“Still no. Sorry.”
“But, Dad… Diana’s great. She wouldn’t bother you at all. She’s smart and quick and really,reallynice. Let me bring her so you can meet her. Give her a trial. A couple of weeks, then I’ll kick her out if you hate her. Which you won’t, because she’s great.”
I roll my eyes, knowing I’m a massive pushover when it comes to my daughter. “She can stay until you leave. But only because I love you.”
She leaps up, jogs round to my side of the desk, and throws her arms around my neck. “You’re the best.” She slaps a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you.” She pauses, grabs a pen off my desk, tears a scrap of paper off a notepad, and scribbles a phone number on it. “Keep this. It’s Diana’s new number. You might need it after she moves in.”
I highly doubt I’ll ever need it, but I can hardly throw it away with Lizzie standing over me. To placate her, I open my desk drawer and shove the number in amongst my papers.
12
DIANA
Idraw in a sharp breath as we enter the Emblem’s penthouse. Holy fuck, this place is nuts. The entrance hall walls are covered in what look like fish-scales made of tiny bits of leather, and the floor is some kind of grey slate. It’s masculine and stark. On a side table is a huge vase of white roses, which appear to be the only feminine touch in the entire place.
I stare in awe as Lizzie guides me from room to room. It’s mind-blowing. Next level wealth. If I’d done what Dad wanted and married Seb Hawkston, I might have lived a life like this. The large open plan kitchen is all marble surfaces with sleek taps over a huge sink, and there isn’t a speck of dust anywhere. Even the sofa cushions in the vast living space are perfectly arranged and puffed up, like no mortal arse has ever squashed them. Everything is designer, from the multicoloured rug to the angular light-fitting hanging from the ceiling.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say. “The interiors are fab. I love it.”
“Thanks,” Lizzie says with a modest shrug. “Let me show you your room.”
I follow her down the corridor to the bedroom that will be mine. It’s different in here; not dark and leather-clad, but stylishly decorated with bold prints on the walls and colourful fabric on the headboard. It’s old-world English country chic with a modern twist. Feminine, but sensible. A large window looks out over Hyde Park. I want to pinch myself. I loved my dad’s little flat in St James’, but it was nothing compared to this. Most people could only ever dream of luxury on this scale.
“There’s a pool in the basement,” Lizzie tells me. “Squash courts too, if that’s your thing. Treatment rooms. If you need to go anywhere, there’s a Bentley in the basement car park with a driver who can take you.” She frowns. “There might be two Bentleys, actually. Anyway, while you’re living here, it’s all yours. Free rein. Pretend you’re me.”
“Wow.” I spin, taking it all in. “This is…” I grab Lizzie’s arm and shake it like I need to wake her from this dream too. “Wow.” She laughs, and I release her. “It’s so generous of you.”
She grins. “I’m happy to help. And there’s something I want to show you.” She leads me through to the adjoining dressing room, where the lights go on as we cross the threshold. “This is all yours too. Take a look.”
I step into the most glamorous dressing room I’ve ever seen, the open cupboards lit with downlights that cast a romantic glow over the empty hangers. It’s spectacular, but I haven’t got anything to hang here, let alone the money to replace the clothes Dad destroyed.
Oh, well. My salvaged tracksuits will look excellent lit up this way.
“And in here too,” Lizzie says, eyes bright as she grabs my hand and tugs me through to the huge, marble en-suite with a walk-in shower that would fit an elephant, and a bathtub that would just about do the same.
She stands back to let me view it all. “Better than the place in Uxbridge, right?” she says with a tiny smile.
I have to blink back the tears that have sprung to my eyes. I’ve never been offered anything like this without there being some ulterior motive, some hidden means of control, or some exertion of power over me. When Dad gave, he also took.
“I’m so grateful,” I say, sniffing. “Thank you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
She hugs me. “You never need to. I want to do this for you.” She squeezes me once more and steps back. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”
We head back in the direction of the kitchen, but as we reach the main hall again, Lizzie pauses.
“No,” comes a deep, irritated masculine voice.American? And… familiar. “That’s not what I said. For fuck’s sake.”
My pulse spikes.
“Who’s that?” I hiss. “Is someone here?”
Lizzie whispers back, “My dad.”
My mouth drops open. “You live with your dad?”
Lizzie snorts. “I’m eighteen. Did you think I lived in the Emblem penthousealone?”
I frown. “Actually, yeah.” I’ve lived alone for years, so for some reason it hadn’t occurred to me that Lizzie might not, even though she’s a little younger. “Your dad owns the Emblem penthouse?”