Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“Oh, right. Good plan! Er, which way again?”
“Keep going,” he says, making a gesture behind him with his head. “Then hang a right. End of the hallway.”
“Thanks,” I say, brushing by him. “This place is like a maze.”
What are the chances he’s overcompensating for something? None, unless he had a large, underripe banana in his pocket last night.
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Won’t be here long enough!” I call over my shoulder.
“Dinner is in an hour.”
“Thanks!” I expect it’ll be a Victorian affair with the kids and me eating bland food in the villa’s equivalent of the draughty nursery.
I recognize the Sylvie’s room thanks to her name plaque and the girly decorations hanging from it, and slide quietly into the room two down from hers. The door is cool against my back, and my heartbeat seems to finally regulate in the silence.
Lucien, the brooding, rude, hot arsehole. The brooding, rude hot-hole. Yes, the epitaph suits him, I think. And then I wonder which room he knuckle-drags himself to when he needs to sleep. Before I have the chance to consider his nightly proximity, my phone begins to dance against the ebony nightstand, and Emmy’s name flashes up on screen.
9
PRIMROSE
“Emmy. How are you? How’s your dad?” My questions run into each other as I pick up my phone.
“He’s going to be okay.” The tremoring relief in her answer brings the sting of tears to my eyes.
“’Course he is,” I say as I send a silent thanks to the heavens.
“He’s sleeping right now. Mum’s with him so I thought I’d duck out and give you a quick call to check in. How are things are going?”
“Well! Things are well!”
“Have you been huffing helium?”
“Haha. I mean, I was expecting to be working for a couple of kick-ass entrepreneurs, hey-ho.”
“I told you ages ago I moved jobs.”
“Did you?” I feel myself frown.
“Primrose, don’t take this the wrong way, but with the year you’ve had, I’m surprised you remember anything. All I can say is you must really want to become a doctor.”
I laugh. “I’m sorry I’ve been rubbish at keeping in contact. It’s been intense.” Study, and more study, and then my final exams, plus my assistantship. Sometimes I’m surprised my brain still works.
“I’m in the same city, still doing the same job, so…”
“I can still be sorry for being a crappy friend.”
“Not eve if I can be sorry for surprising you with a single dad.”
“It’s no surprise he’s single with a personality like his.” I didn’t mean to say that.
“Oh no. What happened I know he can seem a little unfriendly on the surface, but he’s not so bad once you get to know him.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen.”
“I didn’t mean like that! But oh my gosh, he’s like, flames, right? So hot.”
Well, I’d like to set him on fire. Not really. Okay, just a little bit. Maybe singe him around the edges or something.
“Prim?”
“Sorry, the call must’ve dropped out,” I say with a wince. “Yeah, he’s something… else.”
“I’m just glad I don’t have to worry about that with you.”
“Worry about what?”
“I know I won’t be coming back to a complicated mess because you’re not going to crush on him. I mean, you don’t even like men,” she adds with a laugh.
“I do,” I protest.
“I don’t mean you’re a man hater, or that you like women. You’re just…”
“I like men,” I say uncomfortably. “It’s just that I don’t find many men attractive.”
That used to be the official line, anyway. Maybe I should change it to I’m attracted to the wrong kind of men.
“I really love my job, Prim. I’m so fond of the kids. I get to travel with them, and my salary is amazing.”
I imagine it would need to be.
“You know, Mr. du Beaumont almost doubled my salary from my last gig.”
“Is that what you have to call him?” There’s no way I’m calling him that. Not after…
I’m not thinking about that.
“I just prefer to keep things professional.”
“That’s good advice.” But a little too after the fact. I’ll just stick to keeping things between us glacial, I think, as I resist the urge to nibble on my thumbnail.
“I suppose it should be monsieur technically, but as I speak to the children exclusively in English, I stick to mister.”
“Makes sense.” I think I’ll call him mister dickhead.
“I’m buying my parents a house,” she says suddenly, her words bursting out of her like a confession. “A new build in Chingford. I put down the deposit last month.”
“Wow, that’s amazing, Em!”
“I haven’t even told them yet.”
“They’ll be so stoked!” Her whole life, her parents have lived in a flat in a social housing tower block. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Her dad worked hard to look after the family and what they lacked in material possessions, they made up with love.
Her parents are lovely people—salt of the earth, and proud. In fact, they only allowed Whit to pay Emmy’s school fees to the stupidly posh school he sent me to because I couldn’t go to the local high school. It was a safeguarding risk, according to his security people, and as both our families knew we’d be miserable apart, Em’s parents agreed. Besides, there was no merit in depriving her of the opportunity.