Wife By Approval
SEATED at her desk in her first–floor office, Valentina Dunbar was gazing absently through the rain–spattered window which overlooked Cartel Wines's long, narrow car park and, beyond the high wall, the River Thames.
Dusk had begun to creep stealthily out of hiding and lights were coming on, gleaming on the dark water and glowing orange against the cloudy purple sky.
Most of the day staff tried to get away early on a Friday night and a steady stream of vehicles were already leaving the car park to join the London evening rush hour.
Responsible for organising the social gatherings and the informative literature that invariably accompanied Cartel Wines's latest sales push, Tina was endeavouring to put the finishing touches to the pre–Christmas campaign. But for once she wasn't giving the job her full attention.
It was Friday the thirteenth. A day that, for her at least, had lived up to its unlucky reputation.
First thing that morning she had slipped and hurt her ankle getting out of the shower. Gritting her teeth, she had been forced to stand on one leg while she had dried and dressed and taken her thick, silky hair, natural ... read full excerpt from Wife by Approval ebook
