What His Money Can’t Hide Read Online Free Page A

mind
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    Shaking his head in a bid to snap out of his reverie about the beautiful waitress, he determinedly walked on further down the street, stopping every now and then to make notes on his observations about the buildings and the retail outlets that occupied them. When he’d travelled about halfway down the road Drake’s finely honed instincts alerted him to the fact that he was being followed. Turning, he saw two men that were clearly from the press. It was pointless trying to fathom how they’d known he would be there. Somehow or other they always found out.
    One of them was toting a state-of-the-art camera and the other a recording device. He just thanked his lucky stars the pair hadn’t invaded the café to try and interview him or he wouldn’t have had much conversation with the lovely Layla at all. Because they hadn’t, he was predisposed to be a lot less irritated with them than was usually the case when the press unexpectedly cornered him.
    ‘We’re from the local newspaper, Mr Ashton. Can we have a picture and maybe a quick interview with you for our readers? As you can imagine, everyone is very excited about your intended rehabilitation of the area and what the social and economic effects might be.’ The journalist with the recording equipment planted himself directly in front of Drake with an animated smile.
    ‘Okay. But the interview had better be quick because I’ve got work to do.’
    ‘Of course, Mr Ashton, but if we could just have a couple of pictures first that would be great.’
    He tolerated the photos being taken, and then an interview, with an uncharacteristically amenable attitude—even when a small knot of curious bystanders gathered to see what was going on. The questions had been surprisingly intelligent and insightful, despite the apparent youth of the reporter, but when he had asked, ‘Can you tell us a bit about your personal experience of growing up here?’ it had been one question too far.
    Drake had called an abrupt halt to the exchange, and phoned his chauffeur Jimmy and instructed him to meet him at the top of the high street. His heart was still racing uncomfortably as he turned his back on the journalist, photographer and bystanders and walked briskly away.
    He was seriously relieved to see the sleek Aston Martin coming down the road towards him. Now he could focus on his work without impediment. There were a few other areas in the locality he wanted to survey before attending a meeting at the town hall to make a brief report, but after that he would be returning to his offices in London to oversee a couple of prestigious projects that were nearing completion. Projects that, although adding substantially to his bank balance and growing reputation, had been far trickier and more time-consuming than he’d anticipated, consequently causing him more troubled nights of broken sleep than he cared to recall …
    ‘So, what was your impression of Drake Ashton when you met him?’
    Her brother had invited Layla downstairs to havesome fish and chips with him that evening. After inheriting the family home in their dad’s will, they’d agreed to split the accommodation between them rather than sell it, and had had the two floors converted into self-contained separate flats. Layla had the upper floor and Marc the lower. When she’d moved to London—even though she’d suggested that he rent out her flat while she was gone—Marc had insisted he wouldn’t even think of it because it was her home. It would remain unoccupied until she returned, he’d declared, whether that was in one year or ten, and in the meantime she could come home for the odd weekend to see him.
    When her career had come to its unexpectedly ignominious and humiliating end because of her crooked boss she’d been very grateful that she had a place to return to where she felt safe again. Being swindled out of her savings had left her feeling vulnerable and unsure of herself, and she hadn’t minded admitting to