self-satisfied grin on his face. ‘And she’s singing at
my
villa.’
‘Hope she’s off drugs,’ said Charlie Chalk jovially as he watched Harry striding towards Mina to greet her.
Lara and Fabrizio were standing near Sophie Silvestri, her two acolytes propping her up as she tottered over to an inviting sofa. Fabrizio’s face lit up as he saw the legendary actress. She had been his father’s favourite and he admired her too. Lara was extremely jealous of the seventy-four-year-old icon and believed Fabrizio fancied her.
‘Maybe when I was nine,’ he had told her many times. ‘Or maybe Papà did . . . when Papà was nine.’ He laughed at his own joke.
Actually it suited Fabrizio for Lara to be jealous of Sophie. It allowed him to slip away for his alleged golf, tennis or gym sessions and let Lara’s jealousy focus on Sophie when he was actually having matinées with some rich oligarch’s trophy wife or a nubile young stranger from the beach.
‘She’s a witch,’ hissed Lara, then stumbled over to embrace Harry with a vodka-scented air kiss. ‘Darlink – we’re so excited – tonight will be one to remember.’
‘It will indeed,’ replied Harry, and turned his back on her to continue talking to the ravishing Mina Corbain as the whole room gawked, basking in the glow of her celebrity.
Across the room, Sophie Silvestri glared at the young singer. So used was she to being the centre of attention at most Saint-Tropez parties that her nose was being put seriously out of joint.
But that didn’t faze Mina who, seeing the legendary actress, hastened towards Sophie to greet her with a warm embrace and several air kisses. ‘Oh, my God! They said you’d retired! I didn’t know you STILL went out,’ she said excitedly. ‘Oh, I always admired you so much, my mom did too!’
Tight-lipped, Sophie allowed herself to be hugged and kissed, her nose wrinkling at the strong scent the girl wore.
Mina beamed, taking Sophie’s expression of distaste for admiration. ‘It’s my new signature perfume: “Scallywag”. Do you like it? I’ll send you some.’
‘It’s – lovely – er – quite original.’ Sophie tried to escape from the singer’s embrace, conscious that the whole room was agog at the sight of these two divas, generations apart, face to face. She cast a ‘help me’ look towards Frick and Adolpho, but they were too awestruck by this amazing summit meeting to do anything but take pictures on their cell phones. Mina was hanging on to Sophie’s arm, chattering away, and wouldn’t let her go.
‘I hear she got two hundred and fifty thousand euros just to show up tonight,’ Maximus whispered to Carlotta, equally entranced by the tableau.
‘What did Sophie get then?’
‘Nothing,’ he sneered. ‘Everybody’s seen her a million times. She’s over. Yesterday’s news.’
‘I love your dress – it’s so retro!’ Mina gabbled to Sophie admiringly. ‘My grandmother had one just like it in the 1960s! She loved your movies so much that she used to take me to all of them when I was a little girl.’
Sophie had had enough. Mumbling a brief, ‘Oh, how sweet’, she wrested herself from the singer’s grip and toddled on her agonising stilettos over to Frick and Adolpho. She noticed Lara staring at her and recalled that fateful night twenty-five years ago at the Manhattan opening of her elegant new fashion line, when she was still a big star and a society hostess to be reckoned with. Lara and Jonathan Meyer, the darlings of New York society at the time, hosted the event. However, Sophie had been given the wrong address and was photographed by a gleeful paparazzo, who was inexplicably also at the empty restaurant when she entered triumphantly to be welcome by a bemused junior waiter with a tray full of dirty dishes.
The photos went viral and the papers ridiculed her mercilessly. Sophie was sure Lara had planned it on purpose to embarrass her and claim the number one spot in the Manhattan
my
villa.’
‘Hope she’s off drugs,’ said Charlie Chalk jovially as he watched Harry striding towards Mina to greet her.
Lara and Fabrizio were standing near Sophie Silvestri, her two acolytes propping her up as she tottered over to an inviting sofa. Fabrizio’s face lit up as he saw the legendary actress. She had been his father’s favourite and he admired her too. Lara was extremely jealous of the seventy-four-year-old icon and believed Fabrizio fancied her.
‘Maybe when I was nine,’ he had told her many times. ‘Or maybe Papà did . . . when Papà was nine.’ He laughed at his own joke.
Actually it suited Fabrizio for Lara to be jealous of Sophie. It allowed him to slip away for his alleged golf, tennis or gym sessions and let Lara’s jealousy focus on Sophie when he was actually having matinées with some rich oligarch’s trophy wife or a nubile young stranger from the beach.
‘She’s a witch,’ hissed Lara, then stumbled over to embrace Harry with a vodka-scented air kiss. ‘Darlink – we’re so excited – tonight will be one to remember.’
‘It will indeed,’ replied Harry, and turned his back on her to continue talking to the ravishing Mina Corbain as the whole room gawked, basking in the glow of her celebrity.
Across the room, Sophie Silvestri glared at the young singer. So used was she to being the centre of attention at most Saint-Tropez parties that her nose was being put seriously out of joint.
But that didn’t faze Mina who, seeing the legendary actress, hastened towards Sophie to greet her with a warm embrace and several air kisses. ‘Oh, my God! They said you’d retired! I didn’t know you STILL went out,’ she said excitedly. ‘Oh, I always admired you so much, my mom did too!’
Tight-lipped, Sophie allowed herself to be hugged and kissed, her nose wrinkling at the strong scent the girl wore.
Mina beamed, taking Sophie’s expression of distaste for admiration. ‘It’s my new signature perfume: “Scallywag”. Do you like it? I’ll send you some.’
‘It’s – lovely – er – quite original.’ Sophie tried to escape from the singer’s embrace, conscious that the whole room was agog at the sight of these two divas, generations apart, face to face. She cast a ‘help me’ look towards Frick and Adolpho, but they were too awestruck by this amazing summit meeting to do anything but take pictures on their cell phones. Mina was hanging on to Sophie’s arm, chattering away, and wouldn’t let her go.
‘I hear she got two hundred and fifty thousand euros just to show up tonight,’ Maximus whispered to Carlotta, equally entranced by the tableau.
‘What did Sophie get then?’
‘Nothing,’ he sneered. ‘Everybody’s seen her a million times. She’s over. Yesterday’s news.’
‘I love your dress – it’s so retro!’ Mina gabbled to Sophie admiringly. ‘My grandmother had one just like it in the 1960s! She loved your movies so much that she used to take me to all of them when I was a little girl.’
Sophie had had enough. Mumbling a brief, ‘Oh, how sweet’, she wrested herself from the singer’s grip and toddled on her agonising stilettos over to Frick and Adolpho. She noticed Lara staring at her and recalled that fateful night twenty-five years ago at the Manhattan opening of her elegant new fashion line, when she was still a big star and a society hostess to be reckoned with. Lara and Jonathan Meyer, the darlings of New York society at the time, hosted the event. However, Sophie had been given the wrong address and was photographed by a gleeful paparazzo, who was inexplicably also at the empty restaurant when she entered triumphantly to be welcome by a bemused junior waiter with a tray full of dirty dishes.
The photos went viral and the papers ridiculed her mercilessly. Sophie was sure Lara had planned it on purpose to embarrass her and claim the number one spot in the Manhattan
Similar Books
