by Nicola Marsh
The first flicker of unease soon gave way to fear. Wade never took no for an answer, not in the business world. But Liza’s adamant stance put a serious dent in his confidence he could woo her to Qu.
He needed her biography.
Failure wasn’t an option.
‘Look, Liza, I’m sure we can come to some type of mutually beneficial agreement—’
‘What part of you can take your offer and stick it don’t you understand?’
With that, he watched his final chance at saving his father’s legacy stride out of the door.
FIVE
LIZA LITHGOW’S STYLE TIPS
FOR MAXIMUM WAG WOW IMPACT
The City
Depending how famous the sportsman, WAGs get to travel, but home is where the heart is. Here are my tips for getting to know beautiful Melbourne.
Acland Street, St. Kilda. (An iconic street lined with cake and pastry shops. Dare you to stop at trying one! And on Sundays, check out the market on the nearby Esplanade.)
Lygon Street, Carlton. (The Little Italy of Melbourne, a street lined with fabulous restaurants and cafés. Try the thin-crusted pizzas and the espressos. You won’t be able to walk past the gelato outlets without succumbing!)
Victoria Street, Richmond. (If you love Vietnamese food this street is for you. Choose from the many restaurants filled with fragrant steam from soups and sizzling dishes. And if you love to shop, check out nearby Bridge Road with its many brand outlets. Bargains galore!)
Southbank. (Stroll along the Yarra River and try to decide which fabulous café you’ll dine in. Or check out the funky shops.)
Docklands. (If you like to eat by the water’s edge, this area is for you. Many restaurants, many nationalities.)
Dandenongs. (The mountain range just over an hour from the city, where you’ll find many quaint B&Bs, craft shops and cafés to explore. Also home to the iconic Puffing Billy steam train, which takes you on a leisurely ride through the lush forest.)
Phillip Island. (If you like cute animals and the beach, you’ll love this place. Stroll the surf beach and, at night, check out the fairy penguins.)
Federation Square. (In the heart of the city, Fed Square is home to restaurants, cafés and cultural displays.)
MCG. (WAGs in all sports codes have usually visited the Melbourne Cricket Ground at some stage. Home of the AFL Grand Final, watched by millions around the world. A visit to the sports museum here is worth it.)
Little Bourke Street. (In the heart of the city, Chinatown in Melbourne, lined with fabulous Chinese restaurants. Hard to choose!)
Chapel Street, South Yarra. (About ten minutes from the city, you’ll find an eclectic mix of boutiques, restaurants and cafés here. Worth strolling to people-watch alone.)
Queen Victoria Market. (Food and fashion bargains, with everything in between. A fun way to pass a few hours.)
Daylesford. (This quaint town is in the heart of ‘Spa Country’. The amazing baths at neighbouring town Hepburn Springs are a must visit. The area is home to gourmet food and artists. Visit the Convent Gallery for a combination of both.)
Brunswick Street, Fitzroy. (An eclectic mix of cafés, boutiques and clubs.)
Liza had made it to the elevator when her mobile 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 investments had matured and Cindy was set for life. The figures she’d crunched for long-term 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 that 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. ‘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.
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 are 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 mobile 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 sizable 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 mobile 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 mobile 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, for her legs still wobbled embarrassingly.
‘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 at all to do with the fact 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 unde
r her elbow and guided her towards 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 reserves of courage and face the trip home.
Home. Where Cindy was.
Damn.
She’d had their future all figured out.
Now she had nothing. She now 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’d 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 like him, 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 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. Yeah, 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 tell-all 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 sports 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 she wanted it.
Her protecting Cindy over the years had worked, but how could she sustain that in a biography?
She had physically invented a façade all these 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, no 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 CP sufferers—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. Ghost writer 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.
‘Do you have a marketing plan?’
A slight frown creased his brow. ‘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.’
‘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 make her idea happen.
‘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?’
