The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4. Jessie Keane
would you feel, to have a roomful of people admiring your bits?’ asked Annie, glancing around. There was a very polished and strikingly good-looking, silver-haired man in his late thirties across the room, looking at her. He was with two teenage boys, one dark, one fair, and a very handsome middle-aged woman who looked faintly Italian.
‘I’d feel flattered and proud,’ said Kieron. ‘I would probably give them my elephant impression as an encore.’
Annie slapped his stomach again, but she had to smile.
‘Who’s that?’ she asked, curious, indicating the silver-haired man.
Kieron’s gaze followed hers.
‘Constantine Barolli. American mob, New York. They call him the silver fox. Loads of business interests in the West End, it was Redmond’s idea to invite him and his family tonight. Redmond’s trying to woo him but Barolli seems to prefer doing business with the Carters. Those are his sons, I think. There’s a daughter too, a stunner, I wanted her to sit for me but her father wouldn’t allow it.’
Annie looked back and her eye caught Barolli’s again. She shivered.
Someone just walked over my grave, she thought.
Toby went hurrying past trailing his chiffon scarf and a worried-looking Paolo. Something about Toby’s manner made Annie look more closely. Toby was a mob tart and at his happiest among bad lads, but now he looked genuinely alarmed.
‘Kieron, I wonder if I could have a word with you about this fine job you’ve done over here,’ said one of the Delaney’s male hangers-on.
Kieron wandered off and Annie found Orla Delaney standing in front of her beside – Jesus! – a man who looked so like her it was incredible. His thick Titian hair was swept back off his pale face and his eyes were luminously green as they looked into hers. He was dressed in black, his turnout immaculate. He was very handsome and had a cool, unfazed demeanour. Orla was in black too, and against her long red hair it looked truly chic.
‘Hello, Miss Bailey, do you remember me?’ asked Orla, holding out a hand.
‘Of course I do,’ said Annie. Once seen, never forgotten – that was Orla Delaney. Celia had been here then. Annie had been gauche and overwhelmed. Now things were different. She shook Orla’s hand coolly.
‘This is my brother Redmond – Redmond, this is Miss Annie Bailey.’
‘How nice to meet you at last, Miss Bailey,’ said Redmond, shaking her hand too. His hand was cool and dry, his touch light. Just like Orla’s. Annie found herself remembering what Kieron had said about the twins – that they were a pair, entirely independent from everyone except each other.
‘Mr Delaney,’ smiled Annie.
‘We’ve only spoken over the phone,’ Redmond explained to Orla. ‘Miss Bailey has taken over Celia Bailey’s business interests. Celia is her aunt.’
‘Really?’ Orla did her best to look interested. ‘And how is business, Miss Bailey?’
‘Good,’ said Annie. ‘Better than ever.’
A sort of hush was spreading around the room. It was coming from the doorway, where Toby and Paolo were fussing around some new arrivals. Annie looked and her mouth dropped open. It was Max Carter, with two heavies. There was a movement near Orla and Redmond as their minders drew in closer. Toby was glancing nervously back at Redmond and Orla, while Paolo was taking Max’s coat. Redmond and Orla exchanged a look.
‘Jaysus, what’s he doing here?’ asked Kieron, rejoining them.
Redmond paused. He looked across at Max, then at Toby. He nodded. Toby relaxed a bit. Then Redmond said: ‘Mr Carter is very welcome.’
‘Thank God Pat couldn’t be bothered to turn up,’ said Orla.
‘Very welcome,’ said Redmond. ‘This is Kieron’s night, and we want no trouble.’
And he walked off to where Max was standing, Orla and two heavies trailing behind him. Kieron edged up to Annie.
‘That’s Max Carter?’ he said.
Annie nodded.
‘That’s the one you had the fling with.’
Annie gave him a look.
‘Only asking,’ said Kieron, and went off to get them something to eat.
Annie followed, anxious not to be anywhere near Max. She didn’t trust herself. And where was Ruthie? If Max was coming to the gallery, couldn’t he have given the poor cow a night out on the town? But then she knew the answer to that question. Max was here to make a big show of doing whatever he wanted, and fuck the Delaneys. If they wanted trouble, he’d provide it. That was the message.
They raided the buffet table, but Annie’s appetite was gone and she gave most of her blinis with caviar and devils on horseback to Kieron, who wolfed them back. The evening wore on, everyone behaved themselves and Annie wished to God she was home in Celia’s kitchen drinking tea and gossiping with Darren and the girls. Her feet hurt in her new high heels, and her head ached with tension. All she could think was Max is here.
Then the inevitable happened. Kieron nipped off to the bathroom and suddenly Max was standing in front of her.
‘How’s things, Annie?’ he said. His minders were standing two paces behind him, looking at her with suspicion.
‘Max,’ she said, feeling almost dizzy because he was standing here, so close to her. ‘I called in to see Ruthie at Mum’s the other day,’ she blurted out.
‘Did you.’ Max nodded.
Jesus, he was so gorgeous, she thought. That strong profile, the dark skin … his hair, so thick, so black. His eyes, blue as blue, bored into hers. She felt she could drown in those eyes.
‘She’s looking well,’ said Annie.
‘She’s too skinny.’
‘That’s the fashion.’
‘Yeah, it is.’
‘It was a terrible thing about Eddie,’ she said.
What the hell was he saying to her, wondered Kieron, watching them from a distance. He’d come out of the loo and was winding his way back to Annie’s side when he’d stopped and looked ahead for the first time. The ready smile faded from his face. They were talking intensely, looking at each other so closely. He’d seen that kind of look before. Fuck it, Annie Bailey had never looked at him like that. And now he could clearly see why. She was still in love with this Max Carter, this fucking mobster. It would be obvious to a blind man, he thought, and felt a tightening in his guts that he hadn’t experienced before. He had to think about it for a while before he recognized the sensation as jealousy.
If this was what love did to you, thought Annie irritably a few days later as she sat at her dressing table, then you could stuff it. She stared at her face in the mirror, looking for answers and finding none. Was this love? Or just lust? She didn’t know. She’d only felt like this once before, she knew that much. And look at the trouble it had caused. It had been him that time and it was him again. It was always him. The bastard.
‘Annie girl, you look like shit,’ she told herself. She snatched up a hairbrush and tried to sort out the haystack which seemed to have landed on top of her head.
Bugger this, she thought, wrenching the brush through, punishing herself with the pain. But her insides were fizzing like she’d eaten a packet of Love Hearts. She was waking up at all hours of the night since the exhibition, lying there in the dark alone, thinking of him. Of how good he looked, and – oh yes – of how his skin had felt against hers on that one night, that unforgettable