Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141385 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141385 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
She knows that everything she has should be mine. If I were her, I might want to get rid of me, too, if I’m being honest.
After all, I know better than anyone what can transpire if you don’t rid yourself of those who threaten you.
She’s about to find out for herself.
Our taxi pulls up outside the gates of the Sinclair estate, and Marina gets out to retrieve our bags from the boot. I pay the driver, adding a tip for good measure, and thank him before I step out to help Marina with the rest of our things.
With them in hand, I use my fob to open the gates, and we walk through the front garden to the main house. Someone is waiting for us when we reach the doors, and the moment we step inside, the maid’s eyes briefly widen.
Ah.
So you’re her little helper, are you?
“M—Miss Sinclair.” Her voice wobbles slightly as she greets me, and she looks down. “You’re back sooner than expected.”
“Is that a problem?” I raise an eyebrow. “Is there a reason I cannot come back before the time I originally stated? I live here.”
“No, of course not. No problem, miss.” She takes a step back, granting us entry to the foyer.
I motion for Marina to follow me, and as soon I step inside, I turn and head towards the living room. Jasmine is lounging on one of the sofas, a steaming cup on the coffee table beside her, with her feet on the back cushions and her phone in front of her face.
She looks up, presumably at the sound of my footsteps, and her brow furrows before she catches herself. “Harriet? What are you doing back so soon?”
“Goodness,” I say, putting my bags on the armchair. “Why is everyone so obsessed with what time I’m home? It’s like there’s something going on I don’t know about. If it were my birthday, I might think you’re planning a surprise party.”
“In your dreams.” She puts her phone down and shuffles into a seated position. “You said you would be back later, that’s all.” Her blue gaze, as icy as ever, roves over me, as if she’s examining me for any bumps or scrapes. “Didn’t you have a shoot today?”
“Mm, I did. I was a bit late leaving thanks to Marie.” I cock my thumb over my shoulder in Marina’s direction, deliberately giving her the wrong name. “So, I made her come with me.”
Panic twitches across her features. “You never take anyone to your shoots.”
“Yes, well, I was late, as I said.” I sigh dramatically. “She came to help me set up, but when we got there, the clients never showed up. We waited for an hour, and I called, but nothing.” I shrug a shoulder as if it’s no big deal and pat my bags. “So, she ran errands with me instead. I need some new equipment.”
“Right.” Jasmine looks between us, her shoulders tense. “Clients didn’t show up, huh? Maybe they found out how much of a fraud you are.”
“Maybe,” I reply brightly, picking up my bags again. I turn and hand them to Marina, then flag down another maid. “Please take these things to my room.”
She bows her head. “Yes, miss.” She picks up the bags Marina can’t manage, and together, the two of them haul my goodies upstairs.
“Did your clients really not show up?” Jasmine is sitting up now, and she’s cradling her cup of what smells like coffee as if it’s a lifeline. Her knuckles are white, and there’s a slight tremble to her grasp.
“Why would I lie about that?” I tilt my head to one side. “It happens. Emergencies, illnesses, sometimes people just change their mind. That’s why I take a deposit. Why?”
“I was only asking.” Her haughty tone is weaker than usual. “I thought it strange, that’s all.”
“Why? Do you know my clients from today?”
“No!” The word bursts out of her, and she catches herself, faking a sip from her mug before setting it down. “No, of course not. Why would I?”
“I don’t know. It’s a small world, after all.” I pause, then smile coolly at her. “Well, this catch up was… lovely, but I have things to do. Are you done interrogating me, detective?”
Jasmine scoffs and lies back on the sofa, reaching her hand between the cushions and retrieving her phone. “As if I care what you do. As long as you’re out of my way, you can do whatever you want.”
“Thank you for your permission, ma’am,” I retort dryly. “Is that all? May I be excused from your most esteemed presence?”
“You—” She clenches her jaw, and the heat in her gaze would burn a lesser person. “I can’t wait to move out of here. Anything to get away from you.”
“Ah, yes, to your exquisite abode in the Royal Palace.” I walk towards the door, then glance back at her. “Don’t forget that you’re not engaged yet, Jasmine.”