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We hang up, and I pocket my phone in my coat and look around. Flicking off the gas and electric, I pick up the cooler bag with my perishables to drop off at the local homeless shelter on the way, assuming Sophia doesn’t mind the detour, and place it on the suitcase on wheels. Hoisting my oversized bag onto my shoulder, I leave the flat and lock it up tight, throwing my keys in the bag and struggling down the one flight of stairs to meet Sophia at the curb.
“Mind if we make a stop? It would be a shame to waste all this.”
“What is it?”
“Food.”
“Of course.” She beams at me. “Tell me where to go.”
Setting off, I direct her, and after handing over the bag, we are on our way up the hill, my stomach in knots.
“He still doesn’t know I’m coming?” I ask when the castle comes into view.
“Uhm…”
“I’ll take that as a no. I hope you know what you’re doing here,” I murmur.
“It’ll be fine,” she insists, but I’m not so sure.
This Gideon sounds like a bit of a nightmare, but maybe that’s why Sophia came for me. She knows I can handle awkward and particular clients.
“I’ve left you a file with everything in it you need to know.”
“Will I be able to get in touch with you if I need help?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll try to check in often, but if I leave you with any contact details, Gideon will find them.”
“Won’t he be able to find you, anyway?” I ask this because I’m still convinced they are spies, so trying to hide from a master spy seems quite pointless.
“He will try, and he will grill you, but you don’t know shit.”
“You told me…”
“I lied.”
“Oh.”
She shoots me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”
“Fair enough. I guess you have your reasons, but it’s not my business to pry.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs and pulls up to these foreboding gates with a strange symbol on them. I’m guessing it’s a coat of arms of some kind.
My mouth goes dry as we are stopped by a security team that is terrifying to look at. Enormous guys with attitudes you don’t want to mess with.
“Who’s she?” one of them growls, bending down to glare at me with dead eyes when Sophia slides the window down.
“This is Isla Harding. You will liaise with her for the next few months while I’m out of town.”
“Boss know about this? We received no orders to let anyone onto the premises.”
“Oh, he knows, he’s just being a dick about it,” Sophia growls, which strangely sets the guard’s concerns at ease.
“Fair enough. Good luck, blondie,” he says with a slight sneer in my direction, which doesn’t make me feel any more confident about this.
Banging the top of the car, he lets us through the gates, and when they close behind us, it feels like being locked up in prison. But I suppose the simile isn’t far from wrong. Wringing my hands, I try to relax when the car rolls to a stop and Sophia gets out.
“Come on,” she urges.
