Ruthless by Jessie Keane

her life. Layla was nineteen now – a young woman. Things between them were still . . . well, frigid would be a good word for it. Layla was polite but distant. No more, no less. She had a job in an accountancy firm, she was hyper-bright, could add a column of figures in record time.
    As for Annie . . . well, she’d learned to drive. Bought herself a top-of-the-range car. Treated herself to some designer gear: a few Yves St Laurent pieces, a lot of Chanel, some cunningly constructed items from Betty Jackson and Balenciaga. She indulged in high-end holidays, regularly jetted back and forth to the States, checked out the Times Square club, visited with Alberto her stepson, made something of a life for herself.
    And . . . she’d started dating.
    She glanced at her date as he paid the bill, left a hefty tip for their waiter. No, her date wasn’t mean. But he’d been rude and snappy to the poor little bastard more than once this evening, trying no doubt to impress her or maybe the other diners with his standing as a gourmand, his expectation of only ever receiving the very best. David Fairbright. Good-looking, wealthy but not mean with his money, and tall – taller than Max.
    Shit, now why had she thought of him?
    As they went out to the taxi, she pushed her ex-husband out of her mind.
    ‘Nice dinner,’ David said as they sat in the back of the cab on its way to Holland Park.
    ‘Lovely,’ she replied, although she couldn’t even remember what she’d eaten. And his treatment of the waiter had annoyed her.
    ‘You haven’t been there before?’ he asked.
    ‘No. Never.’
    Silence fell. Silence had been falling between them all evening, and it wasn’t an easy companionable one either. The fact was, he didn’t know what to say to her and she wasn’t interested enough to come up with something to say to him. Annie suspected that he found her slightly intimidating. A lot of men did. She was wealthy in her own right, and some men – David included, she thought, for all his pumped-up self-importance and yes he was a bit of a bolshy git – couldn’t handle that.
    That, and her background. Which was colourful, to say the least.
    They’d talked on their first date, about their divorces. She had mentioned Max’s name. And she suspected that since then David had been doing a little homework, because he seemed a fraction cooler this time. Now that he knew about Max, and about her, she suspected their second date would also be their last.
    The taxi pulled up outside the Holland Park house. Annie got out, and David did too, paying off the taxi driver, who drove away.
    Annie walked up the steps to the big navy-blue double doors, getting her key out of her bag. What the hell had he sent the taxi away for? Suddenly all she wanted was for him to be gone, to just be alone.
    On the step underneath the porch light, he took her hand. Then, to her surprise, he pulled her in close, and started to kiss her. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and Annie jerked her head away.
    ‘Don’t do that,’ she snapped.
    ‘Oh, come on,’ he said, and she saw him smile. ‘The evening’s been a bit of a disaster so far, but that’s no reason to call it off altogether.’
    He moved forward again. This time Annie shoved him, hard, and he half-staggered down the steps and nearly fell.
    ‘What the fuck’s wrong with you?’ he said, glaring up at her as he regained his balance.
    ‘Me? Nothing. You? You’re a pushy arsehole looking down your stupid nose at the entire world, and you know what? I don’t like you.’
    She opened the door and went inside, slamming it behind her. She wiped her mouth, irritated at him, at herself too because she’d hated him kissing her but what did she expect? Violins? Heavenly choirs? She marched across the hall and into the study, fell into her chair and picked up the phone on the desk. She dialled.
    ‘Doll?’ she asked when she heard the familiar voice on the other end of the phone.
    ‘How’d it go?’ asked