Perfect Strangers

Lana raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? Did you ask him?’

Sophie frowned; she realised that they hadn’t.

‘No, but it’s the only thing that makes sense,’ she said. ‘The Russians came looking for me and found Nick instead.’

Lana gave a cruel laugh. ‘Do you really think Nick Beddingfield protected you? He would have told them everything he knew to save his skin.’

‘And maybe he told them about you. Maybe they knew about you all along.’

She was pleased to see a momentary look of concern pass over the other woman’s face.

‘Why the surprise?’ said Sophie. ‘Nick would do anything for money, you knew that. Why wouldn’t he have sold you out to another interested party if they paid slightly better?’

‘So why kill him?’ said Lana, recovering her composure.

‘I don’t know,’ said Sophie, suddenly feeling very tired. ‘Maybe he asked for too much money, maybe he screwed Sergei’s wife, who knows? There’re a lot of things I don’t know, and I’ll be honest with you, Lana, I’m sick of asking questions.’

She gave a weary shrug.

‘I’m going to bed. I’ll see you at sunrise.’

Stupid, thought Sophie as she climbed the stairs. So much for keeping Lana on side. But she’d been so smug, so condescending, Sophie hadn’t been able to stop herself. Standing up for yourself now? Another new side to mousy little Sophie Ellis, she thought with a smile. She wanted to talk to Josh about it, but as soon as she entered their room, she could tell he was already asleep, his back turned towards her.

Suddenly Sophie was filled with sadness. Were the barriers already up? Would she ever share a room with him after tonight? They had barely known each other more than a handful of days, and yet already she felt this man was a part of her. She stood there for a minute watching his chest rise and fall, then slowly pulled off her jeans and slid in next to him. She leant forward to kiss the back of his neck. He twitched but he did not waken, and Sophie lay there listening to the rain on the glass.

44

‘You’re pretty determined not to let me have a day off, aren’t you?’ Fox stood at the door of his Albert Embankment flat wearing a navy polo shirt, jeans and a mischievous smile.

‘Well, are you going to let me in or aren’t you?’ said Ruth, wedging her shoe in the door.

‘Are you always this forward?’ he said, standing back to let her pass.

‘Only when I want something,’ she replied. She was about to say something more, but her mouth fell open. ‘I don’t believe this place, you lucky sonofabitch.’

She walked through the flat’s spotless open-plan living room, her eyes wide. Ahead of her were floor-to-ceiling windows giving an uninterrupted view of the Houses of Parliament silhouetted against the sunset.

‘Fox! Why didn’t you tell me you were loaded?’ she said, looking back at him with amazement.

Fox smiled.

‘Not loaded,’ he said. ‘No kids, no wife, not many vices and an interest-only mortgage. Plus I don’t have any free time to spend my vast income.’

Ruth was too busy looking at the view to listen properly. She walked right up to the window, where dusk was falling over the city. It was magnificent.

‘Do you need a lodger?’ she asked, peeking into the other rooms, each equally neat.

‘We’ll work up to it,’ said Fox. ‘Could we start with a drink?’

‘I think I need a big one after this shock,’ she laughed.

‘How about a glass of wine?’

Fox went over to his chrome fridge – of course he had a chrome fridge – and got out a bottle of white wine, quickly opening it and pouring Ruth a glass.

She leant against the breakfast bar and giggled.

‘You are a dark horse, Fox.’