The Ninety Days of Genevieve by Lucinda Carrington Read Free Book Online Page A

doubt if she could really trust that promise.
    'Maybe men find her big, floppy bottom attractive, but I think it looks positively grotesque. And those tights! If I had a figure like that I'd wear a tent.'
    Genevieve could hear Clare's harsh voice through the wooden walls of the sauna. She knew who Clare was talking about, and was comforted to know that at least it wasn't her.
    'She's always got some man in tow,' another voice commented. 'Obviously some of them like acres of flesh.'
    'You might as well go to bed with a whale,' Clare brayed. 'It would probably have more imagination too.'
    Genevieve bundled her things together and left the spacious changing-room. Why did women have to be so bitchy? The woman Clare was discussing had often smiled and spoken to her, although Genevieve had no idea of her name. She had always seemed pleasant and friendly. She was certainly large, but not unattractive, and Genevieve knew that many men certainly did like a partner with more than ample curves.
    She suddenly remembered one of Sinclair's comments. What was it he had said? 'I imagined how your bottom would look if I stripped you?' She felt her face growing warm at the thought. It should have annoyed her. What a cheek, treating her as if she was a piece of meat in the market, assuming that she would be available to him when he snapped his fingers.
    Somehow the idea of his self-confidence excited her. Very politically incorrect, she thought, but then we're thinking fantasy here. In real life, I'm still in control. I've got my flat, my career, my choices. I can even terminate this ninety-day agreement if I want to.
    And if I did, she wondered, would Sinclair really take his account elsewhere? Was he really going to base his decision entirely on her compliance? It had seemed believable when he suggested it, but, she remembered, she had been in a rather compromising position and her mind had not been wholly on business matters.
    Maybe she should not have believed him so easily.
    She expected to hear from Sinclair quite quickly, but the days passed and he did not contact her either at her office or at home. She began to get irritable, and then angry. Had George been right? Was he simply using her? Had it amused him to trick her into humiliating herself? Was that all he wanted? A private little victory? The pleasure of knowing that he could tie a woman to a door and make love to her? Get her to dress up in leather bondage gear to please him?
    So she had enjoyed it, she remembered crossly, but he didn't know that, and she certainly wasn't going to tell him. As far as he was concerned she had simply been fulfilling her part of their agreement. Did that agreement still stand? She was no longer sure, and her pride would not let her contact him in order to find out.
    She tried not to think about him. During her solitary lunch breaks at the pub she read a magazine or a book, and deliberately avoided socialising. When she saw Ricky Croft heading towards her with a large smile on his face she felt her heart sink. He was obviously very pleased with himself.
    She suddenly had a horrible feeling that he had contacted Sinclair with his drawings and pretended that she had sent him. Ricky would lie and name drop if it suited him, she knew that from the past. Maybe that was why Sinclair had not contacted her again. He had promised to keep their agreement confidential and obviously expected her to do the same.
    'Mind if I join you?' Ricky sat down opposite her.
    'Do I have a choice?' she asked. At least he did not have his portfolio with him this time, she noticed. She carried on eating her roll.
    He grinned at her. 'Guess what?'
    'You've sold some of your drawings?' she said.
    'All of them. Guess who to?'
    To James Sinclair, of course, she thought. But if you've told him I recommended you, I'll strangle you. Right here and now.
    'To Jade Chalfont,' Ricky said.
    'Who?' Genevieve stared at Ricky blankly.
    Ricky's infuriating grin did not waver. 'Not up on the