‘Call the police,’ said her mother, but Anna knew there would be no point. Instead, she instructed Rose to go back to the lounge. She stood in the middle of the kitchen waiting for her pulse rate to drop. Then she did what so many Londoners did after a moment of crisis. She made herself a strong cup of tea.
The rain fell harder, rattling the gutters and spattering the windows. Anna sat in the bright, empty kitchen with her steaming mug, and tried not to think about anything. Her doctor had shown her how to do this whenever she was stressed. Now, though, something made her rise—a drop in the wind, a sudden silence—and she needed to see.
Quietly, slowly, she opened the back door and looked out. Her spilled shopping bag was still on the step. Gathering it up, she brought it inside. Her wallet, work folders, shopping—it was all intact.
The only things missing were her cell phone and her keys.
Gail Strong glanced at her watch. Nearly nine P.M.
It was too early to leave the party. She had no intention of going home yet. Her father was still furious with her for skipping the Irish embassy dinner at Grosvenor House and staying out all night, and the atmosphere in the house was frostbitten. Besides, she wanted to have some fun. She was feeling horny.
She looked around the penthouse lounge for available men and found the pickings pretty slim. It was a theatre crowd; surely they were meant to be attractive?
There were two cute young actors handling the play’s smallest roles, but they were obviously gay, and the only other members of the cast she hadn’t met were women. The stage doorman was ancient, at least forty-five, and the show’s producer looked like a total creep. A group of dull men in off-the-rack suits were clearly bankers. One of the waiters was quite fit but—well, a waiter.
Which just left the lead, Marcus Sigler, who was in his mid-twenties and totally hot. But he was still talking to Della Fortess, his leading lady, the one with the big sixties-style hair and the false eyelashes like garden rakes. At least they had managed to ditch the theatre owner’s wife, who was now having one of those don’t-let-everyone-see-we’re-arguing conversations with her husband.
Gail headed across to the windows overlooking the length of Northumberland Avenue and watched the rain coursing down the glass. Marcus was standing directly behind her. She glanced at his reflection and noticed that he was wearing low-cut Dsquared jeans and a River Island khaki T-shirt that showed off his muscular arms. She could price a man’s wardrobe from thirty paces. She wondered if he was screwing someone here—there were quite a few attractive single girls in the room.
Four old guys in D&G suits and patent leather Ferragamo shoes were hanging around by the door, eyeing the ladies lasciviously; they were obviously backers, and had been invited along out of politeness, or because the director wanted to squeeze more money out of them. She had seen their type lurking around her father at official functions so often that she could tell what kind of watches they would be wearing.
She knew she was looking good. She had great legs, and the tight little black skirt always caught men’s eyes. As she adjusted it, she noticed water pooling around the base of the window, coming through a seam in the glass. Moments later it had enveloped the left heel of Marcus’s trainers.
‘Oh, my God,’ she said, touching him on the back, ‘your shoes are getting wet.’
He turned around, and now she caught the full effect of his eyes, a startling ocean green. He stared at her in surprise and looked down, lifting his feet from the water. ‘Hey, a bit of a leak. Thanks. I guess it’s hardly surprising with this weather.’
‘I’m Gail Strong. I just joined the company.’ She shook his hand.
He smiled. ‘I’m—’
‘I know who you are. I saw you when you took over the role of Emmett in Legally Blonde. You have a great singing voice.’
‘Well, thank you.’
‘I went twice, actually. Had a bit of a crush on you.’
‘Did you now.’ Marcus had a soft Irish accent that made her melt. His smile widened. ‘I’m glad you could make it tonight. Are you having fun?’
‘Not really, no. I don’t know anyone.’
‘Well, it’s a bit of a meet-and-greet for the investors, but these things have to be done. I guess if you’re here it means that Robert Kramer has just employed you.’
‘He’s taking a chance. I’m standing in as ASM.’
They chatted easily for a few minutes. ‘Actually,’ Marcus confided, ‘I’m dying for a cigarette. It’s because I’ve got a drink in one hand. They go together.’
‘God, me too, I’m gagging. I think I saw a fire escape on the way in. I was wondering if it’s protected from the rain. I just had my hair done.’