True Colours Read Online Free PDF Page B

lost hours, it was bound to be hours…’I’ve got a load on.’
    ‘ Oh darling, how can you say that?’ Caroline pouted, ‘I’ve got so much to go through. I really want to finalise the colours for the flowers and the tables. And the wine. Daddy needs to know whether you want the ’96 or the 2000 so he can get it shipped over. They’re terribly busy at the moment. Did you look at the invitations? We need to send them out by the end of next week at the latest and we haven’t even agreed the final list yet.’
    ‘ Do we? Good God. I’ve had a quick look at them. The gold’s good,’ Sebastian paused, then raced on...’But the invitation is so important. It needs to be right…’ shooting Caroline his guaranteed-to-make-women-cave-in smile, Sebastian continued, ‘can I think about them for a few days?’
    Caroline’s snort was like a racehorse objecting to going into the stalls. Tactfully ignoring it, Sebastian’s voice became smooth, cajoling.
    ‘ You’re putting so much work into this darling that I want it all to be right. Surely a few days won’t make any difference. Most of your friends already have the date marked and their flights booked; they’re dying to see what marvels you produce.’
    Flattery worked every time with Caroline, and Sebastian knew it. Smiling modestly, she sashayed over to the desk, the ultra-high heels on her suede boots skidding on the smooth floor like nails on a chalkboard. Leaning on the edge of his desk, she blew him an exaggerated kiss.
    ‘ Just don’t take too long deciding darling. Now chop chop...’
    Reaching for his jacket, slung over the back of his chair, Sebastian grinned back at her, catching Jocelyn’s surprised expression Feeling the need to explain he said, ‘I’d just like the old man to have a look, he might have something to say about them. Half the guests are his business associates. Wouldn’t want to offend him, would we?’
     

 
    FIVE
    ‘ Room service?’
    The man who had hated Sebastian Wingfield for as long as he could remember cradled the phone on his shoulder as he wrestled his navy silk tie loose.
    ‘ Yes sir, what can we get you?’
    ‘ Steak sandwich, blue. Bottle of red, something good, you choose. Fast as you can.’
    Putting the phone down with a clatter, he pulled the tie free from his collar and threw it onto the crisply made bed, rubbed his hands over his face. It didn’t matter how often he flew, he always found it exhausting. He could feel the stubble already pricking at his palms, a dull ache developing behind his eyes. He needed to hit the gym, was already getting out of shape. And he hated that feeling. That puffiness, the fatigue. So different from when he’d been in the Marines. He’d been at his peak then, training every day.
    But soon enough he’d be able to call his time his own. Soon enough. A slow smile lit his face. Soon enough he’d be the one calling the shots.
    It had taken a lot of planning, but the Wingfields had pissed off enough people over the years, enough people who, when brought together, had the capital to move in on their company. It was just a matter of getting them all organised. And he was almost there.
    The next move was the key one. The trickiest bit – finding that one thing that could be exploited to discredit them. It didn’t need to be big or even completely true, just something that the press could get their teeth into. Then he could drip in the stuff about the factory and the fire, really shake the market’s confidence in the company’s leadership. With any luck, that would be enough for the shareholders to call for Sebastian Wingfield’s resignation, would definitely cause the share value to take a dip, leaving Wingfield Holdings wide open for a takeover.
    A sharp rap on the door interrupted his thoughts. Room service. He nodded half to himself, impressed. They knew him well at this stage. Knew he didn’t like to be kept waiting. But then you got what you paid for in this life and