Lance was there now, of course, lounging around Montana’s beachfront home. He had been present for the will reading, though not visible to the rest of the Norton clan. And if prior to the lawyer’s revelations he had always thought of Montana’s father as ‘some old British dude’ who was good for little more than keeping Montana and, by extension, him, living in the manner to which she, and by extension he, had become accustomed, then his opinion had performed a 180-degree turn. Having heard of the old man’s post-mortem plans for the dispersal of his fortune, Lance now thought that Sir Charles Norton was an absolute total fucking legend.

As if on cue, Montana appeared. She flopped into the sofa beside Lance, but when he attempted to move closer, she waved him away. One of the things Lance had quickly discovered about his girlfriend was that although she dressed, spoke and behaved as though she were a dyed-in-the-wool, 100-percent through-and-through sex kitten, she was in fact nothing of the sort. Any activity that might slightly rumple her clothes or interfere with her make-up was strictly verboten, and that included anything south of chaste kissing. But Lance wasn’t in the mood to press for affection. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. Instead, he hopped up. ‘Drink?’

She looked at him. ‘My father used to ask if the sun was over the yardarm,’ she said disapprovingly, since the sun was nowhere near the yardarm.

‘I’ve had our yardarm lowered especially,’ Lance told her, with the kind of cheeky grin that used to drive her crazy but now just annoyed her.

Still. Twirling her hair between her fingertips, she nodded. ‘Why not? Before he gets here.’

‘Coming right up.’ Lance left for the kitchen, thinking that if it weren’t for this latest development – this exciting latest development – then he’d be out of here no matter how much she was fucking worth. Would he be waving goodbye to a life of luxury if he did leave? In many ways yes, but the fact was that he would always be Montana Norton’s ex, and that alone was enough to ensure that he would land on his feet elsewhere.

Even so, he had no plans to leave. This new business? This game? Well, that was worth sticking around for. Especially since Montana had charged him with the responsibility of sorting things out his end. ‘You’re a bloke, aren’t you?’ she’d said to him. ‘This is a job for a bloke.’