Read Online Gold Diggers by Tasmina Perry - Free Book Online

woollen cape floating over a long, deep burgundy dress, her creamy round breasts spilling over its corset. For so many years, Summer had seemed like baggage. Having a daughter aged her, so from a young age Molly had urged her daughter to call her by her name rather than ‘mother’ so that people wouldn’t suspect she was her child. But ever since Summer had blossomed into such a gorgeous young woman, she had become a definite asset. She could take her daughter to any party in town and men would be buzzing around them like wasps at a picnic. But Summer was more than bait to attractthe big fish. Since Japan, she had a new confidence, a new glow that could potentially catch her a really big prize, maybe even a prince – and if she did, that would open doors for Molly. Because where there’s a prince, there’s gotta be a king , she thought with a sly smile.
    ‘We do have tickets, don’t we?’ asked Summer, feeling nervous as she saw the two burly bouncers at the door.
    ‘Don’t worry, darling,’ smiled Molly, adjusting her dress to show a little more cleavage. Not having a ticket had never presented a problem to Molly in twenty-five years of partying. A confident swagger and a generous flash of skin counted far more than any bit of embossed card.
    ‘Time to come back inside,’ smiled Molly to the older guard, stroking his lapel as if it was made out of the softest silk. ‘I just needed to step outside for a moment.’
    And they were in, gliding across the threshold without so much as a grunt. Molly still frowned, however. She had been expecting to be met by a swell of people milling around the communal areas, but there was quiet all around the entrance hall, just a few black-tied waiters clearing glasses in the flickering candlelight.
    ‘Mum, I think people are still eating,’ hissed Summer. ‘What do we do now?’
    A little annoyed at having misjudged the time that dinner was to finish, Molly grabbed her daughter’s hand and pulled her towards the large French double doors that led to the main hall.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘we’ll slip in at the back and find a seat.’ Summer stood hovering at the door, cursing her mother for getting her into yet another embarrassing situation. She knew everyone at the dinner tables would be with their friends and that interlopers would be spotted immediately.
    ‘Come on, I think the auction is about to begin,’ hissedMolly, scanning the tables for empty spaces. They crept to the back of the room until they found two seats. Table eighty-three. The eight other faces at the table turned to look at them with quizzical expressions. Molly turned to the gentleman on her right. He was portly, around sixty with a ruddy complexion and a sweep of white hair pulled over like a 1940s comedian.
    ‘I hope you don’t mind us taking a pew for a moment,’ she said softly, flashing her cover-girl smile. ‘We’re with the charity. We’ve been rushed off our feet backstage and wanted to pop out and see the auction – do you mind?’
    ‘Not at all, not at all,’ the man blustered. ‘You must be parched,’ he added, reaching for a bottle of red.
    Molly took a sip of the fruity wine and smirked at her daughter.
    Summer looked up as applause rippled down the room. Tom Archer, Britain’s sexiest Oscar-winning actor, was walking to a podium that had been set up at the end of the catwalk.
    ‘The theme of tonight is compassion,’ said Tom, when the cheering had died down. ‘Not partying or dinner or catching up with old friends, or even the wine, although I must say it is rather splendid.’ The crowd chuckled appreciatively as he lifted his glass. Behind the actor, images of climate change flickered onto huge projection screens: melting glaciers, incinerated rainforest, chimneys pumping out black smoke. Molly used the moment to glance around the room. She recognized a least a quarter of the faces. There was the Cipriani crowd, the White Cube crowd, the San Lorenzo crowd, the