Title Page
Note to Readers
JAKE NEEDED A HOUSEKEEPER.
But not the live-in kind. The last thing he wanted was someone underfoot all the time, picking up after him, forcing him to make conversation and invading his space. The reason Jake had bought a house a few years ago was to have his own space.
After spending weeks in hospital and then another month at the rehabilitation clinic, he’d wanted nothing more than to be by himself. So he’d turned down the offers to live with relatives and bought this place in East Balmain, calling it a thirtieth birthday present to himself.
He’d thought he could make do with a cleaner coming in three times a week. And he had managed—in a fashion, even in the beginning when he’d been pretty useless, his leg still not totally healed. He’d shopped online and sent his laundry out, a routine he’d continued even after he was fully better and back working.
But it had finally become tedious, seeing to all the other chores which owning and maintaining a house involved. He loathed having to wait for tradespeople, who didn’t always turn up on time. Patience was not his strong suit.
Jake could well afford to pay someone to do everything for him. He’d already been a wealthy man before the success of his television show, so it had never been a matter of money. More of privacy.
Not that he had much privacy any more, his star having risen over the last couple of years, his every move recorded on social media and in the gossip rags.
But
