The officer by the door opened it and Giles exited. I went to follow him but, as I got to the door, she called me back. ‘Oh, and Mr Fforbes?’

‘Yes.’ I turned to look at her, loathing for her coursing through every part of me.

‘Don’t think this means you’re off the hook. We just haven’t got the evidence yet.’

I shook my head and left the room without a word.

Giles was waiting outside. ‘I’ll drive you home,’ he said. ‘Where are you going? The hotel or the Castle?’

‘The hotel.’

I needed to gather my thoughts. There was something nasty in the woodshed, that much was all too apparent, and I needed to figure out what the hell it was.

‘So what changed?’ I said, as we drove away from the police station and towards my home turf of Knightsbridge.

‘Forensics came in.’

We’d pulled up at a set of traffic lights and Giles took the chance to reach into the back of the car. When he turned back to me, he had a newspaper in his hand. He passed it to me. ‘There was so much DNA everywhere, they did a rush job – it could’ve been any number of people.’

‘I can imagine,’ I said. In her line of work, it wasn’t surprising. I’d have laid money on it that it was all semen. ‘But I was their prime suspect.’

‘Until they took the blood from under her fingernails.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘It wasn’t a match – different group entirely. Incidentally, you might want to look at that.’ He indicated the paper, as he pulled away, back into the traffic.

I lifted it up, spreading out the front page to read it, and my heart sank. The main headline read:

FFORBES THE FILTH MONGER

I rolled my eyes. It was always bound to come out in the end. I cursed myself, once again, for ever having those business cards printed, but it wasn’t the headline about me that had made my heart sink. It was the one beneath it:

I LOVE LEO AND JUST WANT HIM BACK

…together with a photo of Grace looking the worse for wear and hanging onto her friend’s arm. Liv, the same friend who’d led her from the bank, that very first day. The friend who’d found me so amusing last time I’d visited Max at Ffyvells.

It was like stepping back in time, seeing her that way again. But this time, instead of pitying her and wanting to protect her, I just felt empty inside. Granted, a lot had happened since, but it was really only a day since she’d told me she loved me. Could her feelings change that quickly? Could I matter so little to her? Evidently I could, and I stared out at the shops of Knightsbridge, cursing Charlotte, cursing Grace and, most of all, cursing myself.

I barely managed a nod at the receptionists, as I entered the hotel, and headed up to my penthouse in a daze. Once inside, I kicked off my shoes, threw my jacket over a chair, and went into the bedroom. I lay on the bed, to read the article properly.

She’d been crying, it said, and I felt a pang of guilt. I remembered her face as I left, so shocked after the happiness that had illuminated it just moments before, and I knew I was the cause. Christ, the girl had the world at her feet at the moment. The last thing she needed was to get caught up in my shit.

She’d clearly realised as much. Maybe going back to Leo Sparkes seemed a better idea. I wasn’t convinced she was right about that, but I knew she was right about me. I was chaos clothed in a catastrophe – had been ever since Charlotte had got her claws into me – and best kept at a safe distance. I had to stop being selfish, and think of her. I could ruin her career before it ever took off.

I was glad, at least, that she had that. The thought of her working for Max forever made me grit my teeth. At least she had an escape, and I couldn’t spoil that for her. If I truly loved her, I had to keep away from her, and let her find happiness with someone more stable, even if that meant Leo Sparkes.

The mere thought made me want to punch the pillow. Stable? What was I thinking? Fuck, he’d let himself into her mate’s house and physically assaulted her. Clearly he loved her - that was beyond question - but to fuck another woman behind her back, then attack her because she left him, didn’t suggest he’d make her any happier than I could. I didn’t know what to think. Should I go to her? Plead my case? Or just leave it? I couldn’t be constantly looking out for her, dictating her movements, but I wondered how safe she’d be if I left her to make her own choice.

My thoughts were all over the place, going round in circles and, in the end, I couldn’t face thinking about it anymore. She’d made her decision, apparently, and it was just a matter of time before they got back together, whatever I wanted. In her eyes, I was convicted already. If I had any chance of winning her back, I had to prove, beyond reasonable doubt, that I was innocent. But how?

I mentally ran through all that had happened in the past week or so. It all added up, and yet it didn’t. Everything seemed clear cut but the results. How had I come to be arrested over Charlotte’s murder? Who the hell had killed her? Why did I smell a fucking six-foot, blond haired rat?

I played over events in my head. Something wasn’t right. Something was so not right, it was practically left. I should’ve known what it was, I was sure. I’d voice some of my concerns to Giles, but they were pure conjecture. I’d been sure at first it was Rick, but it couldn’t have been. Charlotte had been killed only two nights before, and Rick was…not around…to do it.

I couldn’t focus properly to think straight, that was the problem. The bed in the cell had been hard, the cell itself cold, yet suffocating. I’d hardly slept a wink and now, on my own bed, in my own bedroom, I was suddenly ridiculously tired. In the end, I gave up thinking entirely, and surrendered to a deep, if troubled, sleep.

    Six

Her

In the end, I had the car stop by the bank before I went on to the photo shoot. I was feeling lousy, but not as bad as I’d been expecting. I’d slept through from when Liv had put me to bed, and woken early, so I’d had time to sort myself out.

Max was in his office when I arrived, reading the paper. He looked up when I knocked at his door.

‘Grace,’ he said, brandishing the paper. ‘I did warn you, didn’t I?’

I took it from him, flushing as I read the headline.

‘I take it you haven’t seen it, then,’ he said. ‘My esteemed friend has been up to his tricks again.’

My horrified face must have answered his question, because he carried on. ‘I think you’ll find the rest of the page interesting, too.’

I scanned down to the bottom, and immediately felt sick. ‘Oh, god, Max. I’m sorry.’

‘You’re drawing far too much attention to yourself,’ he said, coolly. ‘I don’t need the constant calls from the press. It’s getting out of hand.’

‘I’m sorry, Max.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I need to ask you a favour.’

He looked distinctly unimpressed. ‘Which is?’

‘I…have somewhere I need to be today.’

‘And it’s more important than being here?’

I stared at him, not knowing how to answer.

‘Fair enough,’ he said, standing up to see me out. ‘But Grace?’

‘Yes?’

‘I think it’s time you started to sort yourself out.’ He followed me to the door. ‘Lower your profile and knuckle down. This team can’t take passengers.’

I was still on the way to the photo shoot, Max’s words ringing in my ears, when I received a call from a number I didn’t recognise. I answered, and I didn’t recognise the voice either.

‘Grace?’ It was a woman’s voice, young. She spoke quickly, as if she were busy and didn’t have much time. ‘It’s Summer. Sam’s PA.’

  Sam was Leo’s manager, and I immediately panicked. ‘What’s the matter? Is something wrong with Leo?’

‘I don’t know, Grace. He won’t speak to me.’ She sounded worried, and her words did nothing to soothe my own anxiety. ‘He didn’t come to training over the weekend. I’ve just been round to see him and he’s in a right state. Dishevelled…bruised… He says he was beaten up.’