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“So why was he here?”
“Beats me.”
“Do you have a death wish?”
“No, sir.”
“Then find the fuck out, and if I have to tell you how to do your job again, Jemima, we are going to have a serious fucking problem on our hands. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
She slips out, quietly closing the door, and I breathe out in frustration. She should know better than to test me right now. She is bratty and cocky, and usually, I find it amusing and entertaining, but this thing with Gideon has rattled me, and I won’t rest until he is looking directly at me when I tell him shit is about to hit the fan.
9
ISLA
The phone wakes me up at what appears to be the crack of dawn. Not even in mid-winter. It’s still pitch black out, and the heating hasn’t even clicked on yet to signify 6 AM.
“Fucking hell,” I grumble and fumble on the bedside cabinet for my phone. Squinting at it, I can see it is half five. I answer it, already having an inkling who it might be. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet.”
Sophia giggles. “I never said twenty-four hours. I saidtomorrow. You’re lucky you got five and a half hours longer.”
“Yeah, real lucky, thanks a bunch.”
“Well?”
Taking a deep breath, hoping that this isn’t the worst mistake of my life, I exhale and say, “You win. I’m in.”
Sophia’s exhalation is filled with relief. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “I promise you won’t regret this.”
“I hope not.”
“I’ll pick you up in two hours. Pack your bags, clean up, say your goodbyes and lock your flat up tight.”
“Two hours?” I exclaim, sitting up. “What about all my clients? I’m supposed to work at least a week’s notice!”
“All taken care of. Two hours, Isla.” She hangs up, which is an annoying habit of hers, to get her own way.
Glaring at the phone, I drop it on the bed and flop back, glad I made a start on my packing last night. But the most difficult part is still in front of me.
Knowing my parents will be up as they rise at five, no matter what day or season, I dial the landline and wait.
Mum answers after a couple of rings. “Hello?”
She isn’t even worried it might be an emergency, just business as usual, as if everyone is up at this ungodly hour.
“Hi, Mum.”
“Isla. This is a surprise. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine, just checking in.”
“Oh, well, we are right as rain. You know us, just cracking on.”
Nodding slowly, I don’t know what else to say. “Good, good,” I murmur after a brief, uncomfortable pause.
“Isla?” My dad comes on the line. “Come to your senses yet?”
