International Player(16)

“Yeah. Abi has all their details on index cards, and I need to memorize them. I’ve done four. I have another six to do.” She shuffled on her stool.

“Have you met this guy?” I asked, pulling the comb through her hair, the scent of coconut wrapping around me.

“No, I rarely meet donors. That’s all Abigail.”

“Then why would Ian expect you to know personal details like his daughters’ names? You’re not going to pretend to be Abigail. Dress up like her. You just need to do her job.”

She turned on her stool to face me, a grin spreading over her face. “Good point. I need to know the professional stuff, but not things only Abi would know.” The huge, warm grin on her face created a mixture of pride and fear in my gut. But fear of what? I wasn’t afraid of anything. Not anymore. Not since the accident.

I stepped back. I really shouldn’t be cutting her hair. I was going to end up fucking it up or something.

I pulled my phone from my pocket.

“Hey,” she said, nodding at the comb in my free hand.

“Just a second. I have a solution.” I pulled up the number of the woman I used in New York to sort out my wardrobe. I hated shopping, and Veronica ensured I never had to do it. “Veronica, it’s Noah. I need a hairdresser.” I told her it was for a woman, gave her Rob and Abi’s address, and she assured me she’d have someone around within the hour.

I hung up and headed back to the sofa, scooping up my beer on the way.

“What just happened?” Truly asked.

“Oh, I’ve arranged a hairdresser. I think it’s better for you to have a professional cut your hair.”

She smoothed her hand over her head. “And what? You just ordered a hairdresser at eight at night? Just like that?”

“He’s rich now,” Rob said. “That’s what happens. Everyone is at his beck and call.”

“It’s not like that,” I said, though I supposed it was a little like that. “I just made a call. It’s no big deal.” Money made a lot of things about being in London different this time—where I lived, what I wore, the fact I could get a hairdresser at eight at night. But not who I was.

“Is this an ex-girlfriend of yours who’s going to show up brandishing sharp objects?” Truly asked, her face entirely serious.

I grinned. “No. I called someone in New York. She has contacts.” There was no way I was going to admit I had a stylist—Rob wouldn’t let me hear the end of it. The fact was, I’d gotten pretty comfortable with my money, but I wasn’t sure how comfortable those who knew me before my success would be with it. So, I hadn’t employed a driver and I’d just taken on a personal assistant. And although my flat was a penthouse in one of the best parts of London, I’d been careful not to buy anything too big or extravagant.

“Right,” Truly said, turning away from me. “Someone in New York. At least my hair will look okay. I still don’t have anything to wear. I presume not a jumper, right?”

Jesus, she was out of her depth. “Definitely not a jumper. Do you have a dress and jacket?”

She looked at me as if I’d just asked her to down a pint of camel’s blood. “You think I need a dress and jacket?” She slipped off the stool and began to pace in front of us. “I have black trousers. And I thought I’d wear them with a shirt. I have a white one that’s fairly new.” She grimaced. “Although that one might have a curry stain on it. Shit. I don’t think I can do this.” She balled her hands into fists. “I’m just not prepared. I’m going to have to cancel or call in sick or something—”

“Do you have a jacket?” I asked. “That would go with the trousers.”

She grimaced. “Rob, Abigail will have stuff in her wardrobe. I’m going to have to raid it. And perhaps she can help me shop for some stuff online.”

“No!” Rob slammed his beer bottle on the coffee table in front of him. “There’s no way that’s going to happen. I don’t want her thinking about work or worrying that you’re not going to cope. You’re just going to have to handle it.”

Truly stopped pacing and rubbed her hands over her face. “Mason and Kelly will have to take over. Tomorrow they’ll have to pick up as many of Abi’s engagements as possible but—”

“Wait, what?” I asked before I could think about what I was saying. This was none of my business, but those kids at the rehab center deserved the chance I’d gotten, and getting others to fill in was not the way to raise twenty-five-million pounds.

“Mason and Kelly. You don’t know them, but they’re outgoing and upbeat and they can handle most of this social stuff.”

“But this isn’t social stuff.” I shuffled forward in my seat. “It’s business. Big donors, big supporters of the foundation are going to want to see someone at the top. Someone with the Harbury name.”

“But I just have too much to do, and I’m not good at this stuff. I don’t even have a smart outfit for tomorrow—”

“There’s no point in having a fantastic back office if you have no money to count or spend.”

She perched on her stool and then stood up again. “You think donors won’t write checks if I’m not at the lunch or dinner or whatever?”