It turns out the time-of-the-month card is good for multiple days off from work. When I called in to check with James, he couldn’t get off the phone fast enough. Anya is a genius.

And I’m a wreck.

Taking my own advice is much easier said than done. Demanding the best is hard when your heart wants the thing you know is bad for it. My head is determined to hold on to my principles but my heart aches to answer the phone every time I see Milo’s name flash on the screen.

Which it’s doing right now. He really is unfairly handsome.

I push the phone away with a scowl. I don’t have time for handsome men and their excuses. I’m busy. There are Netflix shows I need to watch. Just me and my stress cow against the world. My fingers give Chelsea a comforting squeeze. Hey don’t judge, it really does make me feel better.

Ariana clears her throat.

Oh yeah, she’s here too.

“I’m going to say something that you aren’t going to like but just hear me out.” Her voice is muffled as she takes another spoonful of ice cream. She resisted binge eating with me on day one but even she only has but so much willpower.

The power of Chunky Monkey is incontrovertible.

“Just say it. I don’t really think anything you say could make this worse.”

When Ari has something she wants to say there’s no holding her back anyway, whether you grant her permission or not. Plus, I kind of do want an outside perspective on this.

“William was a twat.”

My mouth falls open. “Wait, what? I thought you liked him?”

She shrugs. “I didn’t dislike him. Or at least I didn’t until I noticed how he always put you down and never seemed to care about what you want. Everything was about him.”

“What does it matter now? We’ve broken up.” I hate that I’m feeling defensive about this. But somehow it feels like an attack, as if not seeing William’s true colors is a reflection of my bad judgment. Which maybe it is.

“Because I saw those roses you brought home a few weeks ago. Then you mentioned he came by yesterday. If there’s even a chance that you two might get back together, I want it on record that I think you can do way better. You deserve someone who knows how awesome you are, Mya. And you didn’t get excited when you talked about him. But you know who you did get excited about?”

I hold up my hand. “Don’t even say it. I don’t want that name in my mental space. This is supposed to be an asshole-free zone!” My hand clenches around Chelsea a few times.

“Jesus, stop squeezing that damn cow! It’s kind of turning me on and even I’m not that fucked up.” She heaves a dramatic sigh. “Look, I’m just saying you should talk to him. Give him a chance to explain. Because that kind of chemistry doesn’t come along every day.” Having said her piece, she rises gracefully, scooping up Oreo as she goes. Then she pauses.

“Also, whenever you and Will would fool around in your room, I’d always hear your vibrator after he left. You didn’t have that problem with Milo. Just saying.”

“Ari!” I slide down in my chair and put a throw pillow over my face.

Her laughter follows her out of the room. “No shame girl, I’m just saying you shouldn’t have to put up with a dude’s shit and still have to take care of yourself. What the hell is the point of that?”

After she’s gone I take the pillow off of my head and let out a sigh.

What the hell is the point?

Maybe I should at least hear him out. I would like to think that I’ve matured enough to know that things are not always black and white. Sometimes two people can be in the exact same situation but see it differently. It’s possible Milo didn’t think he was being underhanded by talking to the client directly or that he was planning to tell me about it. Ugh.

Now I’m just rationalizing and trying to find a reason to forgive him. Good sex isn’t a reason to overlook lies and treachery. But we do work together and I can’t stay home eating Ben & Jerry’s forever. So I probably need to talk to him sooner rather than later. Better to have this confrontation outside of the office.

I pick up my phone and skim all the I’m sorry and Let me explain texts. Then I notice a call from an unfamiliar number. The same number left a voicemail.

Miss Taylor, this is Andre Lavin. I heard from Mr. Lawson that you’ve been under the weather and I’m sorry to hear that. But if possible, I would like to take you to dinner before I leave town. I’ll be dining at Les Printemps tonight at 8pm. Join me if you can.

My loud whoop brings Ari running. Her robe flaps open behind her as she bursts into the room, Oreo yipping at her heels.

“What’s going on? What happened?”

I struggle to my feet, sluggish after two days on the couch feeling sorry for myself. But I’m going to have to rally because this is my chance to explain my side of the story to Mr. Lavin. More than likely I’ll have to swallow my pride and grovel to make up for the lies we told in Vegas. But now that he’s seen my campaign, maybe he’s more inclined to forgive if it means getting a kickass launch for his new line.

“Andre Lavin wants to meet me for dinner. This is my chance. I have to convince him that Mirage can handle this account, despite everything that’s happened. Because if I don’t at least try to salvage this, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Ari nods along. “You’ve got this, girl. Put your big girl panties on and go get that account. Well, honestly any panties other than the ones you’re wearing. Because you’ve been on this couch for like two days straight.”

See what I mean? She never holds back.

* * *

Groveling is supposed to be hard work. But Mr. Lavin has been incredibly understanding. In fact, almost too understanding. Every time I try to explain what happened in Vegas, he redirects the conversation.

“Mr. Lavin, I really do want to apologize for lying to you. That was–”

He holds up a hand, pausing me mid-speech. “Andre. Please call me Andre.”

“Right. As I was saying, we really didn’t intend to be dishonest.”

Mr. Lavin leans forwards, starting to say something but has to lean back when the waiter arrives. After hearing an impressive array of specials, I point randomly to something on the menu. Mr. Lavin orders filet mignon and a bottle of wine with a name that I can’t pronounce.

I look around the restaurant. Les Printemps is a well-established, very fancy, restaurant and often a meeting place between the movers and shakers of D.C. Now I’m here, wearing my best little black dress and dining with a client. This feels surreal.

“Thank you for the invitation. I appreciate the opportunity. We didn’t really have time to talk at the office.”

“Of course,” he purrs. “I’ve been intrigued by you from the start. Am I wrong that you felt it, too?”

I pause. Maybe this is a language barrier but I’m starting to get a little uncomfortable.

“Oh no, I’ve definitely been intrigued by Lavin Fashions from the start. The way you mix the masculine and the feminine is groundbreaking. Your designs have ushered in a new way of thinking about the female form.”

“Cara mia, I am always thinking about the female form.”

His slow smile is so intimate that I can almost hear the woman at the next table sigh. Jeez, this guy just drips Italian charisma. You can almost get high from the pheromones. I don’t even think he realizes the effect he has. Flirting is just second nature to him.

“Of course. But in regards to the campaign–”

My eyes land on a man sitting right behind Mr. Lavin. He was seated a few minutes ago and it barely registered. I’ve been completely focused on explaining my bad behavior. But when he shifts his menu to the left, I can’t deny that something about the shape of those shoulders is really familiar.

“More wine, Mya?”

I snap back to attention. “No, thank you. It’s probably better if I don’t. Otherwise I might forget everything I wanted to discuss.”

He winks. “There is no need to rush, bella. We have all night.”

“All night? Why would we have all night?” Oh god, did I zone out and miss something? Focus, Mya.

He pauses, his fingers on the stem of his wineglass. “Well, I assumed after dinner perhaps we could go dancing. Whatever you wish.”

Something about the way he’s looking at me makes me pause. My eyes bounce over the table, the single candle in the middle, the lily he presented me with when I arrived. If I hadn’t come charging in here so focused on professional redemption, I would have seen it before.

This scenario looks nothing like a business meeting. The stage has been set for romance not business.

I’m on a date with Andre Lavin.

“Oh boy,” I whisper under my breath.

If you’d asked me earlier if there was any way I could screw up this business arrangement any worse, I’d have assured you that we were already at rock bottom. But now I’m on a date, that I didn’t know was a date, talking about business while Mr. Lavin has apparently been talking about something else entirely.

As Ariana would say, fuck a duck.

“Mr. Lavin–”

“Andre,” he corrects automatically.

“Right. This is awkward. I’m not really sure what to say. I wasn’t aware that this was a personal…” I struggle to find the right words, “meeting.”

He leans across the table, his dark eyes never leaving mine. “You are a very beautiful woman, Mya. I find you intoxicating.”

Despite not being interested at all, I find myself melting a little under that gaze. Hey, don’t judge me until you’ve sat in a dimly lit room across from a handsome billionaire while he calls you intoxicating. Most women would have already thrown their panties at him.

“Wow. I honestly don’t know what to say. This is a bit of a shock.” And also a potential landmine. If I stay, I risk him getting the wrong idea. If I go, then I might offend him and damage any chance there is of Mirage getting his business.

His eyes narrow slightly. “I was under the impression that you were aware of my interest. Ever since Vegas.”

“When Milo told you he’d be the best fit for this job? Yeah, I overheard you two talking. That’s why I’m here. I wanted the chance to talk about my ideas for your campaign. I’m not sure what Milo told you but I really feel that my ideas for marketing the groom’s tuxedos alongside the bridal gowns will set you apart.”

Andre sits back, his expression measured. “Is that what you think we talked about in Vegas? No, we didn’t talk about the account. We talked about you.”

“Me?”

“Mr. Hamilton was quite clear that he didn’t appreciate my interest in you. He warned me to stay away from you.”

“He did?” My mind is racing, trying to fit this new knowledge in with my memories of the trip. How did Milo find time to speak to Mr. Lavin alone when we were together the whole time?

Mr. Lavin laughs softly. Even his laugh is elegant, a sort of low, rumbling growl. “It was very late after dinner when I encountered Mr. Hamilton at the bar. He made it clear that you were involved.”

“We’re not together. I mean, we’re not a couple.”

My heart clenches at the reminder. I’ve been so angry with Milo, thinking that he’d gone behind my back. More so, thinking that he’d valued business over our developing relationship. But now I find out that he wasn’t thinking about business at all, he was trying to protect me?

“Not many men would threaten the competition over a woman who’s just a friend. You’re lucky to have found someone who would do anything, even jeopardize his career for you.”

“Milo threatened you?” My eyes seek out his. This close I can see the unusual shading of his striking dark eyes and smell the subtle aroma of his cologne. Any other woman would be drooling. But all I can think about are a pair of laughing blue eyes. “You must have misunderstood.”

“I assure you he was quite clear.” Andre smiles wryly. “After that I was discouraged. I would not pursue a woman who is engaged to be married. But after what I overheard at your office…”

Just then a waiter appears holding a plate aloft. When he lowers it, Milo’s face appears. “Someone ordered a steak?”

“Milo?”

He drops the plate unceremoniously on the table and then slides into the booth next to me. Mr. Lavin watches, his eyes twinkling at the sudden turn of events. He doesn’t even seem perturbed, just picks up the wine bottle again.

“Mr. Hamilton, I didn’t know you’d be joining us. Wine?”

Milo glares at him before grabbing the bottle. “Don’t mind if I do.” He takes a swig directly from the bottle. “You didn’t waste any time making your move, I see.”

“I never waste time. Life is too short. We have a saying in Italy. Vivi il presente. It means to live in the moment.” He picks up his fork and cuts into his steak.

“We have a saying where I’m from too,” Milo retorts. “Back the fuck off and find your own girl.”

I whack Milo in the chest. “Would you stop? Nothing happened. We’re just talking.”

Before he can say anything else, the real waiter arrives. He looks at the plate on the table and then at the one he’s carrying. “Your meal, sir?”

Mr. Lavin looks down at the steak he’s just taken a bite of, his brow wrinkling in confusion.

We all turn at the sound of a commotion. A man across the dining room is pointing at our table and gesticulating wildly.

Milo shrugs. “Yeah, I just grabbed that plate off a random table.” He salutes the man across the room. “You could do with less red meat, buddy. Heart disease is a killer!”

Mr. Lavin chokes slightly before spitting the food into a napkin. “Well played, Mr. Hamilton.”

I put a hand to my forehead. We’re going to end up getting arrested. That’s if no one ends up with food poisoning first.

While the waiter takes the renegade plate away, Mr. Lavin suddenly pats his suit pocket. He pulls out his cell phone. The smile on his face disappears and he stands.

“Mi scusi. I must take this call.”

As soon as he’s gone, I turn to Milo. “What the hell are you doing?”