Liz Fielding - Mistletoe and the Lost Stiletto

A book in the Fun Factor series, 2010

Wednesday, 1st December

Appointments for Miss Lucy Bright

09:30 Beauty salon

12:30 Lunch with Marji Hayes, editor, Celebrity magazine

14:30 Celebrity photoshoot (with my mum!)

16:00 Serafina March, Wedding Designer.

20:00 Dinner at Ritz, guest list attached

Lucy Bright diary entry, 1stDecember:

Wish I could be at press conference for the unveiling of the Lucy B fashion chain this afternoon but, according to Ruperts dragon of a secretary, its for the financial rather than the gossip pages. Which put me in my place. I cant even appeal to Rupert since he wont be flying in until lunchtime. And how come he gets out of the meeting with the ber scary Serafina March? Its his wedding, too.

Stupid question. Hes too busy for girl stuff. Hes been out of the country more than hes been in it for the last month and at this rate Ill be walking up the aisle on my own.

The celebration dinner tonight is, as Im constantly reminded, my moment in the sun and, obviously, a morning being pampered, a luscious lunch with the editor of Celebrity and then a meeting with the wedding designer to the stars meets all the criteria for the fairy tale. I am Lucy Bright. Its my name- Lucy B-thats going to be above the doors of a hundred High Street shops come the spring. So why do I feel as if Im on the outside looking in?

RUBBING at the base of her engagement ring with her thumb so that the huge diamond sparkled, Lucy Bright made an effort to shake off the feeling that things werent quite as fairy tale as media coverage of her romance with Rupert Henshawe would suggest. Determined to shake off the feeling, she logged into Twitter to update her followers on what shed be doing for the rest of the day.

Morning, tweeps! Off to have the curls flattened.

Again. I swear everyone hides when I turn up at the salon! #Cinderella

LucyB, Wed 1 Dec 08:22

Hair straight for the moment. Fab lunch at Ivy. Lots of celebs. Off to meet Mum for photoshoot. Will update blog later. #Cinderella

LucyB, Wed 1 Dec 14:16

PS Dont miss Ruperts Lucy B press launch live on website feed today, tweeps! 4 p.m. Its going to be so exciting. #Cinderella.

LucyB, Wed 1 Dec 14:18

Is that the time? Lucy squeaked.

We are running a little late, miss. Ruperts chauffeur held the umbrella aloft as she ran from the photoshoot to the car.

Little was an understatement. The photographer had been relentless in pursuit of the perfect photograph and she had less than twenty minutes to make the meeting with the wedding planner-sorry, make that wedding designer-to discuss a theme for the big day. While it was acceptable, even necessary, for the bride to arrive late at her wedding, Serafina March did not allow the same latitude where appointments with her were concerned.

Theres no time to go home for the wedding file, Gordon. Well have to stop by the office. Ruperts deadly efficient PA maintained a duplicate in the office. She could borrow that.

LIAR!

The only sound in the room was the clatter of motor drives as tycoon, Rupert-just-call-me-Prince-Charming- Henshawes press conference was hijacked by his fiance, Lucy-I-feel-like-Cinderella-Bright as she tugged off her engagement ring and flung it at him.

Cheat!

Every lens in the room zoomed in on the bright splash of blood where the huge diamond found its mark on Henshawes cheek.

The gathered press pack-city newsmen, financial pundits, television news teams-held their collective breath.

Theyd been summoned to a full dress press conference by the Henshawe Corporation. Whatever Henshawe did was news. Good news if you were one of his shareholders. Bad news if you happened to be on the receiving end of one of his corporate raids. At least until recently.

The news now was all about how hed changed. How, having met his Cinderella, he had been redeemed by love and was no longer Mr Nasty, but had been transformed into Prince Charming.

Boring.

This was much more like it.

Why? Lucy demanded, ignoring the cameras, the mikes, dangled overhead, pushed towards her face. The larger than life-sized images of herself, wearing her own custom-made originals of the Lucy B fashions, being flashed across a screen. All she could see was the man on the podium. Why did you do it?

Stupid question. It was all there in the file shed found. The one she was never meant to see. All laid out in black and white.

Lucy! Darling Ruperts voice was deceptively soft as, using the power of the microphone in front of him, he drowned out her demand to know why her? These are busy people and theyve got deadlines to meet. Theyve come to listen to the plans Ive been making, weve been making, for the future of the company, he stressed. Not a domestic tiff.

His smile was tender, all concern for her. It was familiar, reassuring and even now it would be so easy to be sucked in

I dont know whats upset you but its obvious that youre tired. Let Gordon take you home and well talk about it later, hmm?

She had to fight the almost hypnotic softness of his voice. Her own weakness. Her longing for the fairy tale that had overtaken her life, transformed her into a celebrity, to be true.

She had a Lucy B fan page on Facebook, half a million people following her every word on Twitter. She was a modern day Cinderella, whisked from the hearth to a palace, her rags replaced with silken gowns. But Prince Charmings bride ball had been a palace-generated crowd-pleaser, too. There was nothing like a royal wedding to keep the masses happy.

It was exactly the kind of stunt to appeal to some super-smart PR woman with a name to make for herself.

Talk! she hurled back as someone obligingly stuck a microphone in front of her, giving her equal voice power. I dont want to talk to you, Rupert Henshawe! I never even want to see you again. She held up the file for him to see. So that he would know that there was no point in denying it. I know what youve done. I know everything!

Even as the words left her mouth, Lucy sensed the mood in the room change. No one was looking at the podium now. Or Rupert. Shed stolen his limelight. Shed stormed into this plush hotel, her head exploding with the discovery that her new and exciting life, their engagement, the whole shooting match, was nothing more than a brilliantly executed marketing plan. The focus was now on her as she put an end to a sham smoke-and-mirrors engagement that was as false as his new man change of heart.

Rupert Henshawe had no heart.

But, as the attention of the room shifted to her, it belatedly occurred to Lucy that this might not have been her best move.

In the months following her whirlwind romance with her billionaire boss she had become used to the press, but this was different. Until now shed been supported every step of the way, whether the interviews had been personal or about her new role as the face, and name, on his re-branded chain of fashion stores.

When shed gate-crashed this press conference, she hadnt had a thought in her but to confront the man who had so shamelessly used her.

Now the focus point of every lens, every eye in the room, she suddenly felt alone, vulnerable and all she wanted to do was escape. Escape from the lies, the cameras, the microphones. Disappear. But, as she stepped back, attempting to distance herself from Rupert, from everyone, she stumbled over someones foot.