Rainy’s POV
I arrive at Bron’s after long hours plotting out every possibility that can be thrown at us, prepared to face anything together after having been spoiled in London with retail therapy at Harrod’s, and having long, luxuriously drawn-out spa massages with hot stones at the hotel spa.
I feel ready to face Bron Ambrose with a big phony smile. Ready for anything. Eager to hear about the new developments.
Making sure I have everything I need; I allow my fingers to slowly move over the necklace of skeleton keys that I continue to wear. The keys to my gallery, home, memory, time – my destiny gleam in the light.
I shut the clasp on my Hermes bag with a clean crisp, satisfying designer “click”, and then, checking that the red bottoms of my pumps are immaculate, I make my way to the doorbell...