Master of the Game by Sidney Sheldon

“When I was an intern,” he told Alexandra, “I went out on my first house call in the dead of winter. The patient was a frail old man in bed with a terrible cough. I was going to examine his chest with my stethoscope, but I didn’t want to shock him, so I decided to warm it first. I put it on the radiator while I examined his throat and his eyes. Then I got my stethoscope and put it to his chest. The old man leaped out of bed like a scalded cat. His cough went away, but it took two weeks for the burn to heal.”

Alexandra laughed. It was the first time she had laughed in a long time.

“Can we do this again next week?” Peter asked.

“Yes, please.”

 

 

Eve’s honeymoon turned out much better than she had anticipated. Because of Keith’s pale, sensitive skin, he was afraid to go out in the sun, so Eve went down to the beach alone every day. She was never alone for long. She was surrounded by amorous lifeguards, beach bums, tycoons and playboys. It was like feasting at a wonderful smorgasbord, and Eve chose a different dish each day. She enjoyed her sexual escapades twice as much because she knew her husband was upstairs in their suite waiting for her. He could not do enough for her. He fetched and carried for her like a little lapdog, and waited on her hand and foot. If Eve expressed a wish, it was instantly gratified. She did everything she could think of to insult him, anger him, to turn him against her so that he would let her go, but his love was unshakable. The idea of letting Keith make love to her sickened Eve, and she was grateful that he had a weak libido.

 

 

The years are beginning to catch up with me, Kate Blackwell thought. There were so many of them, and they had been so full and rich.

Kruger-Brent, Ltd., needed a strong hand at the helm. It needed someone with Blackwell blood. There’s no one to carry on after I’m gone, Kate thought. All the working and planning and fighting for the company. And for what? For strangers to take over one day. Bloody hell! I can’t let that happen.

 

 

A week after they returned from their honeymoon, Keith said apologetically, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to go back to work, dear. I have a lot of operations scheduled. Will you be all right during the day without me?”

Eve barely managed to keep a straight face. “I’ll try.”

Keith was up and out early every morning long before Eve awakened, and when she went into the kitchen she found he had made coffee and laid out all the breakfast things for her. He opened a generous bank account in Eve’s name and kept it replenished. She spent his money recklessly. As long as she was enjoying herself, Keith was happy. Eve bought expensive jewelry for Rory, with whom she spent almost every afternoon. He worked very little.

“I can’t take just any part,” he complained to Eve. “It would hurt my image.”

“I understand, darling.”

“Do you? What the fuck do you know about show business? You were born with a silver spoon up your ass.”

And Eve would buy him an extra-nice present to placate him. She paid Rory’s rent and bought him clothes for interviews, and paid for his dinners at expensive restaurants so that he could be seen by important producers. She wanted to be with him twenty-four hours a day, but there was her husband. Eve would arrive home at seven or eight o’clock at night, and Keith would be in the kitchen preparing dinner for her in his “Kiss the Cook” apron. He never questioned her about where she had been.

 

 

During the following year, Alexandra and Peter Templeton saw each other more and more often. Each had become an important part of the other’s life. Peter accompanied Alexandra when she went to visit her father at the asylum, and somehow the sharing made the pain easier to bear.

Peter met Kate one evening when he arrived to pick up Alexandra. “So you’re a doctor, eh? I’ve buried a dozen doctors, and I’m still around. Do you know anything about business?”