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Partnership, I hope.“I can only dream of the respect you hold in the financial world, Tilda.”
“It sounds like you’re on your way.”
My glass pauses at my lips. “It does?”
“Gary speaks very highly of you.”
“He does?” Why the hell is my voice squeaky?
She laughs. “Don’t be coy. You’ve raced up the ranks at LB&B. Nick must be feeling quite proud.”
I wince. No, actually, he tried to stunt my growth.You owe me some kind of commitment.
“Is he here?” she asks, glancing around. “I haven’t seen him.”
“I think someone else is here representing his company this year.” I made sure I kept my eye on the list of attendees. I sigh to myself, taking a breath and biting the bullet. It’s not that I don’t want people to know, but more I just don’t want to talk about it. And Nick’s clearly not telling people we’ve split up. Is he still hoping? “Nick and I aren’t together anymore.”
“Oh, well, that’s a surprise.” She withdraws. “What went wrong? No, sorry, that’s none of my business.”
“It’s fine. I guess we grew apart.”
Tilda hums, as if she’s suspicious of the true circumstances surrounding the demise of Nick and me. “What’s your client file looking like these days?”
This isn’t something I’d usually discuss with another adviser, but, well, this is Tilda Spector. If she’s offering an ear, you talk to it. “Healthy, actually, but more room for growth, obviously.”
She nods. “Always. I heard you recently took on a certain Mr. Neilson.”
“Oh yes, by pure default, mind you. A senior partner left LB&B, and his clients were disbanded between various advisers at the company while they look to replace him as partner. You know Mr. Neilson?”
“Oh, I know him.”
That doesn’t sound promising. “And?” I ask, tongue in cheek. “Want to share anything?”
Tilda leans in, laughing. “Between you and me, I heard his wife is taking him to the cleaners. I expect he’ll be cashing in, probably to try and hide his stash.”
“Shit,” I murmur, and quickly apologise for it, as I try to remember the value of his portfolio. “He only plays safe,” I muse, as it comes back to me. “A ton of ISAs.”
“Instant access,” Tilda confirms. “Thought you should be prepared.”
Brilliant. Not that there’s much I can do about it. I can’t stop a client from pulling in resources, no matter what they intend to do with the money. Like, in Mr. Neilson’s case, hide it. Which is pretty bloody impossible. If I’m asked for records, I’ll provide records. It’s then up to his soon-to-be ex-wife to prove he’s not blown the cash shethoughthe had. “Thanks for the insight.”
Tilda sips her drink, a coy smile stretching her lips. “Christ, have you tried this stuff?” She waves a waitress over and plucks one of the ribbed cocktail glasses off the tray. A whole palm leaf coats the inside, the white liquid cloudy. “Here.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t.” I hold up a hand, smiling.
“Look around, Amelia.” She glides a perfectly manicured hand around the room, and I look, seeing most people holding a glass containing a palm leaf. “Plus, this drink is like nothing you’ll have tasted before.”
“No, really.” I need my wits about me, and not just because this is a work function.
“Do you want some advice?” Tilda asks, leaning in.
“Okay,” I reply, nervous. If she tells me to loosen up, I’ll scream.
“Always stay a few drinks behind the rest.” She pushes the glass into my hand. “They’re all two deep already, not to mention the wine they’ve had with dinner. This is my first, as it is yours.”
I smile and take a sip. “Oh my fucking Christ,” I blurt as the liquid caresses its way down my throat. Tilda chuckles. “Sorry.”
“Not at all, this is a very refreshing Amelia.”