Read Cupcakes at Carrington’s (Carringtons Department Store 1) for Free Online

candles flickering on a white lacquered table nearby. Eventually Malikov drops my hand and I feel the blood rushing back into my aching palm as I wonder what the people he
doesn’t
like get to call him … if anything at all.
    ‘OK Kon, if you’re sure you don’t mind,’ I smile, and he tilts his glass up towards me like a tick of approval. ‘And how are you settling in to your new home here in England?’ I add, trying to relax and get into the swing of things.
    ‘It’s adequate,’ he shrugs, waving a hand in the air. ‘A kennel compared to my home in Moscow.’ He juts his head up. ‘There I have a house as big as your Queen Elizabeth’s Buckingham Palace,’ he adds with all the attitude of a movie Mafioso.
    ‘Oh, how wonderful,’ I simper, being careful not to overdo it, but knowing the fawning process is the most crucial part of the personal shopping experience. Private customers want to feel special and taken care of. And why not? They’re just like any other customer at the end of the day – only with stacks more money, obviously.
    ‘You must come and see it sometime.’ He fixes his eyes on me again and I glance towards James.
    ‘Well, I’d have to see what the boss says of course …’ I venture, playing along with his flirtation. He studies me for a moment, as if peeling my clothes off with his eyes. Then he tugs at the side of his jacket, making it flap open momentarily, and I catch a glimpse of a handgun inside a tan leather shoulder holster. His eyes meet mine.
    ‘I am a businessman, business is dangerous in Russia,’ he says by way of explanation. I quickly tear my eyes away.
    ‘Who’s your best customer?’ Malikov asks suddenly.
    ‘Mr Malikov, I’m sure you’ll appreciate that it would be totally unprofessional of me to break any customer confidentialities,’ James says smoothly, knowing it’s more than his job’s worth to name any names. The Heff is very particular about discretion. Only a few weeks ago he had a go at one of the boys in Menswear for sniggering in the canteen after catching a glimpse of a well-known MP in one of the changing rooms. Under his rotund belly, the MP was working skimpy leopard-print Speedo-style budgie smugglers while admiring himself doing a pretend dive in the mirror.
    Thinking of the gas bill that needs paying urgently, I launch in. ‘I probably shouldn’t tell you this …’ I hesitate, before lowering my voice. James flashes me a warning look but he doesn’t need to worry. ‘One of the Queen’s relatives was a virtual fashion recluse before we kitted him out in the finest menswear, so please be assured you’ll be joining an elite group within British high society,’ I say, amazed at my own nerve.
    ‘What club does he belong to?’ Malikov interrupts, rudely.
    ‘Mr Malikov, I’m not sur—’ He cocks his head to one side. ‘Sorry. Kon,’ I correct myself. ‘I’ve said far too much already. But let’s just say he’s definitely back on the society circuit now, according to last week’s …’ I hesitate momentarily and flick my eyes over to the pile of glossy magazines artfully fanned on a coffee table for inspiration. ‘…
Hello!
magazine,’ I quickly add. Malikov’s eyes widen and he nods his head slowly. ‘And I could always investigate the possibility of a discreet introduction to him … say on the polo field.’ His nodding head speeds up at the prospect of mixing in such elite circles.
    ‘What did he buy?’ He stares directly at James, who doesn’t flinch. ‘Well, I’m sure you will appreciate that Carrington’s prides itself on offering a very personal serv—’
    ‘Yes, yes, I know all of that. I’ve done my checks so you can cut the flimflam. What’s the most expensive thing you have?’ he asks, waving a dismissive hand in the air.
    ‘Well I know you’ve mentioned an interest in jewellery …’ James takes a step towards a glass display cabinet housing Carrington’s fine jewellery collection, before