It was difficult to hold a conversation given that my whole attention was on the woman in the night sky blue dress and nowhere else. Thankfully, my sister Claire had opted for tonight to be the night when she and Killian came out as being more than friendly enemies to everyone who didn’t already know, so the attention from Payton and Seph was taken away from my inability to hold a conversation.

I’d had women, more than my fair share, but this was the first time I’d been captivated. Earlier I’d caught my expression in a mirror and recognised it as the one I’d seen on Jackson’s face after he and Vanessa had been together for a few weeks and it both terrified and enthralled me. Inviting her to stay with me while her landlord sorted out the lock on the door was making me freak out because I wasn’t freaked out. It was only temporary; we’d spent time together on less than a dozen occasions and she was as independent as they came, but the idea of one day sharing space with her on a regular basis didn’t make me want to run for the nearest exit, and that was unusual.

My hook ups were casual, with women who were after a decent fuck with a decent bloke who wasn’t going to make them feel shit a day or even two days later. I knew that in this room there were at least three of my exes, all of whom had spotted me and the fact that I had brought a date, something I hadn’t done before.

The rumour would soon be hitting the university treadmill that I was taken, and again I wasn’t stirred by fear.

“Your girl looks good. I hope you’ve noticed her dress,” Jackson said, arriving next to me with a glass of whisky.

“I’ve even examined underneath it,” I said, intentionally crude.

He laughed. “Now I know you’ve not been taken over by aliens. You seem to really like her. I’ve not seen you even acknowledge anything else since we got here. You’ve not even tried to murder Killian.”

Killian was my best friend and now my sister’s boyfriend. “I’d known for a couple of weeks but she asked me not to say anything till they were sure.”

“Turn up for the books,” Jackson said.

I just nodded, there was more to the story but it wasn’t mine to tell. “Where’s Vanessa?”

“With Victoria.”

I let my gaze slip away from Victoria for a second to notice that Vanessa was sitting next to her, slightly obscured by the man who had joined them. I recognised him as Judge Howell, her friend Jacob’s father and one of the speakers at tonight’s dinner. As far as I knew he was happily married so I figured steaming over there in a jealous rage would be pointless, plus it’d possibly cost me a case next time I got him in court.

“Is she still going to move to America?” Jackson said. “Is that the plan? She’s going to get a lot more money than she thought.”

“How much?” It didn’t matter to me. I was one of the lucky ones who didn’t have to worry about cash or even working, although I think my father would’ve hired a hitman if I’d ever suggested being a trust fund brat.

“Close to six million.”

“Jesus.” She wouldn’t have a clue what to do with that. “Where did her grandfather get all of that from?”

“His wife’s pay out from the accident at work which ultimately cost her her life; very astute investments; careful living and the sale of the house and some of the contents,” Jackson said. “You can tell her if you like. I’ll forward you the letter I’ll be sending out on Monday. Her brother has no further claim. His solicitors have backed off completely.”

“I’ll leave it to you. I’d rather keep it separate. Out of interest, where was the house?”

“Mundania Road. It was bought by investors who are doing a big reno on it. Why, you thinking of buying her a present?”

I shook my head, staring at the whisky I had in my hand. “She doesn’t know where she’s going to be after she’s finished her doctorate.”

“So this is just a casual fling?”

Jackson’s gaze was on Vanessa who was now headed towards us.

“Something like that,” I told him as much as myself. I wasn’t thinking much about her leaving, mainly because it was months away. The prospect of her moving away from London was possibly why I wasn’t feeling the urge to keep her away from the staples of my life such as my family. It wouldn’t turn into anything serious because she wasn’t staying so I didn’t have to commit or worry about hurting her, because it wasn’t going to have longevity anyway.

“Not seen you look at anyone else like you do her,” Jackson said, putting his arm around Vanessa as she came up to us.

“What’s that?” my soon to be sister-in-law asked.

“The way Max looks at Victoria.”

“Your fiancé’s had too much to drink,” I said. “I’d monitor what he has for the rest of the evening.”

“He’s right,” she said to me, completely ignoring my comment. “You do look at her differently. You’re not usually so, well, watchful. Or tactile.”

She had a point: if I brought a date or took a woman out I kept my hands to myself until we were in private. I’d been different tonight with Victoria but I’d needed to touch her, remind her that I was there and absorb her warmth.

“What do you think of her?” I asked Vanessa. They’d spoken last week and had been talking tonight, so I figured she’d have an opinion by now. I liked Vanessa a lot: she’d been good for my brother and the rest of us and her judgement of people was sound.

“Lovely. Outspoken and intelligent. To be honest, I would’ve thought she’d have eaten you for breakfast,” Vanessa said, making Jackson snort.

I scowled at her. “Why?”

Vanessa laughed. “Because she’s opinionated and completely unafraid of voicing what she thinks. The women I’ve seen you with have always been very bright but quieter whereas she’s no shy, retiring type.”

Victoria had started to walk over towards us, the judge with her. She hadn’t worn her glasses and whatever she’d done with her make-up made her eyes stand out even more than usual. I swallowed loudly enough for my brother to cast me a concerned look and tried to peel my eyes away from her, but it was useless. She had completely captivated me.

“I believe you two know each other?” she said, gesturing between me and Judge Howell. “And you probably know Jackson too, Jim?”

Judge Howell nodded. “I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you both in court a few times. Well done on that clinical negligence case you had recently, Maxwell. The wrong ointment, I believe.”

“Thank you. It was a tough one,” I said. It hadn’t been, not if you knew your stuff like I did, but arrogance with a judge was always a stupid path to take. “I hear you’re thinking of retiring.”

He nodded. “At some point next year. Have you thought about moving up in the future?”

“Maybe when I stop enjoying what I do. As it is, I’m finding my cases really worthwhile and the practice is growing significantly. It’s an exciting time to work at Callaghan Green,” I said, deferring a question that I’d been asked more than once. I was thirty-six but my career was that of someone much older than me.

“Your dad must be proud—of both of you,” he said, looking between Jackson and myself.

We both nodded. “He is,” I said, meaning it.

My relationship with my father had been strained. I blamed him for my mother’s suicide, for not spotting the signs, for not stepping up to the plate of being a husband and father until Marie came along and taught him what to do. The time in between my mother dying and Marie arriving had seen me try to be what my little sister and brothers needed. I’d changed diapers, made up bottles, sorted out packed lunches and even though I was no older than six or seven, I’d done what I could to look after them. But I was my father. I knew I was success-driven and I’d inherited my skills and thirst for knowledge from him.

At first, my father had resented the four of us. If we hadn’t been there, he’d have been free to pursue his career without the added hassle of having to sort out four young children. We’d also been a reminder of my mother, who he’d worshipped. But as I got older and became interested in what took him away from us so often, he’d started to take an interest in me, teaching me about torts and compromise agreements, land law and contracts. And I’d loved it.

The attention from him became a bonus. My motivation had not been to please him; I was too angry still for that. Instead, I’d fallen in love with law and wanted to be the best, and ultimately to change how things were done and what people were allowed to do.

“Is he enjoying retirement?” Judge Howell said. “I never thought I’d see the day when he stopped working.”

“Neither did we,” Jackson said. “We called the firm his eldest child. He’s loving retirement but then Marie doesn’t let him sit down. They’ve just bought a winery in Ontario so he’s buried himself in business plans and marketing for that. Vanessa’s had the pleasure of working with him this week on some branding ideas.”

“Thankfully she managed not to brand him herself,” I said. My arm was now around Victoria’s waist, hand on her hip. She leaned into me, listening to the conversation. Judge Howell smiled at her. “When my father’s obsessed with something he’s not the easiest person to work with.”

“He’s been a pussy cat,” Vanessa interjected. “Jackson’s worse when he’s in full business mode. Your dad’s been a lot of fun. And we get Christmas in Toronto which is exciting, if a little cold.”

“And required a whole new wardrobe, or so Ava leads me to believe.” Jackson pressed a kiss to her head. If I hadn’t been pulling Victoria so closely I would’ve termed him pussy-whipped. Instead, I was being fucking pussy-whipped myself and a strangely warm feeling was running through me.

I put it down to the whisky.

“I told you, I have no suitable clothes for that temperature,” Vanessa said, one hand touching the stubble he called a beard and I called a poor attempt.

“When do you two get married?” Judge Howell asked.

“April,” Vanessa said. “I’m trying to keep it simple, but I don’t think a wedding can ever be simple.”

“My daughter aimed for the same thing and I think I ended up having to cash in a pension. You remember it, Vic?”

Victoria nodded. “It was lovely though. Probably my favourite wedding that I’ve been to.”

“Hopefully mine will tie with that then,” Vanessa said. “It’s not the easiest thing to plan. I thought it would be straightforward but you have so many people trying to overcharge.”

The conversation strayed down a path I had no experience of and little interest in. I caught Jackson’s eye, then stepped away from Vanessa and Victoria, leaving them with the judge.

“Seph appears to have found himself a woman for the night,” Jackson said, nodding towards the bar where our younger brother was standing. There was a tall blonde draped over him. I vaguely recognised her as a lawyer from another firm—these events were always filled with people you knew or recognised—and wondered how much intervention we’d need to provide.

“I think that’s Nina Dewsberry,” I said. “Works for Hawks Middleton.”

“We’re against them in a property dispute,” Jackson said. “I think she does litigation though, if it is her. The last time I saw her she looked just about old enough to buy alcohol, let alone practice law.”

“We’re getting old, brother.”

“We’re not. Just wiser. Are you going to be my best man?”

He hadn’t mentioned anything before. Vanessa’s bridesmaids had been decided months ago, but Jackson had been quiet about his side. I’d thought that maybe he’d decided to leave that role, given that there were three brothers and a couple of very good friends to pick from.

“You realise I know more about how to embarrass you than anyone else?” It was the only response I could think of.

“And yet still I ask you.”

“I have free range with the speech?”

“If you can take on the job of keeping me calm before and if she changes her mind getting me so drunk I don’t wake up for a week then it’s a deal,” he said, his eyes on Vanessa.

“She’s not going to change her mind, Jacks. For some reason beyond any level of intelligence she seems to like you,” I said. “Just keep giving her your credit cards.”

“Let’s have another whisky to seal it then,” Jackson said, heading to the bar.

Victoria was still deep in conversation with Judge Howell and the soft tap on the shoulder I gave her became my arms wrapping around her waist, as discretely as I could in front of a judge.

She looked behind to see me and smiled, her body relaxing into mine.

“I’m going to the bar. Do you want a drink?” Her hand had been empty for too long.

“A glass of rioja?”

“Anything,” I said and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Vanessa, your husband-to-be forgot to ask.”

“Just get a bottle of rioja. It’ll save further trips to the bar,” she said, grinning at Victoria.

“Judge?”

“A whisky, if you’re buying, Maxwell,” he said, smiling.

“It’s Jackson’s round, so I’ll make it a double.”

Victoria’s head was against my shoulder as we sat in the cab on the way back to mine. The bottle of rioja had turned into two, and two intelligent, classy women had become two giggly females before two am had struck.

“I love your sister-in-law, she’s just amazing,” Victoria said, her words blurring into each other. “She’s the composed, less volatile version of me. We’re going out for cocktails next week with Claire. Do you mind?”

I loved the fact she could use the word volatile when she was off her face drunk. “Why would I mind?” She was as she’d described, only I would’ve worded it differently: feisty, passionate, original.

“Because this is just a casual fuck-fest and I’m having cocktails with your sister and sister-in-law.”

Casual fuck-fest? I wasn’t sure I’d had that term applied to what I’d been doing before. I didn’t recognise how I felt right now, it was foreign and strange and not my usual. “I think you’re amazing, they’re going to think the same and they’re pretty amazing too. Why wouldn’t you want to meet up?”

She turned to me and gave me a sloppy kiss. “You make me want to stay in London.”

It was at that point I realised I was on the way to being well and truly fucked.

I woke for the second time in as many days with my body wrapped round the soft skin of a woman. Her scent was of peaches and morning dew and me; my aftershave coated her as I knew it should, even with the bleariness of gradual awakening.

When we arrived home, I’d persuaded her to drink water and eat grilled cheese. Of course, she’d demanded more wine and as much as I knew it was adding power to her hangover, I’ve given in. Just one glass. Who was I to say no?

Then she’d walked around the apartment, opening windows and destroying the air conditioning, complaining that it was too warm. The window in my bedroom was left wide open, the London noise filtering through. We drank more water and talked about politics and elections and leaving Europe and then she’d fallen asleep in my arms, muttering about history and how it’s all part of the same thing.

It was Saturday morning and Victoria was sound asleep. I knew she’d spent most of the week working in the law department or on her thesis late into the evening and early into the morning. I’d received an email sent at three am one morning, outlining the law at the time around medical procedures during the First World War. I’d responded—it was something I could help her on at least, but even I’d not been awake at that time.

I slipped out of the bed, untangling myself from her limbs and hair and headed into my kitchen. My tablet was on the side near the coffee machine; the temptation to look at the house on Mundania Road was too much. It was a seven-bedroom detached, the pictures illustrating the modernisation it needed. But it had been Victoria’s home. When I looked closely at the photos I could see the ornaments and pictures she probably had in storage. There was a lot of dark wood furniture and one photograph showed a room that looked like it had been hers.

I closed the tab in my browser, needing to push this to the back of my head to think about later.

Coffee brewed as I opened the blinds, looking out on the London that surrounded me. It was Saturday and the world about us was awake and moving. From my vantage point I could see people heading towards The Shard or Borough Market, the Tate Modern beyond and I felt the pull of the city where I chose to live. I loved it here.

As kids, we’d spent our time between Oxfordshire and our schools and the city. My dad and Marie had kept the big house in the countryside and a large apartment in Southwark so my father could easily stay in London when he had a lot of work on.

The city had been my constant lover. The busyness and bustle appealed to me, the still and silence of the country gave me too much time to think. It was different now; I liked going to my parents’ place and the peace it provided because the busyness I’d created had quelled any demons left inside me. But I couldn’t trust myself to not be my father. How would I spot my partner’s low mood if I was so immersed in my job? How could I ever step away from work if that was what I was.

“Good morning.”

I turned around to see Victoria standing there, wearing just one of my oversized old Oxford university T-shirts. Her hair was curly from whatever she’d done with it the night before and her face was bare of make-up. She looked both tired and happy, her eyes sleepy and filled with what I thought was lust or at least attraction.

“You’re awake. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You didn’t,” she said. “Well, you kind of did, but I don’t mind. What time is it?”

“Nine-thirty,” I said, unable to take my eyes away from her body, her full of legs and her breasts. “I like you in my clothes.”

“Because they’re yours or because they give a hint as to what’s underneath?”

“Both,” I said honestly. “But then I think you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen no matter what you’re wearing or what mood you’re in.”

She laughed and she was beautiful. “You don’t know me well enough yet.”

But I wanted to. “Coffee?”

“Hell, yeah. Do you have any plans today?”

There were a million ways to answer that question, all of which would’ve been honest, all of which would’ve brought immense pleasure to both of us, I hoped. But the rush of feelings I was having didn’t mean there was any need for verbal diarrhoea. “No plans. It’s been a busy week so I’m happy to chill.”

She sat down on the sofa, pulling down a blanket that at some point Ava had artfully arranged. “Are you happy for me to chill here too?”

“More than. We don’t have to leave the apartment.”

“Don’t say that. It’s amazing—I love it here. If I lived anywhere I could design I’d have it like this. Your shower and the space—it’s perfect.”

I added more coffee beans, intrigued by what else she might tell me about the house where she’d pretty much grown up. “How would you have changed where you lived with your grandfather?”

“That’s a hard question because when I think back to the house it was perfect. It had all of my grandfather’s secrets, all the stories he’d found to tell me. It was old fashioned—the bathrooms and kitchen needed modernising and thinking about it, I’d have more open space, less wall between everyone. But there was this one room, like a snug, I suppose, with an old fireplace and a huge bay window with a willow tree out in front. I’d have that filled with huge bookcases and comfy sofas and throws and rugs. That’s where I’d curl up on a cold day with the fire roaring.” She looked wistful. “It was huge. Seven bedrooms. I hope a family bought it, or someone who wanted a family, with extra bedrooms for extended family to stay over.”

“Do you want kids?”

She laughed. “We’re a bit early for that conversation!” I laughed with her, unsure of what I felt. “But yes, I always imagined having at least a couple of kids so they could have a relationship more like what you have with your siblings than what I have with Francis. I’d like a family, but my plan’s been delayed. In my ideal world, it’d be happening now.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Complete my PhD, get a lecturing position, write articles, books, whatnot. Then meet someone, have a family and take time out from teaching to raise them. I know it’s old fashioned and I’m not exactly conventional, but I was the girl who played with dolls and pushed a pram. I coo over babies and I know it’s not all talcum powder and baby smell, but I’d like to be a bit of stay at home mum. I suppose I want what I didn’t have.”

She looked sad and I figured I brought coffee at the right time, as I took a seat next to her and pulled her legs on to my lap.

“Does it have to be in that order?”

“My grandad talked about working in America and having that adventure. That’s not something you can do with a two-year-old and a baby.”

“It is if you have the right man.”

“You volunteering for that position?”

My coffee sputtered around my mouth and she burst in to hysterical laughter.

“Two nights, Victoria, we’ve spent two nights together. Let’s save the baby conversation for some way down the line.”

She carried on laughing, sprawling over me and the sofa until I picked her up and carried her back to my bedroom.

“You’re not hungover?” I said.

She shook her head. “I’m genetically programmed not to have them. My grandfather drank whisky as part of his medicine.”

I put her on the bed, the daylight streaming through the window, curtains blowing open. “What are you thinking about right now?”

She laughed. “You. You being over me and what you can do. Staying in bed all day. Making you laugh and listening to you talk. Finding out about you.”

I kissed her.

I think it was my first real kiss.