Six months later

I looked up at the sound of the bell. Craning my neck, I peeked out the enormous bay window at the front of our new office. I couldn’t see who was at the door.

“Hey, Aly?” I called. “We don’t have any appointments scheduled for this afternoon, do we?”

Aly emerged from the small but stylish kitchen, a bowl of grapes in her hand. She popped one into her mouth. “I don’t think so. Lady Snowcastle is coming in tomorrow morning. And then we have Mr. And Mrs. Hobbs in the afternoon. But I don’t remember scheduling anything for today. Want some?” She held out the grapes. “Em, you need to eat.”

“Not hungry. Thanks, though.” I pushed back from my desk. The familiar ache in my knees, my chest—God, I ached all over—flared. Insomnia was a bitch, no two ways about it. “Maybe it’s the DHL guy. The wallpaper for the bathroom was supposed to be here last week.”

“Want me to check?”

“Nah, I’ll go. I need to stretch my legs.”

Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t gotten up since I arrived at six-thirty this morning. Business at EP Designs was booming. We had two huge projects on the docket—a Georgian dower house and a Jacobean manor—in addition to finishing up Stallings Castle. Several magazines had already contacted us, asking to feature Stallings when the renovations were completed.

My new heels clicked on the black-and-white checkered floor as I made my way to the front door. Three months ago, we’d opened our London office in an elegant townhouse in Soho. Everything about it was charming and perfect. The location. The period details (hello, original subway tile). The cute hipster guys who walked past our windows with welcome regularity.

All my dreams for the firm were coming true. I mean, yeah, I wasn’t exactly sleeping or eating. And I cried a lot. Like, a lot a lot. But that’s what happened when you were stressed. It would be worth it in the end, when I had a thriving business in my favorite city in the world.

I reached for the brass knob and opened the door, expecting to see our friendly DHL guy.

Instead, I saw Timothy Bardy.

My heart tripped to a stop. I did a double take. It couldn’t be. Was this some kind of joke? Had Aly hired some random Tim Bardy lookalike to try and cheer me up? I felt like I was being punked.

I looked up and down the street, just to make sure a film crew wasn’t lurking behind a bush somewhere.

I looked back at our visitor. Oh, it was Tim all right. In all his smoldering, angsty, intense glory. His hair was spiked, and he had a roll of—wait, were those architectural plans?—tucked beneath his arm.

“It’s you,” I breathed.

He cocked a brow. “Pardon?”

Yep, I could tell by his voice—gravelly, growly—that it really was him.

I shook my head. “Sorry. You’re just—I know—I love—uh, are you lost or something?”

“This is the office of EP Designs, correct?” he said, his dark eyes meeting mine.

Holy shit, what was happening?

“It is,” I managed. “I’m Emily. Can I help you?”

He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Emily. I’m Tim.”

“Tim,” I said, letting out a laugh of disbelief as I shook his hand. “Right.”

“You come highly recommended by a mate of mine.” He gestured at the roll in his arm. “You see, I’ve just bought a house. Well, technically it’s a castle. I’m in need of some help with the renovations.”

I stared at him. “You’ve come to the right place. Come in, please.”

Timothy freaking Bardy followed me inside. I noticed he was careful to wipe his boots on the doormat before he entered. He may have been a smokin’ hot bad boy. But he was a polite bad boy.

I waited for my pulse to skitter, for excitement to fill me from head to toe. Timothy Bardy was here! He had a castle! He wanted me to renovate it! My ultimate dream was coming true right before my eyes. I should’ve passed out from all the joy and excitement.

I didn’t, though. All I felt was a hollowness, right in the center of my being.

All I felt was dread.

What the hell?

“Hey Aly,” I said, my voice shaking. I closed my eyes. I felt the prickle of tears behind my lids. “We’ve got a walk in.”

“Excellent! It’ll be our first—” She stopped mid sentence when Tim and I walked into the room. “Shut up.”

Tim smirked. “My apologies, ladies, I should’ve rung first. But I live just down the lane here, and I figured I’d go for a quick walkabout before the rain…”

“Oh, Tim,” Aly said, licking her lips. “You’ll never have to apologize to me.”

I would’ve called her out for her shamelessness if it wasn’t for the fact that my throat was so tight I couldn’t breathe.

“Why don’t we sit?” I managed, sliding behind my desk. I pretended to rummage in a drawer for a pen to buy myself some time. The realization was hitting me like a ton of bricks, and I couldn’t deal.

I’d been able to fool myself up until now. But feeling nothing when Timothy Bardy came knocking with a castle was like a slap in the face. A reality check I didn’t know was coming.

I was miserable. The insomnia, the loss of appetite, the aches and pains—it had all started when I walked out on Kit. I thought making this dream come true for my business would make me happy. That’s what happiness was, wasn’t it? A successful career, a fat bank account. Great shoes.

I had all those things. And I was so unhappy I couldn’t even muster the will to sleep or eat.

Looking back, I realized just how freaking happy I was with Kit. I thought I was happy because EP Designs was back in business. But now I knew I was happy because I was with Kit.

I liked who I was with him. I liked the way he made me feel. Strong, sexy. Funny. I’d never felt so blissed out or so hopeful with anyone before.

If I couldn’t feel that with Timothy Bardy, I knew I couldn’t feel it with anyone else, either. It was only Kit.

It had always been Kit.

But I’d walked away from him. He’d offered me the world, and I pretty much told him to go fuck himself. There’s no way he’d take me back now. Not after the way I’d treated him. Not to mention photos of him with a very pretty brunette had surfaced in the past few weeks. He’d moved on already. From what I’d read about the brunette, she was perfect princess material. Which probably meant it was serious.

“Em, I have a pen if you need one,” Aly was saying.

I shook my head, keeping my eyes closed. I knew if I opened them I’d start crying.

I took a deep breath. Or tried to. The lump in my throat made it difficult. I just had to get through this meeting—this super important meeting—and then I could cry myself into oblivion.

Swallowing, I opened my eyes.

I looked at Tim. He was looking at me.

Then I dropped my head to my desk. It landed with a solid, painful thud. And then I burst into tears.

I heard Aly leap to her feet. “Em! Hey, Em? Jesus, did she just die? I’ll check for a pulse—”

“I’m alive,” I said, sniffing. Aly drew a reassuring hand across my back.

Tim cleared his throat. “Emily, are you, um, all right?”

“Yes. No. Sorry. It’s not you,” I said, waving him away. “You were great in Batman. So freaking great. It’s just…”

“She’s still in love with the man she scorned,” Aly explained. “It’s quite the tragedy.”

I raised my head to stare at her. “How did you know?”

“Seriously?” She rolled her eyes. “I would have to be dead not to notice how inconsolable you’ve been without him. You’re skin and bones. You look like death warmed over—”

“That’s nice,” I snapped.

“—And you haven’t smiled in months. You’re nocturnal. Pale as all get out. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were having an affair with Edward the vampire.”

“Ah, vampires,” Tim said, whipping a Kleenex out of the box on my desk and handing it to me. “I’ve always wanted to play one.”

“Thanks.” I took it from him and blew my nose. “Guys, what am I going to do?”

Aly plucked my phone out of my purse and handed it to me. “You’re going to call him, that’s what. You’re going to ask him to meet you somewhere. Then you’re going to show up wearing nothing but a trench coat, and you’re going to win him back using whatever means necessary.”

Tim nodded. “Sounds like a solid plan. I’d go for it.”

“But I can’t.” I pulled the tissue between my hands. “He has a new girlfriend. And I was pretty awful to him last time we spoke. I’d have to give up this business…” I glanced at the office around me. “It’s just not meant to be.”

“You don’t know that until you try.” Aly nudged me, still holding out the phone. “Call him, Em.”

I glanced at the phone. What would I even say to him if I did call? Honestly, for us to be together—to make our relationship work so that our lives weren’t miserable—either he’d have to abdicate, or I’d have to give up my firm.

Could I really ask him to freaking abdicate the throne of England? Was that even possible? It seemed like way too big of an ask.

But then could I really give up my business? Wiping my nose, I glanced around the office. It was such a pretty little spot. But I had to admit I wasn’t happy, no matter how pretty this office was or how well things were going.

Still. Even if I did give it all up, and even if Kit took me back, there was no guarantee that our relationship would last. And where would that leave me? I’d be alone and unemployed. I was alone now, but I was employed. Big difference.

It was obvious I wasn’t brave enough to go back to Kit. I wasn’t a risk taker. Never had been.

Taking a deep breath, I took the phone from Aly and dropped it back in my bag.

“I told you, it’s not meant to be.” I opened my notebook to a fresh page and uncapped a pen. I turned to Tim, swallowing the lump in my throat. I could do this. This was the right choice.

It was the only choice.

“So, Tim. Tell us about this castle of yours.”