“This was taken on the first day I bought into the business, after Albert Thrang died. Your father loaned me the money to buy the business.”

Byron nodded. “I know—my father said he trusted you implicitly. That’s why I came to you, Jaunty.” Byron had lived her life as a man through the centuries when running an international business as a woman would have been difficult. As time went by, and the culture changed, she felt able to come out as her true self, but she was always naturally more masculine than feminine and expressed herself that way both in her clothes and sexually. Jaunty, as her tailor, gave her the discretion she needed, and never blinked an eye as he measured her up for her suits, and found her to be wearing a strap-on. This was just who she was, and he’d always accepted it.

“I know why you came to me.” Jaunty showed her the picture and pointed at the tall man in the picture who looked so much like Byron, except for the artificially induced salt-and-pepper hair.

“This was forty-seven years ago, and your father hasn’t aged a day.”

Normally her family didn’t keep up long-term friendships, so these difficulties didn’t arise. But Michal was very fond of Jaunty, so was Byron, and now she was falling for his niece. She had never planned on this relationship, but after the first taste of Amelia’s lips, she knew she could not turn her back on her, despite the many problems a relationship posed for someone like her, and despite vowing long ago to never ever care for a woman again.

Byron was reminded of that close friend from a long time ago who had prophesized that one day a young woman would come along and pierce her impenetrable heart. Byron had never believed it—until recently.

“I could never hurt her, and I would do anything to keep her safe, I can promise you that. This holiday is to work out what we can be together. I’ve never taken a chance like this, never let someone into my world like this.”

Jaunty let out a breath. “You need to be so careful, Byron. My girl is head over heels for you.”

This should have sent her fleeing in fear—it always had done before if any women she slept with got too close—but Amelia was different. She was her girl, shining with goodness, and that goodness lit up the dark parts of her.

Byron’s hearing picked up the sound of Amelia’s heels on the wooden floors. “She’s coming. You don’t have anything to worry about, Jaunty. Amelia is safe with me.”

* * *

Amelia gave her uncle a kiss goodbye at the door of Grenville and Thrang, and said, “Give Uncle Simon a kiss from me.”

“I will. Keep in touch, okay, sweetie?” Jaunty said.

Amelia stepped back and allowed Byron to shake hands with her uncle, before saying, “I’ll email you lots of pics, Uncle Jaunty.”

Amelia looped her arm through Byron’s and was escorted over to Byron’s blacked-out Daimler. As always there were another two blacked-out limos parked behind Byron’s. Byron had explained early on that she travelled with a lot of security, due to her business, but Amelia had always found it strange that a banker needed so much protection, especially the unusual people who headed up Byron’s security team. Where other personal security people serving politicians or the rich and famous usually wore a standard uniform of a bland suit, Byron’s team wore black combat trousers and black combat boots, as if they were ready for war.