Bloody hell!’ whistled Richard. ‘Have you won the lottery and not told me?’
Erin had received her first pay-packet earlier that week and, after nearly fainting at the size of it, had decided to go to Knightsbridge on a shopping spree. At first she couldn’t believe how much designer clothes cost. It was ridiculous! Still, she had to admit it was worth every penny: the blue was stunning against her alabaster skin and it clung to every new curve. She had lost eight pounds since she had left Cornwall; working for Adam meant there wasn’t time to eat. Richard disappeared to check the seating plan and returned with two flutes of champagne.
‘Fuck me!’ he whispered gleefully, ‘we’re only sitting on the managing partner’s table!’
‘I take it that’s a good thing,’ said Erin, laughing at his boyish enthusiasm.
‘Erin, Charles Sullivan is only one of the highest-earning lawyers in the City,’ he hissed, ‘bills millions for the firm. Millions!’
He was beginning to sound like David Attenborough describing some lesser-known species of the Amazon rainforest.
‘Well, I hope he’s a good laugh if we’re sitting with him for dinner.’
‘A good laugh?’ Richard spluttered. ‘Erin. We’re talking invaluable networking opportunities here. One good word from him and I can pick and choose which department I go to when I qualify. I tell you, it’s a job well done here, Erin. Thank you, Adam Gold. Speaking of which, where the bloody hell is he?’
As if hearing Richard’s words, Adam walked into the room. His presence was like a shock of sex appeal in the otherwise sober company of the lawyers and their partners. The cut of his dinner jacket seemed a little more sharp, his shirt more crisp, his tan glowing among the papery English complexions. All heads and eyes swivelled to look at him. Erin felt a bolt of pride as he came up to her and Richard.
‘Sorry I’m late. I was caught in the office. Had a few calls to make to New York. Shall we go in?’
‘Thanks for coming,’ whispered Erin as they strolled into the dining hall, ‘I really appreciate it.’
‘Well I hope he’s going to buy you something very nice for this,’ said Adam, nodding his head in the direction of Richard.
Adam was seated between Erin and Charles Sullivan. Charles was a powerfully built man with a shock of grey hair and a deep voice.