Chapter One

The Darlings age well. Everyone says so, and they say it especially about Holly Darling. They whisper it when they pass her in the halls at work; they murmur it when they see her at galas and fundraisers. Everyone wants to know her secret. Everyone wants to be photographed with her. But Holly's almost never in the glossies if she can help it, and she turns down most of the invitations she receives. Those people didn't know her before; they'd never understand who she really is now.

So when people ask, Holly simply tells them it's in her genes. And it's true. Her grandmother Wendy looked fabulous until the day she died, and Holly's mother, Jane, could pass for someone decades younger. On her trips to London, Holly is always surprised to see how little her mother has changed. A few more lines around her eyes, maybe, another streak of silver in her hair, but overall, the same cool, beautiful Jane.

Of course, Holly's also in the business of looking good. Thousands of women all over the world rely on Darling skin cream. At her shiny headquarters on Fifth Avenue, marketing routinely suggests that she model for the line. What better face for the brand than her own wrinkle-free one? With her sleek blonde hair and Pilates-honed frame, Holly embodies what most of her customers want to be. Plus, there's her famous name, an added allure. But Holly always refuses. She doesn't want the extra publicity.

Or the scrutiny that comes with it. It's bad enough that she's done what she swore she'd never do when she was a child-use the Darling name to get ahead. She hadn't made the choice lightly, but the cosmetics industry is cutthroat, and Holly's not stupid enough to waste such a big advantage. But she draws the line at putting herself out there.

This morning, as she's walking down the hallway to the conference room, a handful of people poke their heads out of cubicles and offices to wish her good luck. Holly nods and smiles, but her focus is on the meeting ahead.

When she reaches the conference room, she takes a deep breath to gather herself, then pushes open the door. A half dozen faces turn to look at her.

"Are we set to go?" she asks, crossing the room to her seat at the head of the table. There's the faintest hesitation to her steps, as if she's dragging one leg. It's the remnant of a car accident she suffered in her twenties, back when she was young and foolish and believed love was enough to protect those she cared about. A naivete that cost her one child and almost another, not to mention a husband. When she's cold, or tired, or stressed like today, the limp is more pronounced.

"Marketing dropped off the mock-ups," Barry says, taking her abruptness in stride. Barry's been with Holly since the beginning. Today he's wearing his lucky blue suit, a pink silk handkerchief peeking out of his breast pocket. On anyone else, it might have been overkill. On Barry, polished to such an extreme that even his bald head shines, it looks good.

The team talks strategy for a few moments. They've done one or two of these deals before, where the Darling name is loaned out for a special product launch-though never one of this magnitude. Today they'll combine their brand with the country's leading cosmetics company to create a highlighter called Pixie Dust. The conference phone rings, and Barry answers it.

"Send them up," he says. Then, to Holly, "They're here."

A low buzz fills the room as the four staffers turn to one another, aligning marketing materials that are already perfectly...