Authors: Lulu Taylor
Jecca came up behind him. She always knew when it was time to calm down and defer to him. She thought she could read him like a book and bend him to her will with her ripe body and beautiful face. Ferrera turned to look at her, staring into those rich dark eyes.
Jecca, you don’t know the first thing about the way I work
.
She smiled, pressing against him seductively, displaying her soft breasts in the low-cut gown to their best advantage. She gazed up at him. ‘Come on, Richard. Forgive me. I got carried away, yes. But you know how passionately I feel about this. You know what that family did to me.’
‘Yes …’
‘All I want is what’s rightfully mine, that’s all. I just don’t want to be cheated. You know how that feels, darling, don’t you?’ She smoothed one hand down his
thigh
and across his crotch, smiling when she felt a stirring response. ‘Tonight has made me feel very sexy,’ she breathed. ‘I felt so powerful, so in control …’ She unbuttoned his trousers and slipped her hand inside, pulling out his already semi-erect cock. ‘I want you to fuck me now,’ she said and then went down gracefully to her knees and took his cock into her mouth. She sucked for a moment, feeling it swell and harden in her mouth. Sliding her tongue round the tip, she ran her hand down the shaft to the base, smoothing her fingers across the skin and moving it gently.
Ferrera looked down: the sight of her pulling his cock into her mouth between her scarlet lips and playing softly with his balls was unbearably exciting. He felt himself engorge inside the delicious warmth and grow bigger with the butterfly-wing tickle of her tongue across the top of his penis. No matter how angry Jecca made him, he couldn’t deny her physical attraction. She knew how to arouse him, how to make it impossible for him to resist her.
She pulled back. ‘You know what I want,’ she said.
He pulled her up, took her to the bed and bent her over it so that she was lying on her stomach. He gathered her long red skirts and pushed them up to her waist, revealing her soft brown bottom. She was wearing no panties, just a lace suspender belt that held up her stockings. She knew how he liked such things and he breathed in appreciatively at the sight of her long slim legs encased in black nylon, her feet in scarlet heels, and the contrast of her bare skin. His penis reared up even more forcefully.
Parting her legs, he revealed her inner lips, already damp, swollen and eager to engulf him. Pressing the head of his penis to her, he pushed his way in quickly, relishing the hot tightness within. Jecca gasped.
‘Harder,’ she ordered, turning her face on the bed cover, clutching the material in her fist. ‘You know how I want it – as hard as you can.’
He was eager to oblige. The fierce anger he had felt needed release and now it mutated to a sexual ferocity as he pounded into her, raising her hips and pulling them to him with both hands. Jecca sighed and panted, moaning with each deep inward thrust. He pushed harder and harder, not caring about anything but reaching the powerful climax he could feel stirring in his depths. He could hear Jecca crying out more loudly now. He knew she loved this. She was grinding her pubic mound on the edge of the bed, getting her pleasure from that as much as from his thrusting.
He wanted her, he couldn’t help that. He loved her Latin passion. It spoke to him, teased him, seduced him. He was furious with her, though, and he would have to think later about how to deal with her. But first …
He pumped into her with all his strength, keen for the great release. Then it came, boiling up inside him and bursting out with exquisite pleasure.
Jemima stared at the papers spread out on the desk in front of her. The sight of them and their screaming headlines made her feel sick. ‘SOCIETY SCANDAL,’ yelled one. ‘THE HEIRESSES HAMMERED,’ cried
another.
Even the broadsheets covered the story, although in slightly more restrained language. The photographs were all of the girls. One or two showed them in their full glamour on the red carpet. Most had them white-faced and shocked as Jecca confronted them.
This was it. All their efforts, all that expense, for nothing. They may as well consider the whole enterprise over right now. And if Jecca was going to sue them, they’d have a costly legal battle to fight as well. What kind of a case did she have, for God’s sake?
The telephone rang and she picked it up. ‘Yes?’
‘Jemima, it’s Ali. I wanted to let you know I’ve located Jecca Farnese.’
‘Oh really?’ snapped Jemima. ‘It’s a bit fucking late for that, darling! Haven’t you seen the papers? We managed to find her ourselves.’ She slammed the phone down and went back to staring at the damage.
‘This isn’t all bad,’ declared Donna, striding about the boardroom. The sisters were sitting, slumped and defeated and she was determined to put the fight back into them. ‘I know it feels like it at the moment, but it’s really not. We wanted publicity and we got it, in spades.’
‘Yes, but we wanted positive publicity.’
‘Ever heard the adage about no such thing as bad publicity? This story is going to fascinate people. They’ll want to find out what this Jecca wants to get her hands on so badly. It makes Trevellyan look good and desirable and glamorous. And you’re in every
paper
and gossip mag, looking fabulous. Even that cow couldn’t spoil that.’
‘But Jecca’s going to sue us,’ Tara said dully.
‘So let her. What kind of case has she got anyway?’
‘What I don’t understand is
why
,’ said Poppy. She pulled at her hair, still auburn from the party, twirling it nervously round her finger. ‘Why does she want to hurt us like this? The whole family only tried to help her, to look after her. Even if she felt excluded by the will, all she had to do was talk to us.’
‘When was that ever Jecca’s way?’ demanded Jemima. ‘When did she ever take the route of peaceful negotiation when there was an alternative of naked aggression? No. I have a theory about why she’s doing this, why she thinks she’s entitled to so much.’ She paused, and the others waited, staring at her. She took a deep breath. ‘I’ve always suspected … I’ve always thought …’ Her expression changed to one of pain and she stared at the table. ‘I never wanted to say it out loud. It’s too dreadful. But I suspect that Jecca may have been Daddy’s mistress.’
Poppy gasped with horror.
Tara clasped her hands together tightly. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘Just look at what happened,’ Jemima said. ‘Daddy was always fixated by her. He adored her, we all knew that. He never punished her, never rebuked her. She could do what she wanted with him. Then when she left home at sixteen, he set her up in that flat in London, not far from this very building. I always felt his love for her was too strong. He wanted to be too
close
to her, and I think she knew it. I’ve always suspected that she seduced him knowingly, very calculatedly, to make him her creature.’
Poppy shuddered. ‘Could she really do it? He was her father!’
‘Her adopted father,’ Jemima pointed out. ‘And you know Jecca. She was capable of anything. And I expect she thought that she’d be able to get a huge juicy inheritance out of Daddy – she probably thought she could get it all. But something must have gone wrong and she ran off before Daddy died. Mother must have suspected, at least.’
Tara frowned. ‘I don’t know, Mimi. I find that hard to believe. My theory is different.’
The other two looked at her questioningly.
She continued, ‘I’ve been trying to locate Mother’s jewellery, you know that. Victor Goldblatt called me yesterday to say that nearly all of it has been located in a bank safe, put there in Mother’s name. No one knows who deposited it there. He’s sent me an inventory and it includes the most personal of Mother’s pieces. But something vital is missing. Do you remember that locket Daddy gave Mother one Christmas? The silver one with the swan engraved on the front?’
The other two nodded.
‘Do you remember what was inside it? Daddy took a lock of each of our hair and had it twisted into a small plait that was curled inside the locket and sealed under the glass, remember?’
‘Yes – I always found it rather creepy,’ Jemima said. ‘It gave me goosebumps.’
‘But the point is, it had our hair in it. Both of yours, mine – and Jecca’s. And it’s vanished.’
The other two looked at Tara apprehensively.
‘So?’ said Poppy.
‘That hair has a sample of Jecca’s DNA. It could prove whether or not she is Daddy’s natural daughter.’
‘His
natural
daughter?’ Jemima was shocked. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘She’s the child of Luca Farnese, we all know that,’ exclaimed Poppy. ‘And she doesn’t look anything like us. How could she be Daddy’s daughter?’
‘I know, it seems crazy. But what if Daddy had an affair with Isabella Farnese and Jecca was the result? It would explain why he loved her so much – because she reminded him of his dead lover and because she was his natural daughter. I think Jecca’s got her hands on that locket so she can use it in whatever legal case she’s planning to show that she’s Cecil’s real daughter and so entitled twice over to a share of the company. If our DNA and hers were close enough, it would prove we had the same father.’
There was a silence as this sank in. Donna watched them, baffled by the sudden revelation of family secrets.
‘So the question is,’ Poppy said slowly, ‘was Jecca Daddy’s daughter – or his mistress?’
Tara nodded. ‘That’s what we have to find out.’
Flick Johnson tossed the rival newspaper angrily across the room.
‘Where the fuck were you when this happened?’ she demanded.
‘Sorry, boss.’ Ben looked shamefaced. ‘No one thought it was going to be anything more than a standard do.’
‘Yeah, well … you look like an idiot. Now I want to try and get hold of this sister, see if she’ll give us her side of the story.’
‘Yeah, but boss, I did get somewhere. I’ve got a couple of spicy little titbits I think you’ll be very interested in.’ Ben smiled and prepared to tell Flick what he knew.
42
THE ONLY SPARK
of hope that could be saved from the nightmare of the Ferrera party was Poppy’s meeting with Neave in the loos. She explained to the other two how she had come to the rescue of the supermodel.
‘All thanks to my trusty needle and thread. She said she owed me one.’
‘That’s great,’ said Donna. ‘This is exactly what we need. Something positive. I want you to call her, Poppy. Meet up for a girly lunch or something, draw her in, get to know her. And maybe ask her if she’ll consider being our face. OK?’
Poppy nodded. ‘I don’t know how I’ll do it, I’m dreadful at that kind of thing. I’m always too embarrassed to ask for favours. But I’ll really try, I promise.’
‘Good. Jemima, you have to get on the phone to people today, and start sorting out this mess. I think that a spread in a glossy magazine will help and for
God’s
sake, talk to those friends of yours at
Vogue
about a feature for the November issue. That will be put to bed any day now, so please get on to it.’
Jemima nodded. Was there really any point? Was the company even going to be theirs in November?
‘And Tara, let’s talk about production and press samples. I’ve got some samples of lotions and milk that Claudine’s sent over …’
Thank God for Donna
, Jemima thought.
At least she’s still positive, and determined to carry on. Without her, we’d really be sunk
.
Jemima was waiting for Iris, her contact at
Vogue
, to get back to her. She had sounded interested and said she would put it past the editor but she was sure they’d run with it.
The phone rang and she picked it up, expecting to hear Iris’s drawling tones. ‘Iris?’
‘No. It’s Harry.’
Her stomach swooped over and she sat back in her chair, feeling breathless. ‘Hello.’
‘I’ve just been in the village and seen the papers. Christ, Jemima, I’m sorry. That must have been so awful.’
‘It was.’ Jemima had told Harry all about Jecca when they’d first married. It had seemed important that he know.
‘I can’t believe she’s back like this. As though she’s not had enough of making you suffer. I’m really sorry. But if it’s any consolation, you looked completely beautiful.’
She smiled. ‘Thanks. I’ve been waiting for you to call me.’
‘I had to sort some things out in my head. I just had to be sure about everything, do you understand? But I think I am now. I want to see you.’
‘Do you? When?’
‘As soon as I can. Shall I drive to you?’
Harry hardly ever offered to visit her in London. Surely this was a good sign. Her skin tingled. ‘Yes, yes. Come to Eaton Square. It’s going on the market next week, it might be the last time you see it.’
‘Where are you going to live?’
‘I haven’t decided. I’ll work something out. Can you come?’
‘Yes. I’ll be there tomorrow night.’
‘OK. That’s great. That’s wonderful.’
They said goodbye and Jemima put the phone down. Something good might be salvaged from this mess. She prayed it would.
Tara let the agent lead her through the property, pointing out all its advantages. She kept impassive, refusing to look impressed by what was on offer. But in her heart, she was rejoicing. This was exactly what she wanted.
Located not far from the enormous green common in the middle of Clapham, the house was on an exclusive street, but unlike the terraces of Victorian villas that surrounded it, it was detached, standing on its own large plot. Once it had been a private school and now it had been beautifully converted into a spacious,
seven-bedroomed
family home, with enormous, high-ceilinged light rooms. It was decorated in a contemporary style with polished wooden floors, white walls and superb lighting. The kitchen was in handmade, duck-egg blue wood, dominated by a huge range cooker. There was a vast playroom, perfect for the children to mess up any way they liked. Best of all at the end of the garden was a small cottage where the headmaster had once lived and which would make two staff flats.