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cost. That’s my affair. Your affair is to help me spend my money enjoyably. It’s taken me a lot of effort to get to where I am, and I intend to enjoy myself. Oh - and I want you to enjoy yourself too,” he ended lamely.

    “That is so convincing, Mr Henty,” she said half mockingly.  

    “And for God’s sake, stop referring to me as Mr. Henty. It’s Simon. And that’s a client request, ok?”

    Tamara was spared continuing the conversation as the rising whine of the jet engines indicated they were about to taxi. A pilot in a white shirt with shoulder flashes sauntered towards them from the cockpit. “Welcome back, sir. We’re cleared for take-off, and we’ll be getting to Italy in three legs, with brief stops at Singapore and Abu Dhabi. The trip looks good, we’re flying above any turbulence so just have yourselves a good time.”

    He looked at Tamara quickly before walking back to the cockpit area, and she wondered what kind of ‘good time’ Simon had on other excursions in the Gulfstream.

    Within hours they were high above the Pacific. Simon was finding Tamara an enigma. She seemed comfortable with the trappings of wealth, and her simple yet elegant clothes smacked of designer label. He’d also expected her to withdraw into herself during the flight, but while she was a bit reserved, there was no hint of any animosity.  

    In fact, she kept him busy with questions about his business, and he found her enthusiasm intriguing. Normally his female companions were awed by the private jets or helicopter travel, and spent their time surfing the satellite channels or drinking too much.  

    Tamara was different.  

    “So how did you get your first break in business, Simon?”

    It was question that he was often asked at business school seminars or industry conventions. Normally he had a practiced reply which avoided specifics, but for some reason he decided to be frank.

    “Some people achieve success because they inherit wealth and do something with it,” he said carefully. “In my case, I was forced to be successful.”

    Tamara was intrigued. “It sounds like there’s a story behind what you’r saying?”

    “Not really. My parents were normal, hard working Australians. We lived in the outback. It was hard. But they scrimped and saved to send me to college. I never realised the sacrifice they made.” Simon paused and   gazed at the fleecy clouds below. “They went to town maybe once a fortnight. For some reason they got sucked into a meeting that was taking place hosted by a silver tongued investment broker. He was offering to make people rich. It sounded too good to be true, and, of course, it was. They poured what remained of their life savings into his pocket. He was a crook, of course.”

    Tamara glanced away, suddenly aware of an icicle of fear.

    “They were snared in a web of deceit, a massive fraud.   The guy behind it was called Douglas Ahern. My parents lost everything they had worked for. I had to do something. And I’ve worked ever since to repay their debt.”

    “How long ago was that?”  

    “You must have heard of it? The Ahern scandal, about eight years ago. Everyone in Australia knew someone who was affected. The trial was in all the papers. He was found guilty, of course, but couldn’t face the life sentence that was evidently going to be handed down. He committed suicide,” Simon finished bitterly.

    “What - what about your parents?”

    “Not good. Mum is in care. Dad lives in a secure home. I truly believe their world fell apart when they lost all their money.” He paused for a moment. “So… I had to be successful. I owe it to them.”

    Tamara felt sick, inwardly shaking.  

    Simon leaned back in the exquisitely hand stitched pale leather recliner and glanced at Tamara. “Hey, are you alright? You’ve gone very pale!”

    “No, no - I just suddenly feel tired,” Tamara lied, her heart hammering, wondering how Simon would react if he knew the daughter of