It was early afternoon when I finally managed to drag myself out of Jett’s steamy bed to text Sylvie I’d be back home in an hour, in case she had forgotten. Because my car was still parked at the airport, costing me a fortune, Jett offered to drive me. Since I wasn’t keen on Jett’s speeding through New York’s streets, I declined in favor of the subway, which didn’t bode well with him. In the end we decided to call a company car that would drive me home. I left my car keys with him because he insisted on getting someone to pick it up for me, and I even let him carry my luggage downstairs from his apartment while his driver was waiting.

“You’ll text?” Shivering in the damp chill of a rainy afternoon, I bit my lip nervously. Playing the clingy girlfriend wasn’t like me, and yet I couldn’t help it. This was different. We were different.

Jett touched my nose with the tip of his finger, his eyes shining with wry amusement. “Will it freak you out if I do so while you’re still in the car?”

A warm, fuzzy explosion settled deep in my chest. “I’d love that.” He placed a gentle yet lingering kiss on my lips, and then held the door open for me.

After spending two weeks together, it felt surreal to drive away from him. Jett was where I belonged. To my surprise, the sudden realization didn’t weigh me down; it made my heart beat faster, and soft flutters like those of hundreds of butterfly wings gathered somewhere in the pit of my stomach.

It was the first time I’d ever ridden in a limo, and Jett’s driver made the journey even more memorable by pointing to a tiny refrigerator with snacks and champagne, which I politely declined. I wasn’t there to eat; I wanted to enjoy the view. And there was plenty to see.

Sitting in the back seat of the plush limousine, I stared out the tinted windows at buzzing New York. The city was coming to life, and in some way I felt I was too. We had defined the relationship, and today was our first day as a couple. I was dating a hot, successful guy who was very much into me. For the first time in my life, I felt I wasn’t as plain as I always thought. We had decided to keep our relationship a secret for a few more days, until I settled into my job. We didn’t want people thinking I got the job because I was sleeping with the boss. Theoretically I was, but it hadn’t been my intention to sleep my way up the career ladder. I had sex with Jett because I was attracted to him. Jett hired me because he wanted me. It was lust at first sight.

We had cancelled our contract after our midday romp, and I was finally free to reveal our status to Sylvie. In fact, Jett insisted on it, not telling me why. In my logic, it was a sign he wanted to enter my circle of friends and be introduced as my boyfriend. And I couldn’t wait for the whole world to know we were together.

I arrived at our apartment shortly after three p.m. and opened the door with apprehension, unsure what to expect. My best friend could be one of two things: so elated to see me that she’d forget I sort of hid the truth from her, or pissed because I kept a secret for two weeks. As I opened the door, I certainly didn’t expect to see the whole neighborhood gathered in our living room, shouting ‘Surprise’ at the top of their lungs. How the hell did Sylvie manage to gather the whole clique, including people I didn’t even know, in such a short time? She must have planned it for days. And that’s when it dawned on me that Sylvie could be a third thing: in party mode.

“Thanks, guys.” I put my suitcase down near the door and let a few of my friends envelop me in tight hugs, welcoming their congratulations on the new job. My gaze wandered across the room, sweeping over smiling, already intoxicated faces, and red drinking cups that littered our small living room. My attention fell on Sylvie who was squeezing her way toward me, her emotions clearly visible in her pouting lips and narrowed eyes.

She was mad but also curious. Our phone conversation hadn’t been forgotten. Knowing her focus on being liked by everybody, I knew she wouldn’t go for drama with so many people around. But there’d be plenty of hissed reproaches and venomous looks.

Taking a deep breath, I smiled.

I could deal with that. A crouching tigress was better than a pouncing one.

“Hey, you,” I said, grabbing her in a tight hug. “I missed you like crazy.”

“Stewart, you’re so screwed.” Her blue eyes twinkled, but her pout remained in place.

I made a point of unbuttoning my jacket in slow motion as I regarded her from under my lashes, teasing her with a wicked smile. “From that I gather you don’t want to hear the dirty?”

“You’re killing me.”

Laughing at her exaggerated eye roll, I grabbed a cup and took a sip of what tasted like Sylvie decided to empty an entire mini bar in there, and pulled her into a relatively quiet corner.

“Your plane landed yesterday. Where the heck have you been?” Her eyes spat fire. “Do you realize I had to keep this party up all night and day? You owe me a fortune for the booze.”

“I slept with him and now we’re together,” I blurted out, unable to contain the excitement in my voice.

For some reason I expected her to ask who I was talking about, but Sylvie just inclined her head and kept silent for a few moments, the glint in her eyes not quite mirroring the excitement I felt.

“At least he called,” was all she said.

“What?” I said slowly, shaking my head in confusion. “At least who called?” What was she talking about?

Waving her hand, she exhaled a long breath. “I told him I’d come after him with a pitchfork if he didn’t.”

“Who?” I crossed my arms over my chest, my gaze scanning her cryptic expression. I really had no idea what she was talking about.

“Who do you I think?” She rolled her eyes. “Jett, of course.”

“You know his name?” Why did she know his name?

“Of course I do.”

“How?” It was a stupid question. Her raised eyebrow said it all. They had exchanged numbers on that fateful night before I woke up with him in my bed. Or maybe during their morning talk while I was taking a shower and preparing myself for work. Later, she had offered to tell me his name, but I thought she was bluffing. I didn’t like it. Not one bit. All heat drained from my cheeks as something else dawned on me.

“You stayed in touch?” My voice sounded like a bird’s croak, all low and hoarse. The first wave of shock hit me hard. It wasn’t because my best friend had his number. I wasn’t that jealous and insecure. I just didn’t like people talking about me behind my back.

“Did you talk while we were in Italy?” I asked, moistening my suddenly dry lips.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. So they did, and she knew something. Maybe everything.

As though sensing my annoyance, Sylvie opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it, only to open it a moment later. “Brooke, guys like him don’t do relationships. I don’t mind you dating him, but don’t get too involved emotionally.”

“You don’t even know him,” I hissed.

“Fair enough, I don’t know him that well but—” She trailed off. As though she couldn’t look at me, she buried her gaze in her cup, which gave me enough time to take in her demure dress reaching just below her knees, and the sweetheart neckline that barely revealed any skin. Maybe the fling with Ryan touched her more than I thought, and she couldn’t share my enthusiasm because she had lost faith in all men. If I were lied to, sacked, and disappointed, maybe I’d also start thinking men don’t do relationships. But I didn’t experience her heartbreak, and Jett was nothing like Ryan.

I knew Sylvie meant me no harm; her emotional scars just hadn’t healed yet. I wrapped my arm around her and rubbed her back gently. “Oh, sweetie. Thanks for being such a good friend.”

As if my words broke the ice, a hesitant smile replaced the wary curve of her lips. “You’re happy?”

I nodded. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Then I’m happy too.”

Ignoring the sudden lump in my throat, I began to recall my trip to Bellagio, omitting the sex agreement and steamy bits, so I mostly focused on the landscape and beautiful Italian views, the mansion, and Jett.

“Shit, you’re fawning,” Sylvie said as I finally finished.

“Am not.”

Was I?

“That’s what falling in love does to one.”

I had been thinking the same, but to hear the truth coming from her mouth, full of conviction, scared me. Falling in love wasn’t meant to happen so fast…or so intensely.

“I’m not in love.” My voice came out louder than intended. It was a lie. I could hear it, she could hear it. Heck, the whole world probably could.

A few heads turned in our direction. Sylvie waved them to turn away before she focused back on me. Her blue eyes sliced into me with an unnerving intensity, and she leaned closer so no one would hear her. “Listen, darling, I’m sure Jett is a nice guy and all, but he’s also one of the richest men in New York. He might not want to hurt you, but others will. This is a whole different society. Even if you accompany him everywhere, wear and do what people expect of you, you won’t be accepted into their circle because of your background.”

She couldn’t be serious. “What the heck are you talking about? You’re making it sound like I’m getting involved with the Mafia.”

“Worse,” she mumbled.

“What?”

She raised her hands in defense. “Nothing. I just thought I’d warn you.”

“About what?” The whole situation was so funny, I could barely contain my hysteria. Of course she knew everything about rich people and the high society. She had been born into it and spent eighteen years of her life trying to please her mother, before turning her back on it all. Apart from the regular check that came in the post and her fondness for expensive stuff, there were no reminders of her background. She never mentioned her past or family, and I didn’t ask.

“Watch The Real Housewives, and multiply that by ten. And then you might get an idea,” Sylvie said.

I didn’t want to point out she was referencing a reality TV show, and they usually come scripted to their teeth. They don’t film people doing normal stuff, like brushing their teeth and lounging around in their PJs because no one’s interested in that stuff. “I’m so jet lagged I need to get some sleep.” I stood and placed a soft peck on her cheek.

“What about the party?”

I shrugged. “Might be time to send them all home and call it a day.” I loved my friends and appreciated the fact that they turned up to congratulate me on my job and making it back from Europe, alive. But let’s face it, they were more interested in filling up their drinking cups than listening to my traveling stories. “But thanks for this. Did I ever tell you you’re the best friend ever?”

Sylvie crossed her toned arms over her chest, still pouting, but for once she kept quiet. With an apologetic smile, I left for my room and locked the door behind me. I didn’t even bother to change, just stripped off my clothes and snuggled into my cotton sheets, ready to catch up on all the sleep I missed out in the last two weeks. But, as tired as I was, Sylvie’s words kept ringing inside my head. All I could think of was that I was in debt, with no savings left, and there were so many women richer than me, more beautiful, and more successful, who’d kill for a slice of Jett. If someone were to ask me what I could offer him on the long term, apart from my heart, the answer would be: I don’t know.

 

***

 

The persistent tugging at my arm, followed by someone calling my name, jerked me out of my sleep. I blinked groggily against the glaring brightness and tried to pull the covers over my head.

“Brooke, wake up,” Sylvie said, yanking my sheets off the bed.

Aware of my half-naked body, I sat up and pulled the sheets back over my breasts to cover my modesty. “What the hell do you want?” My eyes threw daggers at her sheepish expression.

“Sorry.” She wasn’t. “The guy I’ve been telling you about is on the phone. He insisted that I wake you, so—” She trailed off.

I checked my watch and groaned inwardly. I had slept for a mere three hours. “So you, being a good friend and all, risked giving a very tired me a heart attack because some sales shark told you so.”

She shrugged and turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, “He has a nice accent. And he said you’d want to hear what he has to tell you.”

Of course.

That certainly made sense.

Ignoring the urge to crawl back into my bed, I wrapped a bathrobe around my shivering body and walked into the hall to get this admittedly extremely pushy sales clerk out of my life.

“How can I help you?” My voice sounded a little hoarse from the lack of sleep, but you could still hear the frosty undertones.

“Miss Brooke Stewart? My name’s Jake Clarkson from Clarkson & Miles. I’ve been trying to reach you for two weeks. Did you get my letter?”

Holy cow, he didn’t beat around the bush. “I don’t think I have,” I said, slowly scanning the glossy magazines and newspapers stacked neatly next to the phone, when I remembered Sylvie had mentioned a mysterious envelope. I had asked her to leave it in my room so it wouldn’t freak her out. “Actually, I haven’t opened it yet since I only just arrived back home.”

“No problem. We can discuss its contents. Would you be available to meet with me, preferably sooner rather than later?”

His questions struck me as odd. Why would he want to meet with me, unless it was an emergency? “Did anything happen?”

He laughed briefly, and I knew it was fake. “No, of course not, Miss Stewart. Please understand that I’m not in the position to discuss such important business with you on the phone. I’ve come all the way from London, and I really need to talk with you in private.”

Important business sounded grave enough without the serious undercurrent of his tone. And if a person came all the way from wherever he came from, I figured it was double serious business.

“What did you say your name was?” Regaining my wits, I grabbed a notepad and pen. As he repeated his details, I scribbled them down.

“Jake Clarkson. I’m an attorney with Clarkson & Miles. London headquarters.”

An attorney. And he seemed even more no-nonsense than me. I didn’t like lawyers. They had brought me nothing but bad news. My pulse sped up and my hands turned clammy. I wiped my palms on my bathrobe and cleared my throat to get rid of the sudden lump. The Britain part was pretty obvious from his accent.

What would someone like him want from me…unless I did something wrong and the offended tried to resolve the issue with the help of an attorney before the whole thing escalated into something ugly?

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Everything’s fine. Are you available today?” he persisted. “Any time would work for me. Even evening. It wouldn’t take long.”

“Today? It’s that urgent?” Given that the digital clock on our answering machine stated it was already ten past six, the guy sure seemed anxious to get a meeting. I briefly considered whether it was a bright idea to meet up at this time of day. It probably wasn’t, so I decided against it.

“I could meet with you tomorrow after work. Maybe around six-ish?” I offered.

A pause, then, “Let’s make it six.”

I gave him the address of a café which was on my route home, about half an hour away. Good enough not to inconvenience me, but not close enough so he could follow me in case he had stalking tendencies.

“Thank you. Have a lovely evening.” He hung up, leaving me no chance to ask him for his phone number in case I couldn’t make it.

“Weird, huh?” Sylvie said from the doorway, not even hiding the fact she had been eavesdropping.

“Hm.” I motioned her to follow me as I rushed into my room and found the envelope on my desk. With a quick flick of my wrist I tore it open, ignoring the look of dread on Sylvie’s face. When nothing blew up, she inched closer to peer over my shoulder.

I pushed the white crisp paper into her hand. “It’s just a formal letter inviting me to get in touch with them regarding urgent matters.”

Skimming the contents of the letter, Sylvie nodded slowly and then placed it on my desk. “What do you think he wants?”

“No idea. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” I couldn’t quite hide the worry in my voice.

“Do you want me to accompany you?” She trailed off, leaving the ‘in case’ part hanging between us.

I shook my head. “Looks like he is who he says he is, so I’ll be fine. It’s probably not important. Maybe I won the lottery or something.” In spite of my attempt at infusing humor to take off the heat, my voice didn’t quite manage to hide my nervousness. Luckily, Sylvie always knew when to make me feel better.

She wrapped her arm around my shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially. “Tomorrow’s your first day at the new office, huh?” I nodded, unsure where she was heading with this, and let her continue. “We never really got a chance to celebrate.”

And that’s when her intentions became clear. She wanted to party. Of course.

“Oh.”

She nodded, and a huge smile lit up her big blue eyes. “Yeah.”

I shook my head, laughing. “No, Sylvie. I can’t. Not today.”

“Just one drink. I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.” She pursed her lips and scrunched up her face to give me a puppy look worthy of an Oscar. I knew her tricks. One drink never ever literally equaled one drink, but she was my friend, and I hadn’t seen her in two weeks. Vowing to stick with soda and be back before nine, I grinned at her. “All right. But if you get drunk, I’m not helping you home.”

“You won’t have to. You know I’m not a lightweight. Unlike you. I should text Jett to join us, just in case you need a hot guy to tuck you into bed.” She winked. “Like last time.”

“You texted him?” My cheeks flamed up.

“Someone had to invite him to join our crew. After your hot night together, I thought I was doing you a favor,” Sylvie said, sheepishly.

Oh, god.

“As my best friend, it’s your duty to ask me before making such a huge decision.” I pondered whether to be grateful, angry, or downright mortified. In the end, a mixture of all three won. “And you should have told me you got his number.”

“Well, someone had to get it for you since you didn’t have the guts to ask him about it. Thank me later.”

I stared after her, open-mouthed, as she rushed out of my room sporting a self-satisfied smirk.