The Helen Bianchin Collection

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HELEN BIANCHIN

Год написания книги

2018

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‘I’m not into ego-stroking,’ Katrina proffered with pseudo sweetness.

‘And you think I am?’

Katrina didn’t bother to answer, and watched as Georgia offered a practised smile, then turned and melted into the milling guests.

‘That went down well.’

Nicos spared her a dark glance. ‘She’s courting trouble.’

‘And you won’t stand for it?’ Katrina queried, feeling the anger stir beneath a veneer of social politeness.

‘No.’

‘I think I need to go visit the powder room.’

‘Effecting a temporary escape?’

‘Right first time.’

She’d learned from an early age to pin a smile on her face and hold her head high… Years of practice meant ease in acquiring a social façade. It was a game, a pretense, and she did it well.

It helped her greet a few acquaintances as she threaded her way through the fellow guests, to pause and converse briefly with a one or two.

The powder room was relatively empty, and Katrina smoothed a hand over her hair, took time to freshen her lipstick, and was about to retreat when the inner door swung open and Georgia entered the room.

Coincidence? Unlikely. This was a deliberate move on the model’s part to initiate a one-on-one confrontation.

She could escape, but why, when Georgia was determined to have her say?

‘I imagine there’s a purpose to you following me here?’

‘Of course.’

‘So why don’t you get it over with?’

‘The terms of your late father’s will must be a terrible trial to you.’ Georgia inclined with practised languidness.

The game was about to commence. It took two to play, and she was determined not to lose. ‘In what way?’

‘Why…sharing the same house with Nicos, of course.’

Attack was better than defence. ‘After he betrayed me?’

‘Difficult, darling. Surely?’

‘We agreed to compromise,’ Katrina said steadily.

‘Oh?’

‘And enjoy the fringe benefits.’

‘Such as?’

‘Sex.’ She even managed to effect a secretive smile. ‘Nicos does the sex thing superbly well.’

Georgia’s eyes narrowed. One to Katrina. But how long before the model evened the score?

‘Agreed, darling. But can you be sure it’s you he’s thinking of at that…ah…’ she paused for effect ‘…intense moment,’ she concluded with delicate emphasis.

Too soon, Katrina acknowledged.

‘How can you compete,’ Georgia continued archly, pitilessly, ‘when I have his son?’

‘Has that been proven conclusively?’

‘Why else would our individual lawyers be in the throes of hammering out a settlement and child support?’

Not so good, she conceded, aware just how the odds were stacked against her. ‘And where is your son, Georgia? Isn’t he a little young to leave with a sitter?’

‘My mother flew in from Brisbane with me. Naturally I have a nanny.’

Naturally. Whatever happened to hands-on motherhood?

‘If you’re so important to Nicos,’ she said carefully, ‘why didn’t he initiate divorce proceedings as soon as I left him?’

‘How can you be so sure he didn’t?’ Georgia countered. ‘A legal separation doesn’t require documentation, other than a noting of the date both parties live apart. The Australian legal system recognises a decree nisi application one year after the date of separation.’

‘In which case, our reconciliation has thrown a spanner in the works.’

Georgia mentally sharpened her claws and aimed for the kill. ‘Not really, darling. A year isn’t long in the scheme of things. I’m prepared to let him have you for a while.’ Her smile was pure feline. ‘After all, I’ll get to keep him for a lifetime.’

‘You’re that confident?’

‘Determined,’ the model assured.

Katrina felt sickened. ‘What makes you think I’ll give him up so easily?’

‘You did before. Why should this time be any different?’ A soft laugh slipped from her carefully painted mouth. ‘Oh, darling,’ she chastised with pitying candour, ‘you’re not going to fight for him, are you? It would be such a demeaning exercise.’

‘Demeaning to whom?’

There was a telling silence, then Georgia pursued softly, ‘I play to win.’

‘So do I.’

The model took a deliberate minute to check out her mirrored reflection before meeting Katrina’s unwavering gaze. ‘Then, we shall see who takes the prize.’

As an exit line it was a doozey.