Chapter Eighteen

GRACE.

Christopher Miles got to my door step at exactly few minutes to nine the next morning in his usual, disorganized look. He was wearing an over-sized winter coat over a shrunken shirt.  It rained early this morning, so I was sure everywhere would be as forlorn as my mood.

I asked him to come in, but he declined, explaining he was going to stay out to arrange his camera as he left home in too much of a hurry. 

“Grace?” he called from outside. “You know the interview is taking place in his home office and not at his main company right?”

Oh, I had no idea. What the hell is Connor Shelby planning anyway? The entitled bastard! I scoffed.

“Sure Chris, let’s go,” I said, emerging from my house and shutting my door. 

We used Precious since Chris didn’t have a car. I hoped she would be able to take us as far as Shelby Mansion which was at the heart of London. We drove in silence, as Chri