Part 203 (1/2)

He was going his own way, and that way was straight to the top. Lifting

the gla.s.s, he toasted Emma's portrait. If his eager and naive little

wife could give him a couple of boosts, they'd all live happy.

But he would run the show.

He'd indulge her for a week or two here. And then they'd move uptown.

One of those big glitzy and expensive flats off Central Park. That would

do for a beginning. He didn't mind living part of the year in New York.

In fact, he thought New York would suit him just fine. Especially with

the contacts Emma had there.

Crossing to the stereo, he flipped through alb.u.ms until he found one

that suited him. Complete Devastation. It seemed only right, Drew

mused, that he give a nod to the old man. After all, if it hadn't been

for the tour, he wouldn't have been able to lure Emma backstage, pour on

the charm. Imagine her being stupid enough to believe he hadn't known

who she was, or what she could do for him.

With a shake of his head, he put the record on, and let the music rock

the room.

No, he wouldn't find it difficult to indulge her. Even though she was

lousy in bed-a severe disappointment-she was overeager to please. He'd

played her as cleverly as he played his six-string, from the moment he'd

set eyes on her. He intended for his ingenuity to pay off. In spades.

Before long, she would have mended fences with her father. The old man

had taken their marriage well enough, and had been generous in his

wedding gift of fifty thousand pounds. Made out in Emma's name, but

already deposited in a joint account.

There was still restraint between father and daughter. That would ease