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Jamie’s tone.
    Note to self: If you screw a man who later becomes your solicitor, expect him to assume he’s your moral and emotional superior.
    â€˜I
am
thinking with my head, Jamie,’ Halle replied with exactly the same level of condescension. ‘Believe me, my heart hasn’t been anywhere near Luke Best for a number of years.’ Sixteen to be precise.
    â€˜OK, well, let me spell it out, then,’ Jamie said sharply, obviously miffed that he couldn’t out-patronise her. ‘We haven’t got grounds for an injunction until the book’s actually under contract. All that flexing our legal muscles now would achieve—apart from costing you five hundred pounds an hour for my services—is to alert the press to the impending deal and make the advance publishers are willing to offer Best go through the roof. That’s what I meant by counterproductive.’
    â€˜Ah, I see.’
    Bugger, maybe he does have one small, infinitesimal point.
    â€˜So what’s your advice, then? There must be something I can do?’ The knot tangled with the pitch and roll of raw panic. After a sleepless night debating all her options—including sneaking over to Paris and garrotting Luke in his sleep—Halle had convinced herself that Jamie would provide an answer to her predicament this morning. Something quick and relatively painless and fiendishly clever that wouldn’t involve the first-degree murder of her child’s father.
    Jamie leaned forward. His hair flopped over his brow again, but he didn’t sweep it back this time. ‘My advice wouldbe …’ He hesitated, then sighed, as if he were preparing to say something particularly difficult. ‘Go over to Paris and talk to the guy.’
    What?
‘No.’ The jolt of horror didn’t do much to settle her roiling stomach.
I’d rather garrotte myself, thanks.
‘I’ve told you before …’ she began, because this wasn’t the first time Jamie had suggested the unthinkable. ‘That’s not an option.’ She’d made a decision sixteen years ago that she would never see or speak to Luke Best again, directly or indirectly. Even though they shared a child, she didn’t want him to have even the smallest toehold in her life. She’d been so determined about that that she’d never even spent a penny of the money Luke had sent each month towards their daughter’s upkeep. Even when she’d really, really needed it. Even when she’d had to work two jobs to survive. She’d set up a trust fund for Lizzie with the money instead, to testify to the fact she would never ever need anything Luke Best had to offer again.
    She hadn’t been through all that to let Luke back in now. Especially over something this crass.
    â€˜Why not?’ Jamie continued, being more persistent than usual. ‘Why not appeal to his better nature?’
    â€˜Luke doesn’t have a better nature, it’s part of his charm.’
The rat.
    â€˜Yes, but he does care about Lizzie,’ Jamie pressed, going the full patronising. ‘Surely if you tell him how this will impact on her, he’ll back down. The guy’s not a complete arsehole.’
    â€˜Really, Jamie? And how would you know that?’ She struggled to lower her voice. ‘Have you ever waited for two weeks for him to come home from a weekend assignment? Texting and emailing, and ringing his mobile and getting no response? Trudging round most of East Londonwith his two-year-old daughter to speak to all his known friends and associates, begging for news, only to see the pity in their faces or hear the smug sympathy in their tone? And eventually getting a text message saying simply “It’s over, I can’t come back”? And then spending months more not sleeping, not eating, not knowing how to comfort your child, while racking your brains trying to decipher those six measly words after a