Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
“Of course I’m going. No one gets invited to the partners’ monthly meetup.” I rub myself dry and shake out my hair from the towel. “Besides, I remember him saying very clearly that he hardly ever goes to Evelyn’s.” He prefers the Library Bar.
“He went there the night you were there for the conference. Don’t you remember? He had Clark up against the bar by his throat.”
I give her a tired look. “He won’t know I’m there.” There’s an entrance to the club around the side of Arlington Hall. I’ll use that one. I’ll crawl combat-style if I have to.
“You’re mad.”
I sit down on the floor in front of the mirror. Maybe. But I don’t have much choice. “It’ll be fine,” I assure her, and she shakes her head, picking up a basket of washing and dropping it on the end of my bed. “Thanks.” I smile mildly.
“Wearing this?” She plucks something off the top of the pile. The bra Jude bought me.
“Throw it away.” I pick up my blow-dryer and drown out her sigh.
After clearing the gateman, my Uber drives painfully slowly toward the splendid old building, the driver releasing constant sounds of awe. I fidget in my seat, faffing with my hair. When he rolls around the fountain, I see the army of staff waiting to greet me, help me, escort me.
“Just keep going to the end,” I say, leaning forward, wanting to minimise interaction with anyone. “To the car park around the side.” Would they recognise me? “I can walk through the grounds, it’ll only take a few minutes.”
“I’m being signalled to stop,” he says, slowing down.
“Damn,” I murmur. My door is open before I can put a bag over my head, and I smile my thanks to Stan as I reluctantly step out. “I’m meeting colleagues at Evelyn’s,” I say. “I’ll just make my own way round.”
“Oh, I would highly advise against it.”
“Why?” I flinch when something hits my head, just as Stan produces a golf umbrella and the heavens open. “Oh my God,” I gasp, as heavy, fat drops of rain start pounding down. “Jesus.” I lift my clutch bag and hold it over my head as Stan fights to get the umbrella open.
“Here we go, miss,” he says, covering me as we run to the doors. I make it and shake my bag, looking down at my white wide-leg trousers and gold silk camisole. “Shit.” Patches of wet everywhere, the material the worst for showing water marks.
“The ladies’ are just through there, if you’d like to use the facilities.”
I look up and find Anouska before me. Double shit. “Thanks.” I give her a tight smile. “Could you do me a favour?”
“A towel?”
“Don’t tell him I’m here.”
She cocks her head. “So you’re not here to see him?”
“No, we’re not . . . I’m not . . .” For fuck’s sake. “It’s over.” I frown. “Not that there was anything . . .” Someone kill me now. I sigh. “I wouldn’t be here, but my bosses chose this of all places for their monthly meeting, and I couldn’t not come.”
“I see.” Anouska nods. “Well, in that case you’ll probably be pleased to hear he’s not here.”
I feel everything in me deflate. Thank God. Now I just need to put him out of my head and focus. I look down my body. And dry off. “Thanks, Anouska.” I leave her and go to the ladies’, dropping my purse by the sink as I thank the hand dryer gods for the super powerful Dyson hanging on the wall. I pull my top out from my trousers and slip it off, dropping it between the drying blades, flapping it as it roars to life. It’s dry in no time at all. Happy, I slip it back on and shimmy out of my trousers, dipping them in and out too, smiling awkwardly at an elderly lady who enters and does a double take at me in a camisole and gold strappy heels. “Rain,” I explain, getting back to the task of drying my trousers.
By the time I’m done, it’s bang on eight o’clock. Which means I’m going to be late. I hurry out of the ladies’, answering my phone to Abbie as I make my way to Evelyn’s. “He’s not here,” I say in answer, knowing she’ll be worried.
“I know, because he was just here.”
I skid to a stop, my blood cooling. “What?”
“He just showed up demanding to see you.”
“Are you joking?”
“No, I’m not fucking joking. I had to prove you were out.”
“How did you do that?”
“I let him stalk round my flat checking all the rooms.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Fucking hell, Amelia, he was not in a good mood.”
Just as she says that, my phone starts beeping. “I told you he has a temper.” I pull my mobile away from my ear and wince. “He’s calling me.” I reject the incoming call and get back to Abbie. “Please tell me you didn’t say where I was.”