Free Blurred Lines (Behind Closed Doors Book 2) by Erin Cawood

Ashleigh is dreadfully time consuming, and well, she’s acting like a diva.
    I laughed out loud. Ashleigh is the easiest going and least objectionable person I know as long as things are going her way, which of course, is always. But I guess I’d never really met the side of Ashleigh that she’s always referred to as her dark side, Krystal. Because everything is done Krystal’s way, or it’s not done at all.
    “If she'd have been my child she would never have got away with it,” Liv said. “Besides Tristen Michaels, you're probably Ashleigh’s only other true friend. I’m one hundred per cent certain she’ll never take advantage of that. In fact, I’m relying on it.”
    I think she realized I was a little offended that I was getting the job based on who I know and not based on what I can do, because she added, “Don’t get me wrong, Julia, you majored in fashion at college and worked for a respectable label before you came out to LA.”
    One of the biggest labels in fashion is just respectable? I don't quarrel, because I've been out of work for almost four years and in fashion terms it might as well be a decade it really does move on so fast.
    “But where Krystal is concerned, I need someone who she’ll listen to. She’s a twin, and right now, she’s furious over the suggestions that they’re exactly alike in every way. So you’ll be tasked with completely overhauling her style, making it unique and then maintaining and refreshing it. I think this is where your friendship is most valuable. You know her, and you have been giving her style advice for years. The only difference is that now you’ll get paid for it.”
    So the opportunity of any job, let alone a coveted role as celebrity style consultant, is too good to be true. It sounds fabulous, but I've soon discovered that it's really nothing more than going on a couple of shopping trips, picking out outfits, occasionally talking to designers and merchandisers vying for an endorsement and running errands. I do get an unlimited budget to do whatever I please with, because Ashleigh trusts me.
    We could do with my salary. Wayne wants to move. He’s come to hate our cozy little shoe box apartment. He doesn't like being in a communal area where anyone can wander in and out and just come and go as they please. He hates the area in general. He keeps bringing home realtor's brochures of houses that he likes but we just can't afford them.
    Wayne is on high alert all the time. It seems the less I worry about what happened the more he does. He's constantly sending text messages and calling me. Sometimes it's like being a child. If I'm home late he's calling to find out where I am, how long I'm going to be and if I don't answer there's hell on. What if I'm driving? Would he like me to have an accident?
    He'd already taken Ashleigh's word that the job was mine and begun looking at better, nicer, more secure houses for us to buy as soon as the holiday season was over. He insisted we move into a very nice part of California. One that had good schools and a low crime rate. I'm stylist to the stars now, he said. We can't live in a dive. I was more than angry when I found the documents to our new house on the kitchen table. He'd already gone ahead and bought it!
    “You weren't interested,” he told me when I asked him why he'd bought a house without consulting me. “You said as long as there was four walls, a roof, it had at least one window and a door and there was room enough for you and me, you didn't care where we lived. You and I being together was what was more important.”
    True. I had said that. I had repeatedly said it because we couldn't afford to move out of our apartment before I started working for Ashleigh and he prowled around it like a caged tiger because he didn't think I was safe there anymore. He doesn't think I'm safe anywhere and yet the police psychiatrist said he was handling the targeted attack on his fiancée better than expected.
    It's March