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

he’s cut off again. Malikov juts his head forward.
    ‘That’s because I own a platinum mine. Won it on a hand of roulette last month. Uranium too,’ he chortles. Raising a hand, he bats the air around in front of him before continuing, ‘So let’s hope there’s another war somewhere so demand for uranium from the arms manufacturers increases.’ He snorts at his own sick joke, while James and I drag smiles onto our faces.
    After showing him each of the bags I brought up earlier and talking him through the quality of craftsmanship, I bide my time as James tells him about the new Spring/Summer collection, prices, styles, and even manages to squeeze in a mention of the Chiavacci bags. A short silence follows.
    ‘No, that is not acceptable. I can go to any shop and get the same prices, so you will need to do better than that.’ His chubby paw tightens around the tiger’s head. James gives me a look and I’m off again.
    ‘Kon. Of course you’re absolutely right. Some of the big stores up in London do have the same items for the same price … but I think you’ll find this bag here,’ I pause to retrieve an exquisite £1,950 buttery leather under-shoulder bag from the display stand, ‘is exclusive to Carrington’s. The brand manager told me herself when she last visited.’ I pause for a moment, give the bag a quick stroke with the back of my index finger so as not to mark it, and lean forward slightly, squeezing my boobs together as I hold the bag out to him. I murmur a silent prayer for forgiveness to the women who chained themselves up so we wouldn’t have to resort to this kind of thing. But I can’t help wondering if they had to pay their own gas bills too.
    Licking his fleshy lips, Malikov’s eyes flick to my cleavage and I know I’ve got his attention.
    ‘And, well, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Catherine … our very own new royal princess,’ I discreetly cross my fingers to cover the fib I’m about to tell. But needs must and all that. ‘Yes, Kate is the only other person to have this particular handbag. The designer sent it personally as a wedding present, and you know I’m almost certain I spotted it tucked under Kate’s arm when she was on the telly the other day.’ Malikov’s eyes widen. ‘
And
she was standing next to Her Majesty … the actual
Queen
!’ I add for good measure, making big eyes and willing my cheeks to stop burning. ‘So, I’m sure we can agree on a
super
deal especially for you.’ I glance at James, pleased with myself for having mentioned Malikov’s specific requirement.
    Behind me, the gentle swing of the wall clock pendulum ticks away the excruciatingly long silence as Malikov ponders on what I’ve just said.
    ‘No. I don’t think we have a sale here.’ It’s as if somebody has slammed on the emergency brake. My heart skips a beat. This has never happened before. ‘Is that the best you can do for cash?’ He fixes a pair of now sinister-looking eyes on me, and then I get it.
    ‘Kon, I can understand your hesitation. This is a very expensive bag.’ I swallow hard. ‘With certain … more exclusive customers –’ I rack my brains for a suitable sweetener before deciding to wing it again – ‘we could offer a selection of special promotional gifts.’ Pausing to clear my throat, I spot James in my peripheral vision and he looks panicky. ‘A purse or two to complement your handbag choices. And a selection of fashion jewellery,’ I add, remembering the flashy costume jewellery hidden in the cupboard behind my counter, too garish for our usual customers. The Brazilian jewellery supplier refused to take the items back and, even with the half-price markdown in the Christmas sale, we weren’t able to shift any of it.
    Malikov’s monobrow creases. His eyes dart greedily towards James for confirmation, who nods. ‘I’ll just pop downstairs and get you a selection of our best purses and bring the tray with the jewellery collection, if I