“Ms Ford-Talbot would like to know what business you have with her this evening?” the guy said at last.
“We’re staging a revolt and thought she’d like to be in on it,” Megan said.
He repeated her statement word for word then listened. “Of course, madam.”
He replaced the phone while Megan waited to be kicked out of the building. There was no way Rachel would entertain them. The woman only thought about herself and had made it perfectly clear that she considered everything else, beneath her notice.
“You may go up. Apartment five. Use the last elevator on the left.”
For a second Megan stared at the guy, unable to believe they had gained entrance to the princess’s tower, then she felt a tug on her sweater.
“Thanks,” she said as she followed Julia and Elle to the lift.
“Do you know that the cheapest apartment in this building goes for thirty-seven million pounds,” Elle said.
“No way!” Megan’s jaw dropped and she wondered if she should wipe her fingerprints from the elevator buttons. Or even better, erase her shabby presence from the building all together.
“Yep.” Elle nodded. “This is one of the most elite addresses in the world. And I can tell you for a fact that Rachel’s apartment is not the cheapest in the building—she’s in one of the split-level penthouse apartments.”
“How long has she lived here?” Megan wondered if she’d bought the place from the money she’d earned working for her cousin’s IT company. And if so, she wondered just how much Harry was paying his staff.
“She’s owned this place about three years. Before that she owned a house in Chelsea.” Elle smiled. “Right next door to her parents’ mansion.”
“Ah,” Megan said. “Silver spoon, huh?”
“Platinum spoon,” Elle corrected.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Julia said, and sure enough her face was grey.
“Hey.” Megan wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “It’s only money. Don’t be intimidated.”
Julia looked up at her as she swallowed hard. “It’s not the money. I met lots of wealthy people when I worked in television. It’s Rachel.” She leaned in and whispered. “She’s terrifying.”
Megan couldn’t disagree. “Stay behind me. I’ll protect you.”
“This should be fun,” Elle muttered.
A few minutes later they were standing on plush burgundy carpet outside the door to Rachel’s flat. Megan noted it was the only door in the hallway. It figured Rachel would have her own elevator—she probably had her own butler too. The door opened without them having to knock and to Megan’s surprise they weren’t greeted by the help, but by Rachel herself.
“You must be desperate if you came to me,” Rachel said by way of hello.
“No kidding,” Megan said.
Julia’s arms shot out. She thrust a box of cupcakes in Rachel’s direction. Her face had turned a deep shade of
red but no words came out of her open mouth. She seemed petrified in place.
“We brought cupcakes.” Elle took the box from Julia’s outstretched hands.
Rachel looked at it as though the sugar would jump out and bite her bony backside.
“Oh for goodness sake, it’s just cake. We’ll eat them. Rachel is afraid the calories will cling to her.” Megan rummaged around in her bag, bringing out some carrots and dip. “I got you carrot sticks and carb free, fat free, flavour free dip.” She shoved the lot into Rachel’s hands. “You’re welcome.” She pushed past her and into her flat.
No, not a flat, this was something else. The room was a vast open plan experience, with polished dark wooden floors interspersed with thick white carpets. There was space enough for three large sofas and two armchairs, all shades of white and cream, but with different patterns and textures. The cream walls had a plethora of modern art, some of it Megan even recognised. The paintings were original, expensive and added colour to the room. But the best part of the whole space was the wall of floor to ceiling windows that showed a panoramic view of Hyde Park and the lights of London.
“Holy hell,” Megan hissed. “Just how rich are you, Rachel?”
“It’s crass to ask someone about their wealth.” Rachel sauntered past her to the cool white marble-topped breakfast bar between the living room and the kitchen. The kitchen cabinets were a deep, reflective red. Like blood. Megan shuddered. It suited Rachel to a tee.