Protection Read Online Free PDF

hours of hard work, that you put in, none of this would be here.”
    Thus, the ritual had been born.
    Not that Carrie had initially given its chances of success much credence. The first time she’d attempted to take the agent’s advise, she’d simply felt stupid. Wandering around her home, dolled up to the nines, trying to convince herself that she did deserve the twelve bedrooms, the four bathrooms, the huge, sweeping staircase and the opulent entrance hall with marble fittings was to her mind, simply daft. As was trying to make herself believe that the spacious lounge with its comfortable furniture and the panoramic views of glorious, sweeping countryside were hers by right and not just thanks to blinding good luck.
    Nor did she feel any better when she entered the dining room and run a hand along the polished, walnut table and across the backs of eight Regency style chairs with the memory of the ancient and battered old thing her family had been forced to eat off still fresh in her mind. Or when she wandered into the kitchen and saw everything sparkling and new. The remains of the evening meal nothing but a fading aroma mingling with the smell of Amanda’s home made bread, proving that this kitchen did actually function.
    In the entrance hall again, she’d still felt silly and crossing over to her study, she’d hastily let herself in. Only then starting to feel better.
    This was her sanctuary. Her bolt hole. A place that not even Amanda was allowed to enter. A rule which drove the loyal housekeeper mad with frustration, but which no amount of pleading would make Carrie sway from. This space was hers, and if it needed dusting or hoovering, she would do it. Amanda could stand on the other side of the door gasping at the thought of her employer actually running a bit of pledge over the shelves all she liked, it wouldn’t change anything. In here, she had total control. She could lounge in her leather chair with her bare feet on the desk and do nothing if she wanted. She could eat a sandwich and not care about crumbs. She could even swig straight from the bottle and then belch without anyone raising a disapproving eyebrow. It was wonderful and safe and it was here, more than anywhere else that Carmichael’s words finally began to make sense.
    In the framed photographs, newspaper clippings and trophies. All evidence of her success. Proof positive of her achievements.
    And okay, she admitted it, she had been amazingly lucky in getting the break in ‘ Friends and family’, but afterwards she had worked damn hard. Episodes of the soap were churned out daily, weekends off a rarity, and it hadn’t got any easier once she’d started in the movies. Her first had worn her out, merely because she’d spent much of it standing around doing nothing and the second, in which she’d starred, had knackered her for the simple reason she was practically in every scene. So, yes. If anyone deserved to go home to a nice, warm, comfortable house at the end of the day it was her.
    Now she was all dressed up again and ready to attend her third movie premiere.
    She had top billing, too. Above Ray Stephenson. A jaw dropper if ever there was one. Stephenson’s star, she’d once read somewhere, shone so bright it made the sun jealous, but here she was with her name way above his and with a larger slice of the action to boot.
    Fortunately Ray hadn’t complained and had even whispered to her over coffee and bagels, that he was, in fact, rather glad he didn’t have the starring role. He was, he confessed, getting far too old for all this running about nonsense, and if she wanted to take over all that bloody hellish stuff, she was more than welcome to it. He was more than happy to sit back, take it easy, and collect his cheque at the end of the day. Having his name at the top of the flyers no longer mattered to him. Living his life and actually enjoying it, did.
    Laughing, Carrie had