Fortune: The Original Snogbuster
Upgrade your beach reading to first class…Brad Masters is rich. Very, very rich. CEO of the Perfect Cut record label, he owns properties in the Med, the Florida Keys, New York and London. He flies a private jet, drives a collection of supercars and walks nowhere, if he can help it. But there's one thing missing: although he has a string of girlfriends, he doesn't have an heir. And with his sixties rapidly approaching, Brad can no longer convince himself he's immortal…What Brad does have is a past full of indiscretions – and that includes the three women, in three different countries, who gave birth to his three illegitimate daughters. None of them have any claim on him, of course. He paid them off years ago. But that was then, and this is now. As his sixtieth birthday looms, Brad sends off three very special invitations to his party. The question is – which daughter will he choose?
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Fortune
Megan Cole
To every girl who wantsto be somebody.
With thanks to Hannah,for the inspiration.
Table of Contents
New York CityJuly
‘Why the hell shouldn’t I have Botox? It’s my face.’
Nineteen-year-old Madison Vanderbilt, ice-blonde hair cascading down her back, eyed her mother belligerently over the fifteen-foot breakfast bar.
Candy Vanderbilt, a stretched-face forty-something with diamonds dripping from her ears and neck, showed the first bit of common sense she’d had in her life. ‘Honey, don’t you think you’re a little bit young?’
‘Heidi Montag had, like, everything done.’ Madison offered up a smooth, blemish-free face, courtesy of regular facials at the most expensive beauty salon on Fifth Avenue. ‘I’m covered in wrinkles, look!’
Candy frowned, or rather tried to. Her own forehead was so frozen that she had difficulty registering any expression at all. ‘Why don’t you leave it for a few years? Twenty-one is as good a time to start as any.’
‘That’s if I don’t look 112 by then,’ huffed Madison. God, her life sucked! Come July, she’d normally be joining the rest of her friends in the Hamptons for a summer of sunbathing and scoping out hot guys. This year, however, she and her mom were stuck at home in their five-million-dollar apartment in New York. Madison stomped over to the floor-to-ceiling window to look down at the sticky, traffic-clogged streets below. New York in July was so not the place to be. Her best friends, Tiffani and Chelsea, would be heading down to the beach now, while she, Madison, was cooped up in this stupid condo.
It wasn’t fair.
‘What am I supposed to do now?’ she said, turning back to her mother.
Candy looked up from her stool, where she was readjusting the diamond collar on her lapdog, Dolce. ‘Honey, you live in the greatest city in the world! There’s so much to do.’
‘Like what?’
‘Shopping! And Fabrizo has opened up that new nail bar around the corner. His French manicures are to die for.’
Madison carelessly examined a perfect pink nail. ‘Whatever.’ She was so over manicures, so over her mother, so over this dumb city. It was like being a prisoner in a cage with no end in sight. Madison couldn’t believe the injustice of it all. ‘Oh my God, of all the times to get sick, Hank has to do it now. Doesn’t he know he’s ruining my life?’
Candy’s baby-blue eyes widened. ‘Madison, that’s a dreadful thing to say!’
Madison sighed. ‘You know what I mean.’
Exasperated, she turned and walked over to one of the many full-length mirrors adorning the luxury apartment. Her stepfather Hank, her mom’s third husband and a self-made millionaire, had recently been diagnosed with colon cancer and was now in one of the most prestigious hospitals in New York. The good news was that Hank was responding well to treatment…the bad news was that he was going to be in hospital all summer, ruining their annual family holiday.
Madison scrutinised herself in the mirror. Five foot eight and an American size six, she was perfectly proportioned, with a pert chest, flat stomach and shapely legs. Madison turned round, admiring her high, peachy butt, courtesy of three-hundred-dollar-an-hour Pilates sessions with the same woman who trained Sarah Jessica Parker. She was looking hot, even for her. Her brow furrowed crossly as she thought of it all going to waste. She could kill Hank!
The intercom sounded, making her mother’s little lapdog jump.
‘Go and get that will you, honey?’ asked Candy.
Sighing again, Madison made her way to the front door and looked through the peephole. Juan, the young Puerto Rican bellboy, was standing outside, smoothing down his hair. Madison pulled the door open and leant on the door frame, giving him the full benefit of her white denim hot pants. The young man’s eyes widened. He had a monster crush on Madison. She looked down at the shiny black envelope in his hand.
‘That for me?’
‘Yes, it just came by courier. I thought I would bring it up personally. I was going to—’
But Madison had already snatched the envelope out of his hand and shut the door in his face. Then she returned to the kitchen to show it to her mother.
‘It’s heavy, it must be a super dooper invite,’ said Candy approvingly, handing the envelope back to her daughter.
Madison opened the envelope quickly and threw it on the floor. Dolce jumped down and started ripping the paper apart, but both women were so engrossed in the contents they didn’t notice. Madison had only got three lines down before she started squealing.
