Kailash had a golden rule–never betray or let down family or friends. It was one that she had only taken to relatively recently, but she was now a true convert. What had happened to and between us in recent years had made her convinced that we would never be apart again, even if we were still learning about each other, but it was hard going at times. Clients and work were way down her list of life’s priorities, and she made that clear to everyone. The girls and boys she employed were the family she’d made herself, so although she spent long hours in her businesses, she didn’t consider it work. I didn’t want to say too much because Graham Marshall clearly wanted discretion, but there was no harm in saying he’d come to my office; besides, he might be a friend of hers. I leaned forward, my voice hushed.

‘Now this is top secret.’ I glanced around at the girls but a flash of annoyance crossed all their faces. In their line of work, they knew how to keep their traps shut. ‘Don’t breathe a word of this unless I give you the say-so.’ The girls nodded. Kailash rolled her eyes and feigned disinterest.

‘Dr Graham Marshall,’ I said.

Even Kailash perked up at the sound of his name. ‘Really?’ She thought for a moment. ‘He’s good, Brodie, very good–I’ve used him.’

My mother rarely spoke about what she’d had done. She was beautiful, and naturally so–but she wasn’t shy about enhancing and investing in what she already had. I looked at her in the warm glow of the real fire in the kitchen. Gorgeous dark hair–but filled out with extensions. Perfect figure for someone in her forties (a damn sight better than mine)–but undoubtedly helped by impossibly pert implants, something Kailash would never deign to speak about directly. A face to launch a thousand fantasies–fantasies that were helped by veneers, acid peels, Botox and plumpers. She was encased in a business suit that probably cost as much as one of the procedures she saw as an investment, and was walking in five-inch heels, looking as if she was enjoying a level of comfort that most women could only manage with a pair of Crocs. Kailash Coutts was a product. She had created herself after her early years were ruined by others. Raped as a child, left for dead by one of my father’s minions after she gave birth to me in chains, my mother had found strength from God knows where, and she had turned what men had used her for into her fortune.

‘So, what did he do for you?’ I asked, knowing she wouldn’t answer.