Nella turned back to Tom. ‘What the hell is Clarkson Lieu doing in my house?’
5
Jett
‘Are you sleeping with my brother, Clarky?’ Nella folded her arms across her ridiculous jumper (glitter on clothing should be outlawed, Jett thought) as she smirked up at the lanky guy. It was the first time Jett had caught a glimpse of the old Nella since he’d interrupted her and Aldi-Chris last night, and something inside him twinged. This random stranger was the one who’d been able to coax that spark back out of her?
The guy, Clarkson, peeled off the column and surveyed Nella through brown vintage frames that should have made him look like a 1950s paedophile but were apparently having the opposite effect on Nella. Maybe those glasses had also graced the Milan Fashion Week catwalk. ‘Long time no see, Nellie-Bellie.’ Clarkson winked.
Jett threw up a little in his mouth.
‘I held the record for most bellybutton shots in second year uni,’ she explained to Jett and Tom.
‘No one asked,’ Tom said.
‘Clarky, surely you have better options than my brother,’ Nella said, ‘and also,gross.’
‘There’s only one Barbarani for me,’ Clarkson replied, winking again. Jett was tempted to ask if he had an eye disease.
‘Enough!’ Tom’s face was red. ‘We need to focus!’
‘Tom,youneed to chill, mate. There’s not much we can do now.’
Clearly this Clarkson Lieu hadn’t yet worked out that telling Tomaso Barbarani to ‘chill’ was about as effective as sticky-taping a punctured tyre.
‘I hired you to fix this, Lieu,’ Tom hissed through his teeth. ‘And I intend to get my money’s worth.’
‘Hold on.’ Nella held up a hand. Her nails were half coated in a sugary lavender polish and half gnawed at the edges. The last time Jett had seen her nails in such a dire state was during the Sally Sue stalker trial. ‘You hiredhimto represent you in the lawsuit? Then what the hell am I doing here?’
Shit.
Tom turned to Jett. ‘You told her she was coming forlegal advice?’
‘I gave her the facts.’
Nella looked at him. ‘You said they needed me ...’
Now both Barbaranis were advancing on him. His stomach rolled. ‘They do.’
‘I need yoursignature.’ Tom grabbed the green notebook from Clarkson. ‘Because even though I’m the one who does everything to stop this family, this business, from running into the ground, it’s your signature they need.’ He flapped a thin stack of papers at Nella.
Nella locked her arms around her ribs. ‘I need to know what it is I’m signing.’ She sounded calm. Like the gentle pull-back of the tide before a tsunami.
‘Gesu Cristo,’ Tom seethed. ‘Nowyou want to know what’s been happening? Now you care about the shit I’ve been sinking in for the past six months?’
‘Tom.’ A voice came from the gold door to the ballroom. ‘Let them breathe.’ A tall, broad man with a buzz cut and dark brown stubble crossed the threshold to the ballroom.
Good old Greyson Hawke, no longer under the Barbaranis’ service but still trying to fix everything for them.
‘Youwill stay out of this,’ Tom snarled.
‘Hey, Nel,’ Grey said, his voice soft but firmly ignoring Tom.
Nella gave Grey a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes. More than Jett had got.
‘Max wants to talk to you,’ Grey said. ‘Can you make it round to the office later?’
Max was an ex-cop turned private investigator and Grey’s business partner. Also his girlfriend. But she’d definitely want to be introduced using the first description. ‘I’m not back for good, I came to ...’ Nella looked at Jett, accusation flashing like lightning.
