The Grass is Greener by Loretta Hill Page A

you’ve shown my female friends.’
    Seb rolled his eyes. ‘You really think I’m that dangerous?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Cyril said simply. ‘You’re not just heartless, Seb, you’re indifferent. I’ve never seen a woman get under your skin. I doubt one ever will, and for that I am very sorry.’
    The seriousness of his tone was sobering. ‘Come on, Cyril. You don’t need to worry about me. I know how to enjoy life.’
    â€˜The most enjoyable thing about enjoyment is sharing it with someone else, son,’ Cyril said softly.
    â€˜Have I just stepped onto the set of this year’s Christmas special?’ Seb shook his head at Cyril’s sentimentality.
    â€˜All right, all right,’ Cyril waved his hand. ‘I can tell I’m losing your interest so I’ll explain to you why I called you in here in the first place.’
    â€˜Hallelujah.’
    â€˜You need help.’ Cyril jabbed his finger at him. ‘As in more staff. And I might have found you someone. Another junior lawyer. She’ll be here any minute for her interview.’
    Seb couldn’t have been more delighted with this news. ‘Perfect timing, Cyril.’
    â€˜Don’t get too excited just yet.’ Cyril leaned forward to replace his mug on the coffee table. ‘She comes as a gift from my ex-sister-in-law, Bianca Hanks.’
    Seb raised an eyebrow. ‘Is Bianca in the habit of sending you gifts now?’
    Cyril snorted. ‘What do you think?’
    â€˜What’s she up to then?’
    â€˜I’m not precisely sure, but I have reason to believe that Bianca is unaware of the true nature of the gift she has given me. So we shall see this girl for ourselves and make our choice from there.’ Cyril shrugged. ‘Let the battle of wits begin.’

Chapter 7
    Despite the air-conditioning maintaining the temperature of the room at a very mild twenty-two degrees, Claudia was perspiring like a glass of cold Coke on a hot bench. She had been in the waiting room of Hanks and Eddings for the last half hour. Stiffly seated with her knees pressed together on their white leather couch, not daring to take off her jacket because she knew there was a high chance of sweat marks. Luckily, some of Bronwyn’s suits roughly fitted her. They were a little tight around the bust and the skirts were slightly long for her diminutive height but otherwise she had no complaints. The shoes on her feet were of the safe black court variety. She’d bought them in a rush that morning on the way over. They weren’t great but were so benign that they wouldn’t give anyone cause for comment.
    She clutched her résumé on her lap but was less focused on this document than the looming suspicion that ‘Uncle Cyril’ was going to be disappointed with whose name he saw on it.
    So far there had been no hiccups. The receptionist had accepted her name without any surprise. She was definitely going in for this interview. But could she score the job?
    She had tried to outline her skills in her résumé without too much embellishment. Given her limited time in the workforce, there wasn’t that much to add. Coupled with Bianca’s supposed ‘recommendation’, Claudia really wasn’t sure what Bronwyn’s Uncle Cyril would make of it all.
    â€˜Mr Eddings will see you now.’
    With a start, Claudia looked up at the receptionist, who was sitting at the desk opposite the couches, the words ‘Hanks and Eddings’ in big block letters on the wall behind her. She was beckoning Claudia to walk through to her left, leading into what could only be described as the firm’s throne room. Claudia stood up, nervously smoothing her skirt with sweaty palms.
    â€˜Er … thanks.’ She straightened her shoulders as though shrugging on a cloak of confidence, and walked briskly through the double doors and into a gorgeous-looking office. The back