Page 144 of The Black Trilogy

He clapped his hands together in glee. “Buying furniture and accessories.”

Wonderful. I genuinely hated shopping. “How busy are you with your stylist thing this month?”

“I’m between contracts at the moment. I’m sure I’ll pick something up, though, and I always pay my rent on time.”

“If you decorate my house, I’ll pay you and throw in the apartment free for six months.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” Which was what I’d have if I tried to sort out the house myself.

Bradley leaned against the glass, tapping his fingernails on it as he thought. “I guess I could do that. Would it be a problem if my boyfriend lived here with me?”

“Is he an idiot?”

“No!”

“Then there’s no problem.”

Over the next hour, we hammered out the details, agreeing on a fair salary, a list of basic tasks that were needed, and rough working hours. That evening we sealed the deal with a handshake and margaritas.

Sometimes, the impulsive decisions you make in life turn out to be the best choices. Our original contract had lasted six months, but eight years later, Bradley was still colour-coordinating my life. I’d be lost without him.

Bradley kept me company over lunch, although from the dirty looks he gave the salad, he regretted not stopping at the drive-thru on the way over.

“Thanks for staying, Bradley.”

“That’s why you pay me the big bucks, doll.”

“I’ll give you a raise if you can convince Toby to let me eat proper food again.”

“No can do. I’ll just have to stick with abusing your credit card instead.”

I laughed, because I didn’t care what he spent on my credit card and we both knew it.

I’d stopped caring about cash years ago. As long as I had enough to be comfortable, the extra zeroes on my bank balance didn’t matter. Sure, I had toys, but most of them were there to save me time, like the helicopter and the plane. I never had enough time. Tick, tick, tick, tick… The seconds counted down, and then poof! You were gone. Material possessions? Well, I was just as happy wearing Walmart as Vera Wang.

And having money had proved a blight as well as a blessing. While I’d done good with it by starting a charitable foundation to help kids who’d been dealt a bad hand in life, it also meant I never quite knew who my friends were. Did new acquaintances see me as a person or a cash machine? The answer to that question meant I didn’t trust many people, although I’d learned to spot money-grabbers a mile off.

Speaking of money-grabbers, I still had to deal with my husband’s Aunt Miriam. Ever the compassionate one, she was intent on suing me for his estate, convinced that as his only living blood relative, she was automatically entitled to everything. While I knew she wouldn’t get a dime, the thought of a protracted battle weighed on my mind.

“Bradley, have you heard anything from Miriam?”

“She’s been emailing you. Nate got your lawyer to write back, but that was only a couple of weeks ago, and I don’t think she’s replied yet.”

Why didn’t Bradley meet my eyes?

“And what else? Come on, I’m a big girl; I can take it.”

“She turned up here one day.”

“Here? Really?”

She’d spread her cheer at my husband’s family home a few times, but never before darkened my doorway. Hardly surprising, since she hated me with a passion her husband could only dream of.

Fortunately, our paths hadn’t crossed much over the years. I only saw her when we threw a party at the Riverley estate, which had belonged to her brother before it passed down to my husband. She’d turn up for the free booze, hoover up the canapés, complain a bit, then slither back under her rock until the next time.

“Yes, here. Mrs. Fairfax made the mistake of opening the door to her, and she started ranting as soon as she got inside. I asked her to leave, but she told me she wasn’t listening to some fudge-packing little pixie and that this would soon be her house, anyway.”

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