Cathy Williams - 8 Magnificent Millionaires

Turning her back reluctantly, Liadan told herself that those muscular broad shoulders of Adrian’s could handle whatever was troubling him right now. He’d survived this far without any help from her, hadn’t he? She just hoped that those reporters tomorrow wouldn’t give him too hard a time. Once they had their statement from Adrian’s solicitor, she prayed they would just pack up and leave as quickly as possible. She’d make something special for dinner tomorrow night, she decided, her spirits momentarily lifting. A wonderful meal wouldn’t solve his problems, but the care she put into preparing it might just convince him that someone cared about his well-being.

‘That was a first-rate cup of coffee, Liadan. Thank you. Now, Adrian, my friend, I think we’d better go and appease the wolves, don’t you?’

Edward Barry, Adrian’s solicitor, surprisingly turned out to be an attractive young man in his mid to late thirties, immaculately dressed in a beautiful Armani suit, his dark blond hair equally impeccably cut and styled. He had a twinkle in his eye that suggested to Liadan that he didn’t take himself too seriously, yet at the same time there was a distinct air of reliability about him—as if you could count on him not to let you down. Inwardly Liadan was hugely relieved. Adrian needed someone like Edward Barry on his side right now. The crush of reporters at the door was truly frightening to her inexperienced eye and she couldn’t wait for them to be gone. They’d been camping out in the gardens of the house since before dawn with their cars and their camera equipment, apparently immune to the now-slushy melting snow and the biting cold, clearly willing to endure any hardship in anticipation of coming face to face with their quarry.

Bending forward to clear the table of drained cups and saucers, Liadan briefly caught Adrian’s eye. It was hard to detect exactly what was going through his mind just then because his attractive face was carefully blank. She wanted to say ‘good luck’ or something like that but decided that it sounded too asinine. Like wishing someone good luck when they were about to be thrown to the lions, she silently reflected. So instead she just ventured a smile, hoping he knew that she prayed his encounter with the press wouldn’t be too awful or painful.

Adrian’s arresting dark eyes narrowed briefly, as if silently acknowledging her support, then without further preamble he opened the door and led his solicitor out of the kitchen.

Making herself return to the rooms on the second floor that needed vacuuming, Liadan headed straight for one of the two large windows in the first room that overlooked the front gardens, unable to resist taking a peek outside. The stone steps were covered in wall-to-wall people, all, it seemed, shouting Adrian’s name, demanding he look this way or that while cameras popped aggressively. Like a swarm of vultures fighting over a carcass. Her pulse racing, Liadan bit down on her thumb, the force of her teeth almost biting through the flesh. Anger, swift and powerful, roared through her blood at the sight that met her gaze. How dared they? How dared they invade his home like this, as if they had every right to storm in like some self-righteous marauding army? Surely they must know this whole sorry episode had been engineered by Petra Collins’ publicity machine, purely to make her look good and Adrian look bad?

Not even concerning herself with why she so readily believed Adrian’s side of the story, Liadan raised her hand to the window, letting her palm rest against the icy glass pane. Her ears strained to hear above the noise as Edward Barry’s impressive voice begged for quiet so that he could make a statement on Adrian’s behalf.

At the end of the statement, which was dignified yet blunt, and in no way stooped to denigrate Petra Collins either as a woman or as an actress, Edward led Adrian back inside and the crowd on the steps reluctantly started to disperse. Moving away from the window with a sigh, relieved that Adrian’s ordeal was for the moment at an end, Liadan switched on the vacuum cleaner to resume her work.

But as the harsh sound filled the formerly silent room she forced herself to remember that she was after all only Adrian Jacobs’ housekeeper and not even someone he might think of as a friend. She had no need and no right to concern herself unnecessarily about his welfare. But even though logic begged her to see sense, Liadan couldn’t prevent the helpless yearning that seemed to have taken root in her heart since their impromptu conversation in the kitchen last night. All she could do was pray that she would snap out of such foolishness soon…

At lunchtime she took Adrian coffee and sandwiches. As she rested the tray on top of the piano as usual Liadan glanced at him sidelong to try and gauge his mood. They hadn’t exchanged words since Edward Barry had left earlier, because Adrian had gone directly back to his study to work. Now as she watched him, his attention apparently wholly absorbed by what was on the computer screen in front of him, she marvelled at the fact that he could lose himself in his work so thoroughly when this morning he’d had to face that horrible unsettling scene on his doorstep.

‘How’s it going?’ Liadan surprised herself with the question. She hadn’t intended to ask it and, now that she had, she wished she hadn’t. Adrian turned his head to stare at her as if only just realising she was there.

‘Okay.’ He didn’t elaborate and Liadan knew it was probably a hint that she should not disturb him any further and leave. But somehow, because she had been so concerned about him, she couldn’t just leave things at that without satisfying herself that he really was okay. ‘No man is an island,’ the phrase went, and right now she surmised he could probably use a friend or two.

‘What’s the book about?’

As he shook his head slightly Adrian’s dark gaze became immediately guarded—as if he’d endured enough invasion into his privacy for one day and wouldn’t endure any more.

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘I’m interested.’

Folding her arms across her sky-blue sweater, Liadan smiled. Brave it out, she told herself. Don’t let him frighten you off with those foreboding dark glances of his.

‘You don’t like my books. There are no happy endings, remember? Only the inevitable conclusion that life is dark and ultimately dangerous and we’d better arm ourselves in any way we can to deal with it.’

‘That’s a very sad and pessimistic outlook, if you don’t mind my saying.’

Adrian shrugged. ‘You can say what you like. It’s the truth.’

‘No, it isn’t.’ Her passionate conviction that he was so wrong prevented Liadan from being more cautious. Feeling heat rush into her face, she forced herself to meet his suddenly hard, unflinching glance.

‘Life is what you make it. The old saying is true. If you believe everything is dark and dangerous and you should be prepared to meet the worst, then that’s what you’ll probably pull towards you. But if you nurture optimism and expect the best—then that’s what you’ll attract. I know you must have been hurt in the past and you’ve seen some things in your career that no one should ever have to witness, but you shouldn’t let it colour your future. Whatever happened.’

Pain cramped his throat as old, hurtful memories suddenly deluged him—in particular Nicole lying on that hard sun-baked sidewalk, her beautiful hair caked in blood…Adrian got up from his chair and paced angrily to the window. Just who the hell did this woman think she was, walking in here and telling him he shouldn’t let his past colour his future? She hadn’t even lived yet!

‘Do me a favour, will you? Keep your cosy little homilies about life to yourself, Liadan. I hired you to be my housekeeper—not my life coach. If I feel the need to converse with someone like that I’ll go and see a professional. Understood?’