Friends & Rivals by Tilly Bagshawe Read Free Book Online Page A

telegenic.
    â€˜I’m coming!’ Joyce gasped, unnecessarily. Her twitching thighs had already imparted this information forcefully to the sides of Ivan’s head. Finally she stopped moving, like an exhausted epileptic at the end of a fit, and slumped back against the chaise longue, panting. Ivan, also panting, headed to the kitchen for a much-needed glass of water.
    Ivan loved his Belgravia flat.
Loved it.
The lateral, two-bedroom apartment on Eaton Gate was his own private lair, his 1,500 square foot kingdom where he could do what – and whom – he pleased. Of course, The Rookery was home and he loved that too. In Oxfordshire, with Catriona, he was grown-up Ivan, husband Ivan, daddy Ivan. The unfortunate incident that Jack had witnessed in the bathroom on the night of his birthday was an anomaly. Usually, Ivan Charles made a point of keeping his two lives, and two selves, utterly separate. Here, in London, he was Ivan the player, Ivan the music mogul. He was, as one of Jester’s interns had rather brilliantly named him, after a brief but passionate affair, Ivan the Terrible. And the Eaton Gate flat was his
palais
d’amour
.
    Every room was filled with mementos of his triumphant career. Here, in the kitchen, two Grammys and a Brit Award gleamed proudly on a shelf above the sink. The drawing room, an elegant Georgian reception space with double-aspect sash windows and original parquet flooring, was littered with framed photographs of Ivan with music industry greats. Ivan and Burt Bacharach hugged on top of the piano, Ivan and Alfie Boe laughed on a yacht on the antique side table. On the wall above the chaise longue, where Joyce Wu lay sprawled in postcoital contentment, Ivan had a paternal arm wrapped around Charlotte Church back in her gawky teenage days.
    Secretly, Ivan longed to be able to line the walls with a different kind of star. The kind of artist that Jack represented for Jester almost exclusively. He wanted to have his picture taken with Will Smith and JLS and Justin Bieber. With Katy Perry and Britney and Kendall Bryce. He wanted to be in the pop world, to be young and contemporary and relevant. Most of all, he wanted to lead Jester out of the dark ages of old school music management and into the new era of reality television, of YouTube virals and multimedia world domination. It was a terrible irony, a travesty really, that he, Ivan, who ‘got’ the pop scene and was excited by the brave new world of free downloads and webcam concerts, should be stuck with an overwhelmingly classical list, while Jack ‘Sam Eagle’ Messenger, he of the paper diaries and computer phobia and all-American family values, should represent such cutting-edge acts as The Blitz and Kendall Coke-Head Bryce. The fact that Ivan’s list made more money than Jack’s was insufficient consolation. Classical fans still bought albums. Pop fans downloaded (aka stole) them. But if only Jack weren’t so pig-headed about Jester diversifying, into the TV world and beyond, Ivan was sure their rock and pop business would blossom exponentially. Tomorrow’s meeting with ITV would be Ivan’s first concrete step into these choppy waters, a step he was taking without his partner’s knowledge, still less his permission. Ivan had a lot riding on it.
    â€˜Sweetheart, I hate to do it, but I’m going to have to ask you to skedaddle.’ Walking back into the drawing room he passed a still-naked Joyce her clothes. ‘I’ve got a ton of work to do this afternoon. Plus the cleaner’s coming in twenty minutes. We wouldn’t want her to find you here and spill the beans to the missus, would we?’
    Poor Ivan
, thought Joyce, pulling a lemon-yellow sundress over her head and stuffing her knickers and bra into her handbag.
Imagine being saddled with an old frump like Catriona and having to sneak around behind her back, just for the sake of the kids. He really is
such
a good