India Grey - Champagne Summer

‘But why did you put yourself forward?’ someone at the front persisted. ‘You’re best known for designing evening dresses worn by celebrities on the red carpet. It’s quite a leap from that to top-level sports kit, wouldn’t you say?’

She’d been expecting this question, and yet the hostility of the tone in which it was asked seriously got to her. She wondered if the microphone just in front of her was picking up the ominous thud of her heart.

‘Absolutely,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘And that was exactly why I wanted the commission. I’d built up my own label from nothing, and I was ready for the next challenge.’

‘Was it the challenge you wanted, or the money? Rumour has it that the recent spate of high-street copies has hit Coronet hard.’

Tamsin felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. The bright lights of the cameras made it hard to see anything beyond the front row, but that was probably just as well. Lying was easier if you didn’t have to make eye contact.

‘Coronet’s designs are as in demand as ever,’ she said coldly. ‘My business partner, Sally Fielding, is already handling requests for next year’s Oscars and BAFTAs.’

All that was true. Sally had been approached by several stylists in Hollywood and London, but, since all of them expected dresses to be donated for nothing more than the kudos of seeing them on the red carpet, it didn’t help Coronet’s cash flow. But there was no time to dwell on that now. If she let her focus lapse for a second this lot would tear her limb from limb.

‘Would you agree that your background as a womenswear designer had an obvious influence on this commission?’ another voice asked.

Thank goodness; a straightforward question .

Tamsin was just about to answer when the speaker continued, assuming an outrageously camp tone. ‘The oversized rose-motif and the dewdrops on the rugby shirts are simply to die for, aren’t they?’

A ripple of laughter went around the room. Tamsin’s patience was stretched almost to its limit.

‘Maybe it might be an issue for any guys who aren’t quite confident about their masculinity,’ she said sweetly. ‘Fortunately, that doesn’t include any of the team. The dewdrops, as you call them, are small rubberised dots that maximize grip for line-outs and scrums. But you’re right—my background in couture has been influential. The starting point for any design is the fabric, and this was no different. Working in association with Alan here, and experts in the States, we sourced some of the most technologically advanced fabrics in the world.’

The room was quieter now. People were listening, scribbling things down as she spoke. A bolt of elation shot through her. ‘We started with tightly fitting base-layer garments beneath the outer kit,’ she continued, her voice gaining strength. This was safe ground. Whatever poisonous comments people could make about who she was or where she came from, no one could say she didn’t know her subject. ‘These are made from a fabric which actually improves the oxygenation of the blood by absorbing negative ions from the player’s skin. It also prevents lactic acid build up, improving performance and stamina.’

‘So why did England lose yesterday?’ someone sneered from the back.

Because Alejandro D’Arienzo was playing for the opposition .

Tamsin’s mouth was open, and for a terrible moment she thought she’d actually said that out loud. Casting a surreptitious, panicky glance around, she realised that the cameras were now pointing at the coach, who was talking about form, injury and training. Thank goodness. She picked up the mini bottle of water from the table in front of her and took a long mouthful, grateful for a moment of reprieve. On the pad in front of her she’d unconsciously been sketching the outline of an elongated female figure, and looking at it now she felt a wave of anguish. All the critics were right, she thought miserably, adding a drapey flourish of fabric falling from one shoulder of the figure. She didn’t belong here. She should be back in the studio with all the team, working on next autumn’s collection.

The pen faltered in her hand as dread prickled the back of her neck. If the business was still going then. The RFU commission had helped appease the bank a bit, but …

She gave a small start, dimly aware of Alan’s gentle nudge. ‘Tamsin? This one’s for you.’

She blinked and looked ahead into the gloom beyond the dazzle of the camera lights. ‘Sorry? Could you repeat the question, please?’

‘Of course. I wondered—’ the voice was leisurely, unhurried. ‘—did you encounter any particular problems in the production of the strip?’

A hand seemed to close around her throat so that for a moment she could hardly breathe, much less answer. There was no mistaking that deep, mocking, husky voice with its hint of Spanish sensuality. ‘No,’ she said sharply, her eyes raking the darkness, trying to locate him.

‘None at all?’

He stepped forward, people standing around the edges of the room beyond the rows of chairs moving aside to let him through. His eyes, bruised and shadowed, burned into hers with laser-like intensity that belied the lazy challenge in his voice, and Tamsin noticed with a thud of sheer horror that in his hand he held the shirt.

The missing number-ten shirt.

The treacherous, sadistic, ruthless, vindictive bastard . For a moment she was speechless with loathing. He was trying to force her to admit, in front of people who were already cynical enough about her ability, that she had messed up.

As if he hadn’t humiliated her enough.

‘No,’ she repeated coolly, lifting her chin and meeting his gaze head-on. ‘I was lucky that the manufacturing team was excellent, and the whole production process was very straightforward. When working with very specialised fabrics like these, technical problems with dye or finishes are almost to be expected, but in this instance I managed to anticipate all potential issues and as a result there were no problems at all.’

There . She stared defiantly at him, daring him to say anything to the contrary. After all, if he did, that would betray the fact that he had inside information, which would be an extremely unwise move to make in front of a room full of journalists.

Tamsin’s heart was pounding. She watched him glance down at the shirt in his hand, and back up again. Back at her. His face was like stone.

‘I see. You had an excellent team. Does that mean that your involvement in this commission was merely nominal?’

‘No, it does not,’ she said in a low, fierce voice. Beside her, Tamsin heard her father make a sharp sound of impatience and disgust, and was aware of him leaning over to whisper something to the RFU official on his other side. She knew that at the smallest signal from her he would summon security to remove Alejandro D’Arienzo from the room, but the knowledge gave her no satisfaction. She didn’t want him to go anywhere before she’d made him see that she was more than just a dizzy, vacant heiress playing at having a grown-up job.

‘In that case,’ said Alejandro smoothly, ‘may I assume that you’re available for other commissions of a similar kind?’

‘What do you mean?’

The rest of the room was watching—waiting with the same morbid fascination that make people slow down when they passed a road accident, Tamsin thought bitterly. She felt like a cat who had been lured into the lion’s cage at the zoo and was about to be devoured in front of a crowd of avid onlookers.

‘Miss Calthorpe—sorry, Lady Calthorpe.’ Alejandro’s voice was husky, seductive, eminently reasonable. Only she could sense the barbs beneath the silk. ‘You’ve convinced us all that you won this contract fairly and have been single-handedly responsible for seeing it through every stage from design to completion. I’m sure I’m not alone in admiring the results of your work.’ There was a murmur of grudging assent from the rows of reporters. Tamsin felt irritation prickle up her spine as she noticed the rapt expressions on their faces as they looked up at Alejandro. ‘I’m one of the sponsors of Los Pumas—the Argentine rugby team,’ he was saying, ‘And I’d like to invite you to redesign their strip for their relaunch next season.’