Page 149 of The Black Trilogy

Stan trod on it, no hesitation. He even turned his head to glare at me, annoyed at the crunching interruption to his program.

Normal service: resumed. I was back to destroying phones again. I managed it with astonishing regularity, and the guys in the office always had a pool running on how long they’d last. Except while I was in England, I’d managed to keep my cheap mobile working for the entire trip—almost three months. Maybe I should quit using my normal phones and just get three of whatever that one was. Or could it be an omen? While my phone was intact, my sanity wasn’t, and vice versa? Perhaps breaking yet another fancy smartphone signified my life was getting back to normal. Here’s hoping, eh?

After I’d salvaged my SIM card and dumped the broken remains in the bin, I led Stan out to his paddock and watched him have a good roll. Then I walked back up the path to the house with Lucy bounding around beside me. Didn’t that dog ever run out of energy? The answer was no, but I preferred her like that than the half-dead puppy I’d brought home five years ago.

I’d been returning home late one night after visiting some acquaintances in a dodgy part of Richmond when I heard a small whimper as I walked past a dumpster. When I hopped up on an abandoned pallet and peered inside, Lucy’s tiny head poked out of a plastic bag.

What kind of scum dumped a living creature like that?

I vaulted over the side, landing in something icky and ruining a pair of Jimmy Choo boots much to Bradley’s despair. Out of five tiny puppies in the bag, only Lucy was still breathing. She couldn’t have been more than a couple of weeks old. I sacrificed a Missoni scarf to make a makeshift bed for her in my handbag and rushed her to the veterinarian. It was touch and go for a few days, but a week later Lucy came home with me. I fed her around the clock until she was strong enough to eat by herself, and she grew into a beautiful dog, if not a little bigger than I expected. My reward? Her loyalty and companionship.

And also her drool and her muddy paws. She jogged into the house ahead of me, pausing to shake off the morning dew in the kitchen. Fantastic. Mrs. Fairfax wouldn’t be very happy with us.

Lucy crunched her way through a bowl of doggy kibble while I started up the coffee machine. Caffeine was my drug of choice, and I needed a good hit first thing in the morning. While I waited for my drink to brew, I went to my phone cupboard and selected a shiny new model from the stack inside. Bulk discount, baby.

By the time I’d set my data to synchronise, the coffee was ready, and I poured myself a generous mug full of something dark, hot, and delicious. I’d just raised it to my lips, relishing the bitter taste, when it was removed from my hand and replaced by a cup of…

CHAPTER 4

“UGH, WHAT IS this?” I asked.

“Green tea with pomegranate,” Toby replied, and I wasn’t imagining the smirk on his face.

“Am I supposed to drink it? Or use it to ward off evil spirits?”

“Green tea’s good for you. It’s full of antioxidants.”

“It’s full of something. Can I have my coffee back?”

“No,” he answered, pouring it down the sink. “You’re on a detox this week.”

Super. Rabbit food for every meal. The last time I’d been on one of Toby’s detoxes, I’d been forced to sneak out in the middle of the night for a cheeseburger. Somehow he found out, even though I burned the wrapper and buried the ashy remains in a flower bed.

Toby went through my new diet plan with me. It could have been worse—at least I was allowed solids. Last time, everything had been pureed like baby food, which made me kind of queasy.

Grilled asparagus, steamed turkey, carrots with every meal. Mountains of protein. Not the tastiest in the world, but it saved me from having to think about what to eat. All I needed to do was look at the chart stuck to the fridge door, find the correct meal inside, and heat it up.

“See? I’ve labelled each box with the day,” Toby said.

Even with my brain’s current underperformance, I could manage to decipher that.

I got out this morning’s breakfast, a bowl of chopped fruit with yoghurt and nuts, and Toby took a seat opposite. I don’t think he trusted me not to break out the waffles as soon as his back was turned.

And for good reason, I had to admit.

I’d just finished the last mouthful when Alex walked in. A curse hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it down. Once, I’d have let it fly, but I’d made a bet with my late husband that I wouldn’t swear for nine months, and I was determined to stick to it. Why? Firstly, because I liked to win, and secondly, because if I stuck with the wager, I could almost imagine he’d be coming back to pay up. And what was my prize? He’d promised to tap dance on stage. In Vegas. Topless. Yes, the logical part of me knew I’d never see it, but if I won, maybe I’d go to the city of sin myself. Take the girls. We sure could do with a break after this nightmare.

But I wouldn’t get a break yet. Who told Alex I was back? He was my personal trainer, and he made it his mission in life to cripple me every day I saw him. When he walked into my kitchen that morning dressed in shorts and a vest, cracking his knuckles, I knew I was in trouble.

“You’re not dressed.”

I waved a hand at my jeans. “Uh…”

“Workout clothes. Now.”

Stalin’s modern incarnation made me run interval sprints for what seemed like an entire year. When my legs were so painful I could barely stand up, he moved onto my upper body, forcing me to do push-ups and pull-ups and dips until my arms gave way midway through a push-up and I collapsed into the mud.

Then he refused to give me a piggyback ride back to the house, although he did offer to drag me if I couldn’t walk.

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