The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters #6) - Lucinda Riley Page 0,4

when my sister Maia had won a place at the Sorbonne.

Four weeks later, I’d served Susie, now my modelling agent, a croque monsieur and the rest was history . . .

Why am I looking back all the time? I asked myself as I retrieved my cell to listen to the rest of my messages. And why do I keep thinking about Pa . . .?

‘Mitch . . . Pa . . .’ I muttered as I waited for the voicemail to spill its beans. ‘They’re gone, Electra, along with Amy as of today, and you just have to move on.’

‘My dearest Electra! How are you? I am back in New York again . . . What are you doing tonight? Fancy sharing a bottle of Cristal and some chow mein dans ton lit avec moi? I’m yearning for you. Give me a call back as soon as you can.’

Despite my low mood, I couldn’t help but smile. Zed Eszu was an enigma in my life. He was hugely wealthy, well connected and – despite his lack of height and the fact that he wasn’t my usual type at all – incredible in bed; we’d been hooking up regularly for three years. It had all stopped when I had gotten serious with Mitch, but I’d reinstated him a few weeks ago and there was no doubt he’d given my ego the boost it had needed.

Were we in love? It was a total no, for me anyway, but we ran with the same crowd in New York and, best of all, when we were alone together we spoke in French. Like Mitch, he wasn’t impressed by who I was, which was rare these days, and somehow comforting.

I stared at the phone, debating whether to ignore Zed and follow Susie’s instructions for an early night, or whether to call him and enjoy some company. It was a no-brainer, so I called Zed and told him to come on over. While I was waiting for him, I took a shower then dressed in my favourite silk kimono, which had been designed especially for me by an up-and-coming Japanese atelier. I then drank what felt like a gallon of water to counteract any drinking or bad stuff I might do when he arrived.

The concierge phone beeped to announce Zed’s presence and I told them to send him right up. He arrived at my door with a giant bouquet of my favourite white roses and the promised bottle of Cristal champagne.

‘Bonsoir, ma belle Electra,’ he said in his strange clipped French as he unloaded the flowers and champagne and kissed me on both cheeks. ‘Comment tu va?’

‘I’m good,’ I answered as I eyed the champagne greedily. ‘Shall I open it?’

‘I think that is my job. Can I take my jacket off first?’

‘Of course.’

‘But before that,’ he said, dipping into his jacket pocket and handing me a velvet box. ‘I saw this and thought of you.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, sitting down on the couch and tucking my irritatingly long legs underneath me as I stared at the box in my hands like an excited child. Zed often bought me presents; ironically, given his vast wealth, they were rarely flashy, but always something thoughtful and interesting. I lifted the lid and saw a ring nestling inside. The stone was oval-shaped and of a soft buttery-yellow hue.

‘It is amber,’ he said as he watched me studying the way it caught the light of the chandelier above us. ‘Try it on.’

‘Which finger should I put it on?’ I teased as I looked up at him.

‘Whichever you prefer, ma chère, but if I was going to make you my wife, I think I might do a little better than that. I am sure that you know your Greek namesake has an association with amber.’

‘Really? No, I don’t.’ I watched him as he popped the cork on the champagne. ‘Like what?’

‘Well, the Greek word for amber was “electron”, and legend has it that the sun’s rays were trapped within the stone. A Greek philosopher noticed that if two pieces were rubbed together, they created friction, which created an energy . . . Your name couldn’t suit you better,’ he smiled as he placed a glass of champagne in front of me.

‘Are you saying I create friction?’ I smiled back. ‘The question is, did I grow into my name, or did it grow into me? Santé.’

‘Santé.’ We clinked our glasses and he sat down next to me.

‘Um . . .’

‘You are thinking to yourself,