‘You need a break, Marlowe.’ Brendan sounds weary, and I realise he and Athena must have had a pretty early start to have got themselves here by lunchtime. He reaches into his pocket and slides a platinum Amex from his wallet. ‘If you can sort out the room situation, I’d be grateful,’ he tells Athena. ‘Whatever it takes. I want a decent bed for Marlowe too, okay? None of this armchair sh—rubbish.’

She takes it from him and nods briskly. ‘Leave it with me. Now go. You’re no use to anyone if you run yourself into the ground. Brendan—take good care of my girl.’

‘I will,’ he promises, his face solemn.

I’ve definitely been ambushed, but I’m not sure it’s a bad thing.

CHAPTER 45

Marlowe

Brendan holds my hand as we weave through the bowels of the hospital, and I let him. He holds it in the fancy car that’s waiting outside for him, complete with driver, and I let him. He doesn’t mean anything romantic by it—I’m pretty sure it’s just that I’m clearly not with it and in need of a little guidance. A little friendly comfort. That’s how it feels. Friendly and supportive. I may have given him short shrift in there, but I’m too exhausted to keep on pretending a piece of me isn’t glad to see him.

On the short journey to his hotel, he asks me in great detail about the surgical procedure Tabby’s just undergone. Some of his questions are too complex for me to even answer. Neither of us touches the elephants in the room: the fact that I’ve lied to him consistently since applying for the job and that he treated me like dirt last time I saw him.

Instead, he asks me about me. About how I’m holding up. How long it’s been since I slept in a bed. Since I’ve showered. Eaten a square meal. Judging by the set of his jaw and the thin line his lips make, he doesn’t like my answers one bit.

He’s staying in a luxurious suite that’s about four times bigger than my flat, with a vast living area and a beautiful terrace. After several days of being holed up in hospital hell, it feels like I’ve died and gone to heaven.

‘Do you want me to leave?’ he asks, stopping to look at me, his expression unsure. He’s still gripping my crappy little suitcase. This is a far less confident version of Brendan than the one I’m used to seeing.

I sigh. ‘No. You’re fine.’ It’s his hotel suite, after all.

‘Okay, then. What do you need first? Shower? Nap? Food?’