Page 34 of The Reluctant Billionaire

‘Heyyy!’ she cries, throwing her arms around Gaz, who hugs her tightly and winks at me over her shoulder. ‘You’re back! How’s the finger?’

‘Pretty grim,’ he tells her as he releases her. ‘I actually fainted when they were stitching it up.’

‘You poor thing!’ she coos as I roll my eyes behind her back, because boy will Gaz milk this for all it’s worth. ‘I’m not surprised. How long were you in there for?’

‘Eight hours, all in. Fucking brutal. Judy was a doll. She bought me a couple of Toffee Crisps from the vending machine.’

‘Shouldn’t you be at home?’ Carlotta insists. So far she’s completely failed to acknowledge me, which would be bad enough if she hadn’t had her tits in my mouth last time I saw her.

‘I’d be bored shitless,’ he says. He jerks a thumb at me. ‘And Stalin here says I can stay if I stick to painting.’

‘Oh, goodie! You can paint with us,’ she says before turning and deigning to acknowledge me. ‘Morning, Aide.’ She flashes me a coquettish smile that I don’t return.

‘Carlotta.’ I nod curtly. She’s in a bright pink baggy sweatshirt made all the worse by a massive Versace logo printed all over the front of it. At least she’s still got the cutoffs on. I’m a big fan of those. The very brief encounter my fingers made with the soft underside of her arse cheek yesterday is emblazoned on my mind.

Among other things.

Suffice to say I didnotget much sleep last night.

‘Who’ll put the skirtings on?’ Gaz insists with the confidence of one who’s too fucking stupid to understand when he’s pushing his luck.

‘I will,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Or one of the guys. They’ve pretty much finished the bathrooms.’

‘I can help,’ he says. ‘I mean, I can tell you where to put them.’

I give him my most exasperated glare. ‘I think I can manage. They’reskirting boards.It’s not rocket science.’

He shrugs. ‘You’re the genius. Go for it.’

‘Your blessing means the world to me,’ I tell him, and I sweep past them both towards the kitchen. I’ll never admit it, but that Nespresso machine is a godsend.

I find Judy bending Sylvie’s ear in the kitchen.

‘What’re you doing here?’ I ask her. ‘You should have slept in. What time did you get home—midnight?’

‘Something like that,’ she says. ‘But you know me, the older I get, the earlier I wake.’

I gather her up into my arms. She’s so tiny she barely comes up to my chest. ‘Thanks for staying with him,’ I say gruffly into her hair.

‘Now, now.’ She clasps me around my middle and pats me hard on the back. Judy gives excellent hugs. Always has. ‘He’s a good boy. You’re both good boys. All’s well that ends well.’

‘Was it bad?’ I ask, releasing her. ‘At the hospital?’

‘It was a total shitshow.’

‘Apparently it was an hour before they even triaged him,’ Sylvie says.

I shake my head. ‘Jesus.’ Our NHS gets stretched thinner and thinner every year. I don’t know how we’re still limping along. If ever I developed a serious masochistic streak, I’d go in and sort the whole circus out for them. It needs such a huge overhaul it’s not funny.

‘How are you finding the new kitchen, Sylv?’ Judy asks her as I amble towards the Nespresso machine and stick in a pod.

Sylv runs a loving hand over the stainless steel work surface. ‘It’s a dream come true. It makes everything so easy I could weep.’

I exhale as I watch the machine with bated breath. These fucking women. Asking for so little. Giving so much.

‘You two are the real deal, you know that?’ I say to my coffee cup. Carlotta even brought in a stack of those little glass Nespresso-branded espresso cups for us to use.

Course she did.

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