Free Flawless by Tilly Bagshawe Page A

clung to her curves like shrink-wrap. All she needed was the beauty spot and little-girl voice and she’d be the spitting image of Marilyn Monroe.
    “I think the rest of us might as well not bother,” said Scarlett, truthfully. “You’ll outsex every woman there by a hundred to one.”
    “Good,” said Nancy, beaming. “I’m tired of being single, and I’m tired of living in a city where most women’s idea of dressing up is wearing a visible diamante thong with their Juicy sweatpants. I mean, if you can’t go to town at Tiffany’s, right?”
    “Right,” said Scarlett. She, too, was tired of being single. She hadn’t had a date since October, and that was a disaster, as the guy had turned out to be married. But between Bijoux and her Trade Fair commitments, there never seemed enough time to look for suitable men. It didn’t help that most guys inthe diamond business were sharper than razor blades and about as trustworthy as John Edwards at a campaign stop. Certainly she didn’t hold out much hope of breaking her romantic losing streak tonight.

     
    The original Tiffany store on Fifth Avenue at Fifty-Seventh Street was such an iconic New York landmark, forever associated with Audrey Hepburn and the glamour of the
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
days, that the decision to open a second Manhattan location featuring younger, hipper designers sent shockwaves through both the jewelry industry and the city. Plans for the new store, its interior and layout, had been more closely guarded than the Kremlin’s nuclear defense procedures, so there was much excitement and anticipation surrounding today’s grand unveiling.
    Not until six p.m. were the brown hoardings masking the building at last removed and the red carpet rolled out onto the sidewalk. A huge swath of Madison Avenue had already been cordoned off by this time, as police struggled to hold back the swelling crowd of press and civilian gawkers who’d come to watch the first big celebrity party of the year get under way.
    They weren’t disappointed. By six fifteen, a steady stream of limousines was arriving, discharging their famous occupants onto the sidewalk from where, after a quick red-carpet twirl and wave, they’d disappear into the sumptuous new building. Actors, singers, politicians, and a smattering of A-list socialites swarmed into the atrium one after another, mingling with the unknown but usually infinitely wealthier scions of the diamond business, be they producers, dealers, or buyers.
    Scarlett, with her designer’s eye, was more struck by the astonishing array of pieces on display in open, laser-alarmed cases, and by the beauty of the store itself, than by the star-studded guest list.
    “Have you seen what they’ve done with the light in this foyer?” she gasped admiringly to Nancy. “It’s like standing in the center of a princess-cut diamond and working one’s way out. Each of those anterooms is like one of the facets, do you see?”
    “I’ll tell you what
I
see,” said Nancy. “I see George Clooney standing by the bar on his own. I’m gonna try and score a date.”
    Once again, Scarlett marveled at her friend’s limitless confidence as she watched her sashay across the marble floor, Louboutin heels clacking and red satin bottom wiggling sexily like Jessica Rabbit. Still, why not? She looked so jaw-droppingly fabulous tonight, Gorgeous George might just have met his match.
    Feeling distinctly less fabulous herself—she’d plumped for the gypsy skirt, which was divine but more girlie than sexy, a white ruffled peasant blouse, and flat, jeweled sandals—she lingered a little longer over the jewelry cases by herself before finally steeling herself to go and mingle. Small talk had never been a forte, but there were influential people here who could really help her with her Trade Fair campaign. She’d kick herself in the morning if she hadn’t plucked up the courage to talk to any of them.
    Meanwhile, in a busy corner of the mezzanine