“Writing.”
“The next bestseller?”
Hardly. These words will never be read by anyone but me.
“Or are you moonlighting as Lee Lawson?” Calvin is one of the few people who knows about my dual identity.
“Something like that.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
"Don't be." We might be friends, but I'm not going to tell him that I'm writing a fictional fantasy about fucking a guy who looks like the PA I've just hired. "What did you want?"
“I was going to invite you to lunch, but it sounds like you’re too busy.”
"Don't you have a photo shoot or something?"
“Not today. I’m all yours if you want me to be.”
I laugh. Nothing could be further from the truth. Calvin is gorgeous, but not someone I could ever lust after. I know he feels the same way too. That doesn’t stop him from sounding flirtatious—it’s the way he is.
“I’ve got a deadline.”
“Shame. Call me when you’ve got time for me.”
I hang up the call and turn my attention back to the words I was writing, but the initial fire I’d felt has fizzled out. It’s for the best. I save the document and close it. As much as I don’t want to, Ineedto focus on writing the Orion King novel. Where had I left my jaded detective? Ah yes, facing down three thugs in a dark alleyway. Fun.
3
Archie
It takes me a while to figure out the best route home, but it's worth it to know exactly how to get to Hamish's again by nine the next morning. My brothers and I rent a four-bedroom house in Basildon, just over a mile from the train station, which has a direct line to central London. It's not much to look at, but the best we can afford between the three of us. Besides, we've made it our home. It's in the middle of a row of three-storey townhouses, each one painted a slightly different colour. Ours is lemon yellow, next door to the right is cream, and to the left is orange—all pretty cheerful.
I take my shoes off in the porch and put them away on the rack. Blake’s home. I can tell because his military boots have been kicked off in a heap. I put them away too and then hang my coat up. I can hear talking downstairs, so I head into the room that runs all the way from the front to the back of the house. Despite being open plan, it’s roughly divided into three areas. The front is a lounge. There’s a small square table in the middle that normally has four chairs nested around it and then a kitchen with cabinets and appliances on each side of the room and patio doors at the far end, leading to our long back garden.
Lexi, Blake, and two dolls are sitting at the kitchen table, all dressed up in glittery pink with wings and make-up.
“Hey.” Blake grins at me cheerfully. “How was the interview with the agency?”
“We’re having a fairy princess tea party,” Lexi says. “Do you want to join us?” Her little lips droop into a frown. “I don’t have another fairy princess costume.” She gasps. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Idohave a wand.”
“Why don’t you go get it?” Blake asks, winking at me.
Our niece jumps up and dashes out the door. Her feet pounding up the stairs sound more like an elephant than a tiny five-year-old girl.
“How did she rope you into this?” I ask.
Blake replies with a care-free smile. “When your niece asks you to have a fairy princess party, you have a fairy princess party. Tell me about your interview?”
I move one of the dolls onto the sofa and sit at the table. “It was weird.”
“Weird good or weird bad?”
I shrug. “Just weird. The woman read my references, asked me a few questions, and then sort of offered me a job working for Hamish Cameron.”
Blake’s eyes light up. They’re an identical shade of green as mine. “TheHamish Cameron? The one you've got a whole bookcase dedicated to?"
“I do not.”
