“James, if you would prefer to go home, I'll ask Francis to cancel your appointments.”
He semi-twists back to me. “No, I'm better here, doing something useful. I need to work off the mood. This is nothing to do with Michael or Charlotte, and it's not fair that I impose myself on them in this state of mind.”
“That was your ex-wife?”
“It was.”
“What did she want?”
And now he turns to face me. “Money.” His voice turns bitter. “Nothing changes.”
Tread carefully….
“If I can help at all?”
He snorts, his eyes slitting. “She’s not getting any. That woman’s had everything from me she’s ever having.”
A tap at the door and the rattle of cups. Francis walks in. “I made it strong, the way you like it, James.”
His eyes soften. “Thank you, Francis.”
I pour two cups then pass one to him. He tak
