Read Online Armani Angels by Cate Kendall - Free Book Online Page B

‘Ah, you too. It’s truly music to slash your wrists by,’ she quipped.
    Gemma smiled in spite of herself and plugged the kettle in to make a cup of tea.
    â€˜It helps to laugh, but to be honest I’m struggling,’ Laura admitted. ‘This was the last straw for Matty and he knew it, but I don’t even know what that means. If I ground him, he just ignores me and goes out. What can I do? He’s bigger than I am.’
    â€˜What about his dad?’ Gemma asked.
    Laura’s voice tightened. ‘No dad, just me.’
    â€˜Oh, okay,’ Gemma tried to cover the awkward moment. ‘But I know what you mean about them being so big all of a sudden. Tyler is almost 185 centimetres and walks around like his world’s about to end.’
    â€˜Yeah, Matty too. The last time I saw him happy was when . . .’ Laura paused, ‘well, probably at Christmas three years ago.’
    â€˜You know, we should probably meet and talk this through properly,’ Gemma suggested, moving to the front hallway to continue her conversation as Stephen came into the kitchen looking for a snack.
    â€˜Yeah, sure, might help. Can’t hurt. I thought I’d have a handle on life by the time I was older and wiser but I feel like I’m more of a dozey twenty-year-old than ever.’
    â€˜Don’t I know it,’ Gemma responded with a chuckle. ‘I have your email from the class list. Let’s set up something for next week.’
    The women hung up and Gemma stared out of the window. Laura Gillespie sounded like a solid, down-to-earth woman, with quite a dry sense of humour; joining forces with her was definitely a step in the right direction.

Mercedes clicked down Toorak Road to the outdoor mall where her salon sat. As usual she assessed it as she arrived. The early-morning sun flooded the front window. It might be time to update the logo. She loved the name, of course, ‘ Coiffure by Mercedes’ would never change, but the lower-case sans serif font was so early-this-century. It needed to take on a Parisian elaborate look. She’d ring her graphic designer.
    She walked in. Gabby, her receptionist, should have been greeting her at the front desk. She must be in the back office doing the books. Mercedes tsked. She had a very important client first-up, the host of the new morning talk show, and Mercedes needed to make sure the client was greeted properly by the staff on arrival.
    Mercedes had been desperate to provide the salon-to-the-stars ever since her father had bought her the underachieving place ten years ago. Thanks to Gemma’s arrival at the salon, her dream had come true.
    The salon decor suited Mercedes’s personality; it was luxe and Versace-esque, all in black, white and grey. Elaborate black acrylic chandeliers hung from the ceiling, white flokati cushions dotted the grey leather waiting-area couch, the client chairs were black leatherette with shaped backs and rolled arms. The black-and-white-checked granite floor added to the high-end appeal of the place. Her clients loved it here. They knew she was important and it made them feel right at home.
    Mercedes had achieved her goal. A successful business, respect in her industry and a great income. But she still wanted more.
    She picked up her mobile. Was it too early to text Gemma to see what functions were coming up later that week? Gemma made her crazy. She had everything and she took it all for granted.
    Mercedes had once aspired to a high-flying PR career, but as with everything else in her life, she’d wanted it all with minimal work. She’d dropped out of her Marketing degree in her first year to marry wealthy financier, Michael Di Marta. He had promised to set her up in her own PR firm. But the engagement had fallen through when he’d caught her in his office giving a BJ to one of his rather attractive junior executives.
    With her new, glittering life ripped out from under her,