‘A good assistant is someone with good time management skills, good communication skills, and the ability to balance a lot of very different tasks at the same time,’ I replied with well-earned confidence. ‘But the difference between a good assistant and a brilliant assistant is the ability to anticipate potential problems before they arise. You’ve got to be prepared for whatever comes at you when the job turns out to be equal parts assistant, therapist, and best friend, but still know your boundaries. And you should always have mints. I’ve basically got stock in Tic Tacs.’

‘Congratulations,’ she said. ‘You’ve got the job.’

A feeling that used to be familiar shot through me. Was it excitement? Happiness? There was an outside chance it was pride, but it had been so long since I’d encountered that particular emotion, it was too difficult to tell.

‘And now I can tell you who you’ll be working for,’ she added, rattling her short, neat nails on the desk in a drumroll. ‘You are officially the new personal assistant to Juliette.’

She held up her hands, fingers stretched out wide like shooting stars as I stared back at her blankly.

‘Juliette who?’

‘Juliette,’ Sarah repeated. ‘The Juliette.’

My mouth dried up, my throat tightened, and I quickly scrolled through all the possible mononymous Juliettes on the planet.

And there she was.

‘You mean Juliette, the singer, Juliette?’ I asked.

‘If there’s one thing I could advise you to learn very quickly,’ Sarah stood and smoothed down her red silk shirt before starting up the spiral staircase. ‘It’s that there is only one Juliette.’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘Oh wow, it’s gorgeous,’ I breathed as I hauled my heavy suitcase up the final step of the narrow spiral staircase. The cramped, claustrophobic office bloomed into a huge, modern loft with the most impressive and presumably expensive view of the Thames I had ever seen.

‘Yes,’ Sarah replied, marching across the room without taking her eyes off her phone. ‘It is.’

The living area flowed seamlessly into the kitchen, where sparkling stainless-steel surfaces clashed tastefully against the exposed brick, and bright green potted plants shone with all the confidence of too much money. It was pure interior design porn, straight from the Architectural Digest centrefold spread of my dreams, and I had to wipe my chin to make sure I wasn’t drooling. If this was the accommodation Rose had mentioned on the phone, I really needed to look into squatter’s rights, as soon as possible.

‘Really, it’s stunning,’ I said, still taking in all the beautiful custom features. Farmhouse sink, be still my heart. ‘Is it your flat?’

Sarah opened a built-in fridge and took out two Fiji waters while I pleaded with all known deities for her to say no.