Armani Angels by Cate Kendall Read Free Book Online

not irritating the hell out of me. Next.’
    Julian entered his flat at three pm, still smiling over the morning’s correspondence and the unending eggshell diplomacy. It may be an emotionally draining job but at least he had every afternoon off when Dame Frances took her siesta. It more than made up for the number of nights out he had to work. Still they were no chore; being the Dame’s function poodle was fun.
    Oscar wouldn’t be home until very late. His job at the law firm was increasingly demanding and Julian fretted for him, especially with his cholesterol level so high.
    Binky sprang into his arms and purred, presumably grateful that someone was finally back to admire his gorgeousness.
    Julian zapped a late lunch of Lean Cuisine Vegetable Cannelloni, picked up the remote and he and Binky curled up on the sofa to watch last night’s TiVo of Dancing with the Stars .
    Julian’s life was good. He and Oscar were happy together, Binky was the only baby they’d ever need and his job, although sometimes a bit busy, was sheer bliss. How easy to be personal assistant to a rich old lady, helping her float around Melbourne’s social scene. Oscar told him he was too much of a pushover, that he let Dame Frances walk all over him. But Julian didn’t mind. Sometimes her requests were a bit much but he was proud to be entrusted with all the intricacies of the Dame’s life.
    According to Oscar, personal assistants in his law firm didn’t even make coffee for their bosses nowadays; it was too beneath them. But Julian liked the Dame and let her digs and nastiness just slide off him. He had a job he loved, a man he loved and plenty of time left in each day for shopping – what more could he wish for?

Raucous laughter broke out just as Gemma pushed open the door to the bar. She was immediately assailed by a waft of warm air, ripe with the smell of Friday night drinks and too many bodies squeezed into a small space.
    The Bot, in trendy South Yarra, was the place to be after work on a Friday. Gemma weaved her way through the throng of overexposed cleavage and charcoal suits, wincing at the blaring doof-doof music and sidestepping to avoid her new Manolo mules being stilettoed. Her navy Jil Sander jersey sheath dress would absorb the body stink of the crowd if she didn’t slip by quickly.
    God, is everyone in this bloody place twenty-seven? she wondered, shouldering her way through. The familiar feeling of panic started to build in her chest as she took in the fake laughter, the overdone faces and the try-hard guys with their hair product and Calvin Klein cologne.
    Since seeing the doctor, Gemma had tried to cut back on coffee, but it was a hard habit to break. However, even just cutting down to half her usual caffeine intake had reduced the waves of anxiety. Except right now, she thought as she got caught between two broad-shouldered blokes swapping stock tips loudly over the intense music.
    â€˜Excuse me,’ she said, pushing past. The men ignored her and carried on their conversation over her head, holding their drinks out to one side to prevent spills as Gemma fought past them.
    This was Mercedes’s stupid idea, Gemma grumbled as she finally got to the end of the long room and made her way to the Bubble Bar.
    It was Mercedes’s birthday and in typical fashion she had arranged the night, invited the girls and would then no doubt sit back, sip sparkling and not lift a credit card all evening. Gemma wondered how she’d become such close friends with the woman.
    She thought back to their meeting; Gemma had had a last-minute hair disaster and rushed into the nearest salon. Mercedes had saved her social life that day and Gemma had been so grateful that she’d given her two tickets to a nightclub opening. In the end Mercedes had invited Gemma to go with her and they’d had a ball, drinking shooters, flirting innocently with good-looking guys and dancing all night long.