I said the number out loud: forty-four thousand four hundred. It sounded like one of those twisty, never-ending phone numbers. But I made myself a promise: half of that would be gone by the end of the day. I mean, what’s forty thousand pounds to a broke girl, right? Watch and learn, whoever sent the letter.
For just one weekend in my entire life, I was rich. I had the world in my hands.
And a single chance not to screw up my life forever.
The phone rang. It was Sarah. The couple I’d scheduled for nine had just arrived.
“Send them to my office,” I said.
I loved saying that. Three months at Saidi, and I still hadn’t gotten used to it.
Look at what you’ve achieved, Vera. It’s up to you to make sure it doesn’t disappear.
I picked up one of the bundles, feeling the smooth texture of the blue band that bound them together. It was thin, paper-like, but what stood out was the stamped ink—dark and glossy, with the words Club Montari printed in bold letters.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, a knot tightening in my stomach. What if the money came from somewhere shady?
If that was the case, I could get myself into trouble. Into serious trouble. I put the money away and greeted my clients with the best smile I could fake.
Chapter 7
“No way,” I said. “I’m not bringing Bastian along with me!”
André closed his eyes, exhaustion clogging his features.
Maybe he’d had enough of the back-and-forth between Bastian and me. But really, whose fault is that? I’d point the finger at his dear nephew. Here’s the thing: Sarah, the company’s secretary, had been fixated on the Christmas party for weeks. It’s only October, but as soon as the weather turned chilly, bam! Christmas party chatter took over. She had been on it for two months now, sending out Facebook invites, organising the Secret Santadraw. The Christmas party is a huge deal at Saidi. Every year, they book out the best restaurant in London, The Big Mediterranean, and party until the early hours. Last year, they ended the night at a karaoke bar, and I’ve seen videos I’d rather forget. So yeah, André was worried Bastian and I might end up hurling insults—or worse—across the dining table.
But this request was too much.
“This isn’t a request, Vera.”
Yeah, right. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
André sighed. “I need him with you at the interview with Ivet. You’re great at getting information; I wouldn’t have assigned this to you otherwise. But I want Ivet to meet Bastian too. From what I’ve heard, she’s a bit of a recluse. Bastian has more tact in these situations than you do.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
Bastian appeared beside me like a ghost, his footsteps muffled, and pinched my arm. I shot a quick look, my jaw tightening. My mood was already sour that morning.
“Cut it out,” I smacked his shoulder.
“Hey! I’m not thrilled about it either,” he said, his deep voice cracking at the end of the sentence.
André left us alone. Bastian fished out his car keys, the metal clinking together as they dangled in front of me.
“You don’t have to come with me.”
I clenched my jaw. Should I let him go to the interview, even though it was my job? How could I explain that I needed to see Julian again without our boss finding out? How could I justify why I neededanothermeeting, one that had little to do with the case?
An idea hit me. I grabbed the keys from his hand.
“I’m driving,” I said, “but we need to leave now. I want tograb lunch on the way.”
* * *
We left the office at eleven, sliding into Bastian’s sleek black BMW, which was almost still in its plastic wrap. He grumbled about whyIhad to drive his car, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. His car was better than mine, and I needed to get us to prison fast. Any other day, I would’ve been happy to let him take the wheel. I prefer being the passenger. Bastian had driven me around before for Saidi affairs, making me feel like I had a chauffeur, like the rich kids at Cutnam.
But today was different. If I let him drive, I risked him ignoring my mission and, despite all my protests, driving me straight to Ivet’s place.
