Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic 5-Book Bundle Read Online Free PDF

bank she was supposed to be promoting, and started talking enthusiastically about one of their competitors. The man from the bank looked crosser and crosser, while all the journalists pissed themselves laughing. Suze got in big trouble over that. In fact, that’s when she decided PR wasn’t the career for her. (The other way of putting it is that Luke Brandon gave her the sack as soon as they got back to London. Another reason not to like him.)
    But the two of us had a whale of a time sloshing back wine until the early hours. Actually, Suze had a secret little weep at about two A.M. and said she was hopeless at every job she’d tried and what was she going to do? I said I thought she was
far
too interesting and creative to be one of those snooty Brandon C girls. Which I wasn’t just saying to be nice, it’s completely true. I gave her a big hug and she cried some more, then we both cheered up and ordered another bottle of wine, and tried on all each other’s clothes. I lent Suze my belt with the square silver buckle, which, come to think of it, she’s never given back. And we kept in touch ever since.
    Then, when Julia suddenly upped and ran off with the professor supervising her Ph.D. (she was a dark horse, that one), Suze suggested I move in with her. I’m sure the rent she charges is too low, but I’ve never insisted I pay the full market rate, because I couldn’t afford it. As market rates go, I’m nearer Elephant andCastle than Fulham on my salary. How can normal people afford to live in such hideously expensive places?
    “Bex, open it up!” Suze is begging. “Let me see!” She’s grabbing inside the bag with eager long fingers, and I pull it away quickly before she rips it. This bag is going on the back of my door along with my other prestige carrier bags, to be used in a casual manner when I need to impress. (Thank God they didn’t print special “Sale” bags. I
hate
shops that do that. What’s the point of having a posh bag with “Sale” splashed all over it?)
    Very slowly, I take the dark green box out of the bag, remove the lid, and unfold the tissue paper. Then, almost reverentially, I lift up the scarf. It’s beautiful. It’s even more beautiful here than it was in the shop. I drape it around my neck and grin stupidly at Suze.
    “Oh, Bex,” she murmurs. “It’s gorgeous!”
    For a moment we are both silent. It’s as though we’re communing with a higher being. The god of shopping.
    Then Suze has to go and ruin it all.
    “You can wear it to see James this weekend,” she says.
    “I can’t,” I say almost crossly, taking it off again. “I’m not seeing him.”
    “How come?”
    “I’m not seeing him anymore.” I try to give a nonchalant shrug.
    “Really?” Suze’s eyes widen. “Why not? You didn’t tell me!”
    “I know.” I look away from her eager gaze. “It’s a bit … awkward.”
    “Did you chuck him? You hadn’t even shagged him!” Suze’s voice is rising in excitement. She’s desperate to know. But am I desperate to tell? For a moment I consider being discreet. Then I think, oh, what the hell?
    “I know,” I say. “That was the problem.”
    “What do you mean?” Suze leans forward. “Bex, what are you talking about?”
    I take a deep breath and turn to face her.
    “He didn’t want to.”
    “Didn’t fancy you?”
    “No. He—” I close my eyes, barely able to believe this myself. “He doesn’t believe in sex before marriage.”
    “You’re joking.” I open my eyes to see Suze looking at me in horror—as if she’s just heard the worst profanity known to mankind. “You are joking, Becky.” She’s actually pleading with me.
    “I’m not.” I manage a weak smile. “It was a bit embarrassing, actually. I kind of … pounced on him, and he had to fight me off.”
    The cringingly awful memory which I had successfully suppressed starts to resurface. I’d met James at a party a few weeks back, and this was the crucial third date. We’d been