Free Falling from Grace: A Billionaire Romantic Suspense series (The Filth Monger Series Book 1) by Annabel Chant

visibly. ‘Once is more than enough. Keep it,’ he said. ‘But keep it safe. No fuck ups.’
    ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘You have my word.’
    ‘I hope so.’ He opened the door, to show me out. ‘And if there’s anything I can do…’
    I stopped there, in the doorway. This was my chance. ‘Actually,’ I said. ‘There is something I could use your help with…’

Thirteen
     
     
    By the time Liv got in, I was asleep. I was so exhausted I’d eventually lain down and drifted off, even over the incessant throb of the music. I awoke to the sound of raised voices. The music had stopped and someone was crying – a low, wailing sound.
    At first, I thought it was Liv, and I froze. I’d just got up, ready to go down and fight her corner, when I heard her shout something and the front door slammed. I went downstairs, hesitantly. I felt like I was intruding.
    Liv was standing by the front door, looking at herself in a mirror. She was obviously dissatisfied with what she saw, because she leaned over and ruffled her short, dark hair, pushing at it to make it stand up. I didn’t know why she bothered. Her pixie-cut locks always looked immaculate, and framed her pale face, with its dark eyes and tip-tilted nose, perfectly. She was stunning in a thrown-together kind of way, and was never out of a pair of jeans outside of work. She span around when she heard my footsteps, and looked up at me. ‘Dick,’ she said, nodding towards the door with an apologetic smile. ‘Did we wake you, hon?’
    I shook my head. ‘It’s fine.’
    ‘My fucking hair.’ She ran her fingers through it again, throwing her reflection a critical look.
    ‘It’s fine,’ I said again.
    ‘I’m growing it out.’ She turned back to me. ‘Fuck knows why.’
    I laughed. ‘So what’s the deal with you and Nick Cave’s baby brother?’ I started to walk downstairs.
    ‘Don’t even ask.’ She gave a sad smile and opened her arms in a welcoming gesture. ‘Musically, we’re compatible. Sexually… not so much… and domestically…’ She shuddered visibly. ‘I’m not his bloody mother!’
    I reached the bottom of the stairs, and fell into her embrace. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me to her as if she wanted to squeeze the hurt out of me. I started crying again. God, would I ever stop?
    ‘It’s okay, sweetie,’ she murmured in my ear. ‘It’s gonna be fine. Just let it all come out. I’ve got you.’
    I went through the whole sobbing scenario all over again, right there in her hallway.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ I croaked, eventually. ‘I can’t seem to stop at the moment.’
    ‘Shut up,’ she said. ‘It’s been one day.’
    She put her arm around my waist, and shepherded me through into her living room. It was magenta too, the paint daubed thickly over the wallpaper. Sagging patchwork sofas dominated the room, brought into focus by the open fireplace.
    From the mantelpiece, a photo of her mum frowned down, flanked by growths of candle and incense sticks. It was practically a shrine, but Mum didn’t seem too impressed. She was probably pissed off by Liv’s refurbishment of the place, if that was the word I wanted. Looking at the heavy, black curtains and the cigarette burns on the carpet, refurbishment seemed an over-enthusiastic description, but the place suited Liv and, now Gav had gone, it suited me. Even so, I couldn’t stop moving, pacing again, restless.
    ‘You can stay as long as you want, hon,’ Liv said, lighting a cigarette. ‘No problem. Now, stop wearing out the shag pile, for fuck’s sake, and sit down.’
    I did as I was bidden. ‘Thanks,’ I said, and I meant it so much. ‘I didn’t know where to go. I rang my sister…’
    ‘Don’t.’ Liv shot me a look of disdain. ‘That self-satisfied bitch. Talking of which, there’s something I should probably tell you, and you’re not going to like it…’

Fourteen
     
     
    ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake…’ Liv came back into the living room carrying two cups