Read The Grass is Greener for Free Online Page A

She’d gone too far.
    Lying about being an Eddings!
    Dumbarse.

Chapter 3
    It was a scene from a nightmare. Bronwyn was pinned down by a ferocious beast, unable to run or scream. Fear paralysed her. She was only able to turn her head away as the dog barked loudly in her face. Just when she thought it was going to rip her head off, it stopped and licked her face from chin to hairline.
    Oh, grooosss!!!
    The real owner of the dog, who reminded her very much of a lion tamer in her tight back leggings and red jacket, walked over to the side of the couch.
    â€˜You’re lucky. She likes you.’
    Bronwyn eyes boggled at the woman as she pushed on the chest of the dog, which did not budge. ‘Help me.’
    â€˜I can’t believe how young you are,’ the woman continued contemptuously. ‘Though in hindsight I should have expected it. What are you? Twenty-five, twenty-six?’
    She was twenty-seven actually.
    Bronwyn gasped as the dog began to bark at her again. ‘Please, can you get your dog off me?’
    â€˜Oh no, honey,’ the woman smirked, ‘it’s not my dog.’
    Mercifully, however, she grabbed the dog by the collar and pulled it from Bronwyn’s lap. It bounded onto the floor. She was a rather impressive creature, standing nearly a metre in height with a very muscular chest. Bronwyn scrabbled off the couch, putting the coffee table between her and the over-eager canine. She tried to wipe the doggy spit off her face with the sleeve of her shirt … but she could still smell rotting meat.
    â€˜Who are you?’ she demanded breathlessly of its owner.
    â€˜Peter Goldman’s wife. Well,’ the woman shrugged in correction, ‘ex-wife, you’ll be pleased to know. I can see exactly what he sees in you.’
    Bronwyn wrung her trembling hands as Mrs Goldman gave her the once over, as though she were a stripper in a gentleman’s club. Was this mad woman implying that she was having a relationship with her husband?
    â€˜Mrs Goldman –’
    â€˜Call me Freya.’ The woman flicked her hand as her dog loped off to stick its head in a wastepaper basket behind the reception desk, rattling it around and knocking it against the desk. Several papers were scattered on the floor along with thousands of little white dots from a haphazardly emptied hole punch. It looked like Jenny, the receptionist, had retreated from her post.
    â€˜To be honest, I didn’t think you were really out at lunch,’ Freya went on to say conversationally. ‘I thought you were hiding behind there with the rest of them.’ She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. ‘But they refused to let me and Elsa through to check your office.’
    Bronwyn didn’t blame them. She glanced across the room, which was divided in half by a glass wall. In front was the vandalised reception desk, behind were the offices. Sure enough, there was Jenny and a few other wide-eyed staff members barricaded behind the glass doors, which were locked with a chair back inserted under the handles. They were all watching her. There were cracks around the door handle as though someone had been rattling it … or pushing hard.
    Her eyes swung back to the lion tamer.
    â€˜What have you been doing?’
    â€˜I needed to see you, so sue me,’ Freya said and then laughed vulgarly at her own joke. ‘You probably will, won’t you?’
    Bronwyn coughed. ‘It seems likely.’
    She looked at her colleagues, who continued to watch from the safety of their glass enclosure. Were none of them going to help her? Had the police been called to deal with this invasion? Or were they all just waiting around to serve her up as their peace offering? She must have been staring at that door too long because Freya felt the need to comment.
    â€˜It’s just a door, and it’s not like you don’t owe me for messing up my husband’s case and my marriage as well.’
    â€˜I