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Gina Steele staggered down the deserted street, her six-inch heels clacking her presence on the pavement.
This had not turned out to be the night she had hoped for.
Rob had promised her a candlelight dinner in one of those posh restaurants up in town, before whisking her away to the Crofton hotel for the night, with their sumptuous four-poster beds and champagne on ice.
All paid for on his company credit card, naturally.
Rob was way too tight to put his hand in his own pocket.
He may be a company director with a brand-new Mercedes and no less than three personal secretaries and two holiday apartments, one in Paris and the other in Dubai if you please, but when it came to getting him to part with his cash it was like drawing blood from a stone.
Tonight, was supposed to be a celeb
