Page 69 of A Night with Damien Spur

‘And what about you?’ Claudia turned to Anna.

‘What about me? Haven’t managed to land a prize yet. Had a date with a disaster a couple of weeks ago! I met him at the National Gallery. Then he asked me for a drink so we went to a bar and all he did was talk about himself. Definitely not my type. But at least you were right about my book. Damien was such a help introducing me to my agent, Justin Baird.’

‘It was good of him to help you,’ Claudia said. ‘In fact, why don’t you ask Damien Spur if the guests can bid for an evening with him? A handsome, celebrated thriller writer. No doubt his company would be very exciting!’

‘I can vouch for that – and I think he would enjoy women bidding for him. Give him a thrill… Okay, I’ll do it,’ Anna said.

Elizabeth raised an elegant eyebrow. ‘Excellent, Anna. Good that you found him entertaining. It will certainly add a little spice to the evening.’

‘And Justin Baird, is he single?’ asked Claudia.

‘I think so,’ Anna replied.

‘Well, ask him to take you to the ball.’

‘The Russians are coming as well,’ Elizabeth said, ‘including Boris and his wife, Lala.’

Claudia gave a wicked laugh. ‘Adam is coming too. Which should be interesting, as I’ve seated Lala between them both. So we could have a dead body at the end of the evening if my dearest ex tries anything.’

‘We’ve planned the date for Sunday, 28 June,’ Elizabeth said. ‘So please get to it with the auction requests.’

She blew Anna and Sophie a kiss and got up from the table. ‘Now then, I’d better go. I have a meeting with a race-horse owner, who has promised to donate half his winnings if his mare Cleopatra wins at Cheltenham.’

Chapter 20

Damien had arrived.

Anna, dressed in black lace and pearls, opened the door and threw her chin back offering each cheek for a kiss.

She had prepared the evening with military precision.

For dinner, her speciality, boeuf bourguignon to be served with mashed potatoes and green beans, accompanied by a red burgundy.

Crystal glasses and silver candlesticks sparkled on the dining table, the centrepiece pale pink roses in a Lalique vase.

She liked to do things properly.

‘Thank you, Damien, for all your help. I think that Justin Baird will be great for me… He’s so enthusiastic about my book.’

‘My pleasure,’ he said.

‘Would you like a whisky?’

‘Yes, please.’ He watched her trip this way and that. His drink first, and then into the kitchen to check the beans. Damien could hear her whistling.

How strange, he thought,this delicate creature trilling like a nightingale.

Back to the sofa she came and sat next to him, with her goo-goo eyes and pink flirty smile, her bare, pretty knees glued together.

Maybe just one more time. He stroked her leg with his littlefinger.

Once Damien had sunk his fork into the tender beef and tasted the sublime dish, Anna knew that he was hers for the evening.

She charmed and flattered, played with his ego, plied him with wine and moving closer said, ‘Will you be a prize?’

‘A prize?’

‘Yes.’

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