From Humble Beginnings (Joe Steel) Read Online Free

foolish, Joe. Where she’s concerned, you have to be careful. Bernard doesn’t react normally when his precious Juliet comes on to the scene.”
    “Don’t start, Cass. I don’t need it. I’m just being polite. She’s the hostess and I’m the reason the party’s being thrown. Don’t make more out of it than there really is.”
    And if she believes that, then she’ll believe anything.
    Perhaps she sees my hesitancy to talk about Juliet, because she shakes her head and places a thick wad of paper on my desk. “Here’s your contract. Get a lawyer to look over it.”
    “For God’s sake, Cass, I trust Bernard.”
    “Of course, you do. But still, understand what’s being asked of you.” She takes a step back, her eyes on me as she deliberates over her next words. “I won’t say any more about Juliet. Just watch yourself, okay? I’d hate for you to come so high only to fall.”
    She spins around and strides out and as I watch her go, my eyes following her as she enters the hallway and returns to her desk, I admit, to myself at least, that I’ve already stumbled.
    How deep the fall is I’ve yet to ascertain.
    I just hope this isn’t the beginning of the end. 

Chapter Two
     
    Christ, I hate parties. Always have and always will. No matter how many I attend and be they in my honour or somebody else’s, I hate them.
    Bernard, the devious old bastard, has managed to turn this into a PR event. I’d expected a small office party, one that took place in the boardroom and consisted of the upper echelons of management drinking champagne and devouring over-priced canapés. All of this as Juliet wafted around, fussing over her father, while making sure that everyone had enough thousand-pound-an-ounce caviar on perfectly formed blinis.
    Instead, I’ve been driven out of London, forced into the grounds of Bernard’s country pile and been thrown to the lions.
    The Press.
    Shuddering at the idea of the tortures I’ve had to suffer tonight, I allow my eyes to wander over the event that Bernard wants to hit the early pages of many a paper and magazine.
    The party is a thousand-strong and even though I’m bored out of my mind, Juliet has done a fabulous job. Poisonous Poppy, Bernard’s PR guru, is on hand so Jules did have some help, but still, there’s a gentility to the bash that isn’t Poppy’s style.
    Bernard’s country digs consist of a Grade One, Georgian Manor House. It wouldn’t suit graffiti being sprayed all over the Palladian façade; as Poppy had done for the last catwalk showing of Modiste ’s latest collection. Not that that wouldn’t have stopped her from doing something outrageous to the two hundred year old house!
    Jule’s breeding bleeds through every inch of this party. From the dinner-suited men -the majority in bow ties- to the women dressed in gowns and jewels that wouldn’t look out of place at an award ceremony; it just screams class.
    The gently rolling hills of grass that are Bernard’s front garden have been overtaken with tables and chairs, a catwalk, huge bouquets of flowers and a thousand or so men, women and staff- the latter all dressed in Modiste ’s latest gear.
    Modiste is the haute couture line of Bernard’s tailoring conglomerate. He’d recently urged Julian Alexander on to the payroll and the fashion world had been abuzz at such a signing.
    Alexander’s extensive background and experience at other fashion houses is evident in the clean sharp lines of exquisite tailoring that bleeds into both his For Him and For Her collections. Expensive high quality fabric cut into shapes that screamed money were his forte.
    Years of working my way through the different departments of Bernard’s company has given me quite the eye. Contracting Alexander for the next two years had been a bloody brilliant idea.
    My own, of course.
    I think that decision is why Bernard finally promoted me. Alexander has already radicalized the haute couture line and profits have shot through the roof.