Tales Of Temptation: Rivals / Pride / Ambition. Victoria Fox

and rammed her tongue down his throat. I caught them, in the changing rooms. I hated gym class even more after that.’

      ‘Did they get together?’

      ‘No. She got bored after a week.’

      Isaac frowned. ‘I’m sorry. That sucks.’

      ‘She only did it to hurt me. She didn’t even like him.’

      ‘Why?’

      Julia considered it. ‘He had nice eyes, I guess, but he was a bit chubby. And then there was chess club…’

      He laughed. ‘No, why did she do it? Why would she want to hurt you?’

      ‘Because that’s what Emily does: she belittles people. Ever since we were small and our mums made friends at nursery. Whenever we played make-believe I’d be the Post Office clerk to her management, the Jason to her Kylie, the hunchback to her Esmerelda…’ She sighed, batting away Isaac’s amused grin. ‘Pretty much like now.’

      ‘So she couldn’t handle it when you got a guy.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s a control thing. Insecurity. The thought you might actually be capable of happiness terrifies her. Trust me: it says more of Emily than it does of you.’

      ‘The irony is, she wasn’t always idolised at school—it was only when she was the first one to get tits and all the boys wanted to date her. Before that she used to get called Windy Rear in the playground!’

      ‘Nice!’

      Julia smiled. ‘Even though part of me wanted to join in calling her names, I didn’t. I was always her friend. And then see how she repaid me.’

      ‘You’ve got to get over it.’ The pizzas came. ‘I see why you don’t like her, but the fact is you’re in the same business so you’re bound to run into each other—’

      ‘It’s a jinx. This is the third time we’ve worked together. I mean once, just once, I want to be the one that matters.’

      Isaac watched her. ‘You are the one that matters.’

      ‘Well.’ She prodded her pizza, her appetite gone. ‘I’m not convinced.’

      Isaac had invites to an album launch in Soho.

      ‘Come on, it’ll be fun!’

      ‘I don’t know, I should probably get a cab…’

      ‘Are you drunk?’

      ‘A bit.’

      ‘If you go home now, you’ll only wake up with a headache. Let’s go.’

      They went. Outside the event, a band of paparazzi stood around smoking. They clicked on autopilot as Julia entered, recognising her from a Dickens adaptation she’d been in at Christmas. Emily had been in it, too. It was a matter of seconds before they made the connection.

      ‘What can you tell us about Emily Windermere and Christopher Fenwick? Are the rumours true? Will we see them tonight?’

      Isaac took her hand and steered her through. Julia swallowed a lump of embarrassment: yet again, the moment she attracted one ounce of interest, there Emily was, waiting in the wings to stride on and ruin it all.

      ‘Come on,’ he said, lifting two drinks from a passing tray. ‘Let’s count how many egos it’s possible to fit in one room.’

      Inside, the bar was lofty with sloped, beamed ceilings and a high mezzanine. The place was packed with familiar faces, pop starlets and presenters, comedians and reality TV sensations. Journalists were working the space, bulbs flashing at a procession of VIPS being positioned on a lip-shaped couch. Two topless male models with chests of golden steel posed with models and socialites.

      ‘D’you think it’ll be like this tomorrow?’ Julia asked as they settled on a couple of stools. A girl in a fifties prom dress came up with a tray of retro sweets. Julia sifted out a candy necklace and wound it round her wrist.

      ‘What’s happening tomorrow?’

      ‘The charity ball. It starts at six.’

      Isaac rolled his eyes. ‘Do we even have to be there? It’s not like we’ve got to do anything. I thought it was all about Emily and Christopher.’ He held his hands up. ‘And that is the last time her name gets mentioned tonight.’

      Julia bit off one of the sweets. ‘I might go anyway,’ she said. ‘Check it out.’

      ‘Seriously?’

      ‘Why not?’

      Isaac squinted at her. ‘You’re not planning anything stupid, are you?’

      ‘Like what?’

      ‘I don’t know. That’s what worries me.’

      Julia stirred her drink. ‘Emily’s going to be in front of the nation, doing what she does best and doing it to perfection. What could possibly go wrong?’

      ‘Well, if you’re going, I’m going.’

      ‘Yeah?’

      ‘Yeah.’ He nicked his chin with a thumb. ‘You know, Julia…’

      ‘Hmm?’

      ‘I want to be there. For you. If you’re going to find it hard.’

      ‘You don’t need to be—’

      ‘Like I said, I want to.’ He was looking at her funnily, as if he expected her to get something obvious. ‘I always want to be with you,’ he continued carefully, ‘because when I’m with you I feel better than I do with anyone else. Do you get what I’m saying?’

      She thought she did. Only, it couldn’t be true. Isaac was good-looking and funny and popular—no one had ever said anything like that to her before.

      Julia watched him, waiting for the punchline, searching for the joke, but his gaze was steady. A tentative smile began to spread across her face, but before she had time to articulate her response Isaac’s mouth was on hers and he was kissing her.

      Chapter Seven

      Emily would never tire of the buzz of a live TV appearance. She’d done it countless times and never got nervous, but the anticipation of knowing you were about to be broadcast into countless living rooms across the country invoked a peculiar, addictive sort of adrenalin. Power, Christopher had diagnosed not twenty-four hours earlier when they had wrapped their scenes for the day. In those moments, darling, you can say or do anything and they can’t do a thing to stop it. You could plant an idea, you could sow a revolution; you could change the world!

      Emily wasn’t interested in changing the world. The world changed for her.

      One thing of which she was starting to tire, however, was Christopher. She found she got easily weary of men once the initial chase was done, once they had told her how stunning and perfect she was over and over again and they’d experimented with every conceivable sexual position so there was no more mystery to uncover. That was the point at which she became aware of Christopher’s breath in her face and the fact he had hairs growing out of his nose, if you looked closely.

      Her stylist had brought a selection of outfits and laid them out now for Emily to choose from. It was refreshing to be able to model her own clothes—recently it had felt as if the Heriscombe House production were taking over her life—and perused the options.

      Burberry pearl dress: ‘Too frumpy.’ Ghost knee-length tunic: ‘Too officey.’ Lacy Elie Saab number not a million miles from what her character might wear: ‘Too Lucinda Liddell!’

      She raised a beautiful beaded Julien Macdonald.

      ‘I suppose this will have to do.’ She sighed. It was slightly shorter than she’d wanted—tonight Emily was determined to give the right impression, of a girl who would never contemplate getting involved