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The Helen Bianchin Collection

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Год написания книги
2018
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‘I want proof.’ The words were cool, controlled. ‘Facts,’ she elaborated, and glimpsed Cameron’s obvious discomfiture. ‘The how and why of it, and just how bad it is.’

‘You don’t believe me?’

‘I need to be aware of all the angles,’ she elaborated. ‘Before I confront Diego del Santo.’

Cameron went a paler shade of pale. ‘Confront?’

She fired him a look that quelled him into silence. ‘If he thinks I’ll meekly comply with whatever he has in mind, then he can think again!’

His mouth worked as he searched for the appropriate words. ‘Cass—’

‘Don’t Cass me.’ It was an endearing nickname that belonged to their childhood.

‘Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?’

She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. ‘I think it’s about time Diego del Santo discovered who he is dealing with!’ She pressed fingers to her throbbing temples in order to ease the ache there.

‘Cassandra—’

‘Can we leave this until tomorrow?’ She needed to think. Most of all, she wanted to be alone. ‘I’ll organise lunch, and we’ll go through the paperwork together.’

‘It’s Sunday.’

‘What does that have to do with it?’

Cameron lifted both hands in a gesture of conciliation. ‘Midday?’

‘Fine.’

She saw him out the door, locked up, then she removed her make-up, undressed, then slid into bed to stare at the darkened ceiling for what seemed an age, sure hours later when she woke that she hadn’t slept at all.

A session in the gym, followed by several laps of the pool eased some of her tension, and she re-entered her apartment, showered and dressed in jeans and a loose top, then crossed into the kitchen to prepare lunch.


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