“He’s the Global Head of Finance for Midas Private Bank, and went to Rugby and Oxford and turned down a place on the Olympic team to build houses in Africa…”
Gretel tuned out.
Sondra’s new boyfriend sounded too good to be true, literally. He was either a fabulously skilled and plausible liar, or Sondra was the one doing the lying. Even odds on which one was the case.
Her phone buzzed against the table-top, a good excuse to cut into Sondra’s flow. She picked it up and choked. “Grets, what was your lad’s name again?”
“Sebastian Fitz-Maurice, it’s hyphenated.”
It certainly was, and apparently, so was Sebastian. Leastways he was in two parts according to the encrypted case brief she’d just been sent.
Sondra groaned. “It’s your stupid work again, isn’t it. You’re never going to meet him. And he’s got ever so many friends who are just perfect for you.”
Gretel grimaced. “I’m really sorry, but at least Maddie and George will get to meet him, and then they can fill me in. I’d rather not be the odd number on a double date anyway.”
“Oh, it’s okay, he’s bringing a friend. Look.” Sondra pulled a photo up on her phone of what looked like an ad for good dentistry. “Sebby’s the one on the right.”
And the one on the left was the aggravating Jameson James, who, according to the brief was her partner on this case.
Her grin was more clenched teeth than smile. “Yeah, he’s a bit of a cutie, let me know what he’s like. I’ll see you all later.”
A tall, dark figure pushed off the wall he was leaning against as she turned left out of the restaurant. “A bit of a cutie? I’m way more than cute, Ms Harrison.”
The DNA of Stories 