Chapter 9

Liza made it to the elevator when her phone rang. Considering her hands shook with fury she wouldn't have answered it if she hadn't been expecting her financial adviser's call imparting good news.

Her portfolio of investments had matured and Cindy was set for life. The figures she'd crunched for longterm ongoing medical and allied health care had terrified her, but now, after years of careful saving and investing, she could rest easy in the knowledge should anything happen to her Cindy would be financially secure.

It made every blister from impossibly high stilettos, every sacrificed chocolate mousse so not to gain weight, every artful fend-off from a groping sleaze, worth it.

Ignoring the death glare from the receptionist, she fished out her phone, checked the number on display, and hit the answer button.

‘Hey, Walden, good to hear from you. I've been expecting your call.'

A long silence greeted her.

‘Walden?'

A throat cleared. ‘Uh, sorry, Miss Lithgow, this is Ullric.'

Okay, so Walden's assistant had called instead. A first, but not surprising considering Walden had a full schedule whenever she'd tried to slot in a meeting lately.

‘Hey, Ullric. I'm assuming you have good news for me about my investments?'

Again, a long pause, and this time a finger of foreboding strummed Liza's spine.

‘About that…' His hesitancy made her clench the phone. ‘I'm afraid I have some bad news.'

Liza's heart stalled before kick starting with a painful wallop. ‘I don't like the sound of that. What's happened?'

Ullric blew out a long breath that transferred into annoying static. ‘Mr Wren has disappeared and his clients' funds are gone.'

Liza's legs collapsed and she sagged against the nearest wall.

This couldn't be happening.

It had to be a delusion brought on by the shock of discovering Wade had potentially used her.

Though she wasn't prone to delusions, and Ullric's pronouncement underlined with regret seemed all too real.

‘What—how—?'

‘The fraud squad is investigating. His assets have been seized, but from what I've been told the client funds have been siphoned into offshore accounts.'

Liza swore. Several times. The only words she could form let alone articulate.

‘I'm sorry, Miss Lithgow. The police will be in touch and I'll let you know if I hear anything—'

Liza disconnected, the phone falling from her fingers and hitting the carpet with a muted thud.

Her life savings.

Gone.

In that moment, every stupid awards ceremony and dress fitting and magazine article she'd endured flashed before her eyes in a teasing kaleidoscope of humiliation.

Everything she'd worn, everything she'd said, for the last umpteen years, had been to build a sizeable nest egg for Cindy in case something happened to her.

And now she had nothing.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes and a lump welled in her throat.

What the hell was she going to do?

A pair of expensive loafers came into view and her head fell forward until her chin almost touched her chest. Great, that was all she needed to make her failure complete. Wade Urquart to witness it.

‘I think this belongs to you.'

He picked up her phone and held it out.

Liza was bone-deep tired, exhausted to the core, where she'd regularly drawn on a well of courage to face the media, the crowds, the critics.

But she had to leave here with some snippet of dignity intact and right now, sitting in a crumpled heap on Wade's expensive carpet, she'd lost most of it.

‘Here.' He dropped the phone into her open bag and held out his hand. ‘Let me help you up.'

‘I think you've helped enough,' she muttered, but accepted his hand all the same, grateful for the hoist up as her legs wobbled.

‘Are you okay?'

She couldn't look at his face, didn't want to see the pity there, so she focused on the second button of his crisp pale blue business shirt.

He'd lost the tie, a snazzy navy striped one that had set off his suit earlier. The fact she'd noticed? A residual tell from her WAG days when it paid to be observant about the latest fashion, and nothing to do with how she could recite every item of clothing he'd worn last night and what he'd looked like without it.

When she didn't answer, he placed his hand under her elbow and guided her toward his office.

‘Come with me.'

Liza wanted to protest. She wanted to yell at the injustice of busting her butt all these years and for what? But all the fight had drained out of her when she'd hung up and it wouldn't hurt to have a glass of water, muster the last of her meagre courage, and face the trip home.

Home. Where Cindy was.

Damn.

She'd had their future all figured out. Now she had nothing. She needed to find a job, and pronto. The idea of trying to juggle a new job and how it would affect Cindy's care, without the security of money… Pain gripped her chest and squeezed, hard.

The tears she'd been battling welled again and this time spilled over and trickled down her cheeks.

Wade darted a glance her way but she resolutely stared ahead and dashed away the tears with her other hand.

Thankfully, he didn't question her further until he led her to the sofa she'd so haughtily vacated five minutes earlier, and closed the door. He didn't speak, setting a glass of water in front of her and taking a seat opposite, giving her time to compose herself.

His thoughtfulness made her like him, and she didn't want to, not after what she'd discovered today. In fact, when she'd huffed out of here, she'd assumed she'd never see him again—and had steadfastly ignored that small part of her that had been disappointed at the thought.

She gulped the water, hoping it would dislodge the giant lump of sadness in her throat. It did little as she battled the hopelessness of her situation.

Her new life? In ruins.

Cindy's financial safety net? Gone.

She'd been screwed over by some smarmy financial adviser whose balls she'd crush in a vice if she ever laid eyes on him again. As if that were likely.

Her financial ruin meant she was back to square one, but no way could she don designer outfits and start prancing around on some egotistical sportsman's arm again.

Mentally, she couldn't take it any more. Physically, late twenties was getting old for a WAG and she was done with the paparazzi scrutiny.

Which left her plum out of options.

‘Want to tell me what happened out there?'

‘Not really.' She topped up the glass from a water pitcher, grateful her hand didn't shake.

‘I don't think my offer was that repugnant so it had to be something else?'

‘It was your offer.'

The lie tripped off her tongue. Better for him to think that than know the truth. That she'd lost her life savings and had no way out of this disastrous situation.

‘You're not a very good liar.'

‘How would you know?'

He raised an eyebrow at her acerbic tone. ‘Because contrary to what you believe, I actually spent time paying attention to you last night and I reckon you've got one of the most guileless faces I've seen when you let your guard down.'

Damn, how did he do that, undermine her with insight when he shouldn't know her at all?

‘I can't talk about it.' She shook her head, tugging on the end of her ponytail and twisting it around her finger. ‘Besides, it's my problem. There's nothing you can do about it.'

‘Sure?' He braced his elbows on his knees. ‘Don't forget, if you're ever in a bind all you have to do is accept my offer and you'd be set for life.'

As his words sank in, Liza's hand stilled and she flicked her ponytail back over her shoulder.

No. She couldn't.

But what other option did she have?

Agreeing to a revealing biography would replenish her lost savings and ensure Cindy's security. Relating a few stories to a ghost writer had to be less painful than going down the fake tan/lash extensions/hair foils route again. She wanted to pursue a career in marketing and accepting this book deal would allow that.

The only catch was Cindy.

Liza didn't want the world knowing her private business and she wanted to protect Cindy at all costs. She'd done a good job of it so far, keeping her public persona completely separate from the reality of her home life.

Any publicity shots and interviews with Jimmy had been done at his palatial apartment; same with Henri. It had been important to her, deliberately misleading the press to think she lived with the sport stars so they wouldn't hound her or, worse, follow her.

Not that she was ashamed of the modest Californian bungalow she shared with Cindy, but her goal to ultimately protect Cindy at all costs meant she wanted their real home and the life they shared to be off-limits to the public.

The guys had never mentioned Cindy in interviews either, though she knew that had more to do with them not wanting to be tainted—even by association—with a disability they couldn't handle or had no knowledge of rather than her request.

Jimmy and Henri were too egotistical to want to field questions about their girlfriend's disabled sister so they'd pretended Cindy hadn't existed. While their apparent disregard had hurt, it had been exactly as Liza wanted it.

Her protecting Cindy over the years had worked, but how could she sustain that in a biography? Then again, she'd invented a physical fa?ade for years, playing up to the image of the perfect WAG.

What if she invented a story to go with it?

It wasn't as if she hadn't done it before when she'd been interviewed. She'd give a few scant details, an embellishment here, a truth stretched there. No one would be wiser if she did the same in her biography.

She could lay out the basics of her upbringing and focus on the interesting stuff, like her relationships with Jimmy and Henri. That was what people were really interested in anyway, the whole ‘what's it like dating a famous sports star?' angle.

Yeah, she could do this. Continue her WAG role a little longer, but behind the scenes this time. Had to be easier than strutting in front of A-listers and faking it.

But she'd told Wade to shove his offer so appearing too eager would be a dead giveaway something was wrong and she didn't want him prying.

If she had to do this, it had to be a strictly business deal. From now on, her personal life was off-limits. Unless it involved inventing a little drama for the ghost writer.

‘What if I was crazy enough to reconsider your offer? What would it entail?'

He masked his surprise quickly. ‘We'd have a contract to you by this afternoon. Standard publishing contract with clearly stated royalty rates, world rights, advance, option to your next book.'

Next book? Heck, she could barely scrimmage enough suitably juicy info for this one. Though she'd love to publish a book raising the awareness of cerebral palsy and give an insight for carers. It was something she'd considered over the years: using her high profile to educate people regarding the lifelong condition.

But then she imagined the intrusiveness on Cindy's life—the interview requests, the demands, the interference on her schedule, and the potentially damaging physical effects linked to emotional fragility in those with CP—and Liza balked.

Cindy thrived on routine and the last thing Liza wanted for her sister was a potential setback. Or, worse, increased spasticity in her muscles because she got too excited or too stressed. Most days were hard enough to get through without added complications and that was what spotlighting her sister's cerebral palsy could do.

Embellishing her so-called glamorous life and leaving Cindy out of it would be a lot easier.

‘How much is the advance?'

He named a six-figure sum that made her head spin. Were people that desperate to read a bunch of stuff about her life?

Considering how she'd been occasionally stalked by paparazzi eager for a scoop while dating Jimmy and Henri, she had her answer.

‘The advance is released in increments. A third on signing, a third on acceptance of the manuscript, and a third on publishing.'

‘And when would that be?'

‘Six months.'

She laughed. ‘You're kidding? How can you publish a book in six months?'

‘Buyers are lined up. A ghost writer is ready to start tomorrow if you can. Week-long interview process, two weeks writing the book, straight to copy and line editors, then printers.'

Liza knew little about publishing but marketing was her game and she'd interned at a small publishing house while at uni. No way could a book get turned around in six months. It took an average of eighteen months to get a paperback on shelves.

‘Do you have a marketing plan?'

A slight frown creased his brow. ‘I have to admit, Qu is lagging in that department at the moment. I want to bring the company into the twenty-first century with online digital instalments of books, massive social media campaigns, exclusive digital releases on our website, subscribers, that kind of thing.'

‘So what's the problem? Hire someone.'

He tugged at his cuffs, the first sign she'd seen him anything but confident since she'd arrived.

‘Turnaround time on this book is tight.'

‘I'll say.' She shook her head. ‘Six-month release date? Impossible.'

‘And you can say that with your extensive publishing experience?'

She didn't like his sarcasm, didn't like the fact it hurt more.

‘Matter of fact, I interned for a publisher during my marketing degree.'

‘Next you'll be telling me you're applying for the job.'

And just like that, Liza had a bamboozling idea. For the first time since that soul-destroying phone call earlier, hope shimmered to life and gave her the confidence to retake control of her life.

‘That's a great idea. Why don't you give me the marketing job on this book and I'll make sure it's the best damn book this company has ever published?'

He fixed her with an incredulous stare. ‘Let me get this straight. You want a publishing contract and a marketing job here? After basically telling me to stick my offer—'

‘Call it a WAG's prerogative to change her mind.' She smiled, hoping it would soften him up. ‘What do you say? Do we have a deal?'

‘What we have here is you not telling me everything and then having the cheek to try and coerce me into giving you a job too.'

‘Take it or leave it.'

Yeah, as if she could afford to call his bluff.

If he left it, she'd be back to strapping on her stilettos and smiling for the cameras again. She shuddered.

After a few fraught seconds, the sensual lips that had explored every part of her body eased into a smile.

‘You drive a hard bargain, Liza, but you've got yourself a deal.'

Liza could've hugged him. She settled for a sedate shake of hands, though there was nothing remotely sedate about the way her body buzzed as his fingers curled around hers.

The part of her plan where she kept dealings with Wade strictly business would be sorely tested.