After Felix - Lily Morton Page 0,58
What I’m about to do is highly risky and could quite easily backfire on me, given Felix’s temperament. But I’ve got to try because this might be my last chance.
“I need your help,” I say, leaning forward.
His eyebrows rise. “Why?”
“Well, you’ve fractured my arm.” His eyes flare, and I quickly say, “I mean, obviously it was an accident.” I pause. “Brought about by you not concentrating on your driving, to be honest.” If he could incinerate me with his eyes, I’d already be ash, but I carry on. “But despite whose fault it was, I find myself in a position where I need your help for the next couple of months.”
“Really? What for?” His voice is posh and regulated, but there’s a snap to the consonants.
“Well, I’m in the middle of writing a book, and now I find myself in a situation where I can’t type anything.”
“Dictate,” he says, snapping the word off.
I wave my hand cavalierly. “I can’t do that.”
“Why? Do you absolutely loathe the sound of your own voice?” His sweetly poisonous tone startles a laugh out of me.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Felix. I adore the sound of my own voice,” I say pompously. “It brings sunshine and positivity to all the people in the world who most need it.” He rolls his eyes, and I repress a laugh. “For some reason, dictating doesn’t work. Last week I used the word fucking, and it changed everything to ducking. I mean how many times a day do I use the word ducking? It’s a fucking lot less than I say fuck.” I smile at him, and the words come quickly. They should, because I practised them for ages last night. “I have the European leg of my book tour to get through and a book to finish. I have fan letters and hundreds of emails that need answering. I need an assistant.” I pause and take an unobtrusive breath. “And I think that’s you.”
“What?” His eyes narrow dangerously.
I shrug in an unconcerned manner even though the expression he’s wearing has always made my balls shrink. “Think about it, Felix. You were my brother’s assistant for years, and now you’ve maimed his sibling, you should be mine for a bit.” He opens his mouth to interrupt, but I carry on talking. “I’d pay you, of course, and the agency for your time, and you’d find it really easy work. I just need someone to help me now…” I give a sad, dramatic pause and a little sigh. “Now that I’m down an arm.”
His expression conveys that he’s contemplating testicular homicide. I hope it’s just a passing thought, but I cross my legs quickly, not wanting to risk it.
He taps his fingers on the table, staring at me with an inscrutable expression. I suppress the urge to fidget. “So what you’re saying is that because I ran into you, which was entirely your fault as you were lying on the ground pretending to be dead, that I now owe you duties as your very own personal assistant?” he asks coolly. “I am to look after you, answer your emails, type up your book, and organise you from one corner of Europe’s bookshops to the other.”
There’s a long silence. “Well, I don’t think it’s too much to ask,” I say primly. “It’s actually the least you can do after injuring me.”
“And what does Zeb have to say about this?”
I remember Zeb’s initial four-letter-word response when I unveiled my plan last night and conceal a wince. “Oh, he thinks it’s the perfect solution,” I say airily. “Says you can have the two months off happily. Bev can handle it all, apparently. He’ll be around, and you’ll be on the other end of the line if she needs anything else. He says to pay yourself a bonus too,” I continue, making a mental note to transfer the money to Zeb before he strangles me.
I’m paraphrasing Zeb very loosely at the moment because his actual words were, “Fuck right off. I’m not doing anything to help you with this insane plan.”
Felix drums his fingers on the table. “So, you're actually blackmailing me to leave my own life and follow you around and be your gopher for the next two months?”
I nod. When there’s no sign of temper or humour in his expression, I shift nervously. This is never a good sign with Felix. He’s at his most evil when he’s calm.
“Well, that’s just perfect,” he says.
“What?”
“You want an assistant that badly, then you can deal with