THE REBEL BILLIONAIRE

AN AGE GAP ROMANCE

THE FRAZER FAMILY

BOOK FIVE

ZOE DOD

MILKY DOWN PUBLISHING

Copyright © 2026 by Zoe Dod

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.

The Rebel Billionaire is written in British English

ISBN ebook: 978-1-917413-16-9

ISBN paperback: 978-1-917413-17-6

Editor: Victoria Straw

Cover Design by ChristineCoverDesigns

To everyone, who has joined me on this amazing journey.

Thank you for all your kind words and support. The Rebel is for you.

The Frazer’s have been an enormous part of my life for over three years, and although Harper’s story brings their current adventures to an end… They’re a feisty bunch, so I doubt it will be the last you see of them.

Happy Reading!

Love

Zoe xxx

CHAPTER 1

HARPER

Iblink, my eyes locking on the brown envelope sliding across the table.

Focus, Harper!

I stare at the mouth of the woman opposite me. My thundering heartbeat smothers all other sounds, making it impossible to decipher what she’s saying.

A hand grips my arm. The sensation grounds me, and the sound of the plane rushes back in. I turn my head. Kristophe.

He hands me a bottle of ice-cold water.

“Drink,” he says.

I do as I’m told.

I close my eyes as the frigid liquid forces me into the present.

You’re Harper Brooke Frazer. Get a grip.

Opening them, I sit up straighter and meet the woman’s steely stare. Her piercing gaze seems to sink into my soul.

“Who are you again?” I ask.

“I’m The Seamstress, but who I am doesn’t matter. It’s why I’m here that does.”

She sits back, apparently satisfied that she has my attention.

My eyes meet Kris’s. He doesn’t look fazed.

Does he know her?

Did he know I was going to be ambushed?

I take another long swig of the water and gather my thoughts.

Pen told me I can trust him, and I trust her. She’s like a second sister. Someone who would never hurt Elijah or me. She organised my grand escape and enabled me to make a run for it.

The woman opposite leans forward and taps the envelope.

A memory surfaces.

“You knew my father,” I say.

She ignores me, but her shoulders tense.

“This contains your new identity,” she says. “Open it. Memorise it.”

The woman I remember was younger, but it’s definitely her. I’m good with faces.

I incline my head.

Gone is the glamour. Now she looks like a middle-aged schoolteacher. A strict one. The kind I loved proving myself to.

My stomach churns.

“I don’t understand,” I say, refocusing. “I thought the plan was for me to lie low for a couple of months. Stay with a friend of my mother’s until things calmed down. Are you telling me that’s changed?”

She sighs, the sound surprising me.

“No, the plan remains the same. Only the computer we recovered from Sir Leonard Crawley’s office has revealed further information, so we are employing additional safety measures.”

“What information?”

“I’m not at liberty to share.”

I quirk an eyebrow as I meet her gaze. “Not at liberty to share?” I say, determined to hold firm, despite my skin crawling at the mere mention of the man’s name.

“That’s what I said.”

“But it involves me?”

She stares ahead, as if considering what she can reveal. Her lips tighten.

“All I can tell you is that we believe your life is in danger.”

An icy chill slides down my spine.

She’s not joking.

I drop back in my seat.

“This information you’ve uncovered affects me? My life? But you’re not at liberty to share?”

Crossing my arms over my chest, the compulsion I’ve always had to stand up for myself comes to the forefront. That’s the joy of having four much older siblings who spent my entire childhood trying to tell me what to do.

“Excuse me if I have a problem with that,” I say. “That bastard and his cronies just blew up my life. Are you telling me they had other things planned? Haven’t they fucked with me enough?”

She raises an eyebrow, but I refuse to back down.

Who does she think she is?

She’s boarded Kris’s private plane, delayed take-off, and is now trying to dictate how my life is run.

Forgive me if I have questions!

“This is no longer just about you. The sex tape he released was the tip of the iceberg.”

“Deepfake sex tape,” I correct.

My stomach roils at the memory. It may not have been me. But they used my face and voice.

“And I beg to differ. This is about me. It’s my life he has blown up. You need to give me something.”

Our eyes clash, neither willing to look away. I swear I sense indecision.

“You did know my father,” I say again.

She sits back and nods.

“It’s why I’m here.” Her lips twitch. “You’re clearly as stubborn as he was.”

I lift my chin. “I knew I recognised you. You used to come to his office.”

Her mouth opens and closes. “I’m surprised you remember. You were only five, maybe six.” She inclines her head, pausing for a second. “Fine, but what I’m about to tell you cannot be repeated.”

Her eyes move to Kris, and he nods.

“As I said, you’re not the only one affected, and until we sort this out and have all the perpetrators in custody, your life and the lives of others are at risk.”

I draw a breath. “Are you saying someone wants to kill me?”

She shakes her head, her nose wrinkling. “In some ways, what we’ve uncovered would be worse than death. These men, if you can call them that, run a human trafficking gang. If they get you, I’m not sure even we will be able to find you.”

My blood runs cold at her words. My hand trembles as I take another sip of water.

She continues before I can think too much about her words.

“Remember, Harper, these men are not after money. They want leverage and power. Taking you would give them that, and more.” Our eyes meet. “Tell me, what would your brothers, sister, mother do if someone threatened you?”

I bite my lip, wanting to deny it, but knowing I can’t. She’s right. They’d turn the world upside down to ensure my safety. Over the past few weeks, I’ve watched them tear themselves apart, wanting to protect me but knowing they can’t.

Getting on this plane was supposed to be my escape, a break from the guilt of what I’ve put them through. My impulsivity over the past seven years has finally caught up with me and bitten me on the arse.

“What are you saying?” I ask. “That someone wants to kidnap me? But Crawley is dead.”

“Crawley may be dead, but he was not the one calling the shots. He became a loose cannon. We’re not even sure he knew who was at the top of the pyramid, and the others we’ve arrested aren’t talking. They’re scared.”

A shiver racks my body.

There’s a reason they say ignorance is bliss.

“We’re still going through all the documents and files we uncovered, but we need you on board. If not, I cannot guarantee your safety.”

My hand goes to the envelope.

“And this?” I ask.

“This contains your new identity,” she says calmly. “The moment you land in the United States, Harper Frazer disappears, and Brooke Feldmann, a girl from a tiny village in southern England, is born. You’ll be hiding in plain sight, but will need to blend in. I cannot stress enough how important it is that you tell and trust no one with your real identity.” Her voice hardens. “Only Sophia Bianchi can know the truth, and that is only because your mother contacted her, and she’s expecting you.” She sighs. “If I change that part of the plan, then Francesca will recall you, and we’ll be back to square one.”

“You want me to lie to my mother?”

“No, I want you to do what she’s expecting. Allow Sophia Bianchi to assist you, hide you.” She stares me down. “But make no mistake, Harper. This operation’s success is entirely on you.”

My gaze shifts to Kris, sitting across the aisle.

His eyes meet mine, unwavering and firm.

Sucking in a breath, I pick up the envelope, emptying the contents onto the table. A new passport, driver’s licence, birth certificate, school reports, exam certificates. Shit, they’ve covered everything. There’s even a CV.

“The references are real. If someone calls or writes, they’ll receive either a verbal or written response.”

I glance over the documents. Brooke studied the same subjects as I did—helpful. At least I’m not expected to know facts I haven’t learned. The grades, however, aren’t mine. This is Brooke. Harper Frazer is a straight-A student. Brooke is average at best.

I flick through the passport. It contains several entry and exit stamps. Again, places I’ve travelled to.

“Nothing will flag up. Brooke exists. She’s you,” she says confidently.

“Who are you?”

“I’m a friend, and provided you don’t cross me or put my officers and this investigation at risk⁠—”

“And if I do?”

Her expression hardens, her mouth forming a tight line. “It’s not something I would advise.”

I pick up each item, then place them back into the envelope before holding up one final booklet.

“What’s this?”

“Your life story. Read it, memorise it, and then destroy it before you leave this plane. You have a near-photographic memory. I’m not asking the impossible.”

Fuck, not many people know that.

“Stick to the facts listed when discussing your past, but my recommendation is to keep to yourself as much as you can. It’ll be safer that way.”

I flick through the pages. Family members, friends, schools, places I liked to hang out as a child, clubs I went to in my teens. The names of old boyfriends, my first part-time job, and my full-time job.

Shit, they’ve thought of everything.

I glance up.

Understanding passes over her face.

“I know it’s a lot…”

“Please don’t say you understand or that it won’t be easy.”

“Oh, it won’t. It’s going to be damn near impossible.” Her chin lifts. “You’re intelligent, sociable, not to mention impulsive and reckless. Your influencer platform and your partying days have shone a spotlight on you. I’m asking you to become a nobody, someone people walk past in the street, the wallflower at every party. Brooke Feldmann must become everything Harper Frazer is not.”

Bile burns the back of my throat.

Too much time inside my own head has never been a good thing. Can I go against my natural DNA? My personality?

If I’m not Harper Frazer, what is left for people to be drawn to?

For the safety of my family. I’ll do anything. Never again will I⁠—

I close my eyes and refocus.

“You must delete your social media presence. Brooke Feldmann is not online, and it must remain that way. Photographs and posts can be flagged, searched, and matched through facial recognition. You need to disappear, become untraceable. You’re moving to a city where cameras are on every building and street corner, and in every hallway.”

“So why am I going to New York? Surely⁠—”

“Because hiding in plain sight is the smart thing to do. People won’t expect to see you, so they don’t. When I say your old life is dangerous, traceable, I mean it. Harper Frazer has a target on her back. I’ll not have you put the men I’m assigning to you at risk.”

“Assigning me?”

“A specialist protection unit will be close at hand. You are not to interact with them, but know they’re there, watching, ensuring your safety.”

I open my mouth, but she turns towards the man standing behind her, a man who has stared straight ahead the whole time we’ve been talking.

He glances down and hands her another envelope.

I groan, earning myself a scowl.

She pulls out a document.

“This sets out strict behavioural rules and serves as a memorandum of understanding. It states you agree to adopt Brooke Feldmann’s persona, stay off all social media, and cut ties with everyone previously linked to Harper Frazer. This will remain in place until an as-yet-undisclosed date.”

“Friends and social media, I can do. Family, that’s never going to happen. They’ll worry about me. If I disappear without a trace, they’ll stop at nothing to find me. As you yourself said, Mum is expecting certain things. Contact and regular updates are among them.”

She stops, weighing me up.

“Fine,” she says, pursing her lips. “I take it Penelope gave you a secure phone.”

My jaw drops.

How the hell does she know that?

“There’s no point in denying it,” she says. I get the impression she’s enjoying my discomfort. A power trip.

“I’ll concede,” she says, taking the document and adding a handwritten point before pushing it back towards me. “But there’s to be no contact with anyone outside your direct family, and only on the designated phone Ms Dawson provided. Do I make myself clear?”

I nod.

“Sign here. I need you to understand the severity of everything we’ve discussed.”

“I’m not signing anything,” I say. “Not without my lawyer checking it over first. I’m a Frazer. Not some naïve fool.”

I glance across the aisle at Kris, who has remained silent throughout. Does he know this woman?

“You will, or I will withdraw my offer of protection, and you can take your chances. How long do you think you’ll be in the USA before it’s flagged that your passport was used to enter the country? It shouldn’t, but are you willing to take the risk?”

She doesn’t need to say any more.

Fuck!

I snatch up the paper and take my time reading it. It’s not long or complicated.

It states that I acknowledge the danger I’m in and will implement the safety measures set out. Adopt a new identity, avoid all social media, and not reveal my true identity to anyone aside from Sophia Bianchi. In return, His Majesty’s Government will provide a protection team.

“So, I’m in witness protection? Don’t you think having burly guys following me around will draw its own attention?” I ask, my eyes darting to the guy standing behind her. “No offence.”

He glances down, then looks straight ahead again, his lips twitching.

“You won’t know they’re there. They’ll be living in the apartment opposite,” she says. “You’re to ignore them at all times unless there’s an emergency.”

“And if there’s an emergency?”

She harrumphs.

“In the case of a genuine emergency, you can approach them in their apartment. Otherwise, it’s better that you don’t know what they look like. Glances and acknowledgements will give you and them away. Just know they’re there should you need them.”

I rub my thumb and forefinger over my brow.

“Kris?”

He takes the document and scans it.

“It’s your choice, Harper. I will help you any way I can.”

I’ve only met him twice before today. Pen was his fiancée before she left him for my older brother, Elijah. They appear to be friends, but can I trust him? Pen was adamant that I could.

I’ve always been self-reliant and resourceful, but if what this woman says is true, then I may need all the help I can get.

“I’ll do it,” I say, snatching up the pen she’s placed on the table and signing my name.

She smiles, taking the page and placing it back in the envelope.

“I wish you luck, Brooke. Spend the next few hours learning your new life.” She stands, then looks down, holding my gaze. “I’ll try my best to get you back to your old life as quickly as possible.”

“But until then?” I prompt.

“Keep your head down, and for pity’s sake, stay safe.”

She steps out from behind the table and makes her way to the plane door.

She pauses, and I wonder if she’s going to say anything else, but she doesn’t. Instead, she exits, making her way down the steps.

Seconds later, the plane door slams shut, and the engines roar to life. I stare out the window as she climbs into the back of a vehicle with her henchmen, and it drives off.

Kris moves into the seat opposite as we begin taxiing up the runway.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” Staring at the manila envelope in front of me, I let out a sigh. “Ask me again in seven hours.”

“Can I say something?”

“Certainly,” I say.

“Remember, whatever anyone calls you, you’re still Harper Frazer inside. No one can take that away from you. Pen always said you have the heart of a lion. I can see why. You’re brave and resilient, with one hell of a tenacious spirit. Don’t forget that. Use it.”

“You’re basically saying, when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.” I sigh. “The only problem with that is I hate lemonade.”

Kris chuckles, and I smile as I appreciate what he’s trying to do. I also know he’s right.

“However, I do like lemon drizzle cake, and a gin and tonic with an added slice.”

“There you go.” His smile widens. “Even The Seamstress, whoever she is, said you’re resourceful. You’ve got this, Harper.”

“You’re telling me to make the most of it?”

“I don’t see that you have any choice. The path forward rests with you.” His expression darkens. “Life sucks, and we can’t always see beyond the hurt and pain. What happened to you isn’t fair, but life rarely is. Take it from someone who knows. From where I’m sitting, you’ve got two options. You can either embrace Brooke or reject her. It’s up to you to decide which works best for you.”

I stare at him for a moment.

“Why are you doing this?”

He smiles, his eyes never leaving mine. “Pen was never my destiny.”

“That’s pretty profound for a man who just lost his fiancée to another man.”

I don’t know why I’m pushing him. Maybe it’s to see if he’s genuinely on my side.

“Maybe, but I believe your brother is hers.”

For once, I have no answer.

“Let me ask you this,” he says. “If that’s truly what I believe, am I right or wrong in letting her go?”

“Lemon drizzle cake?” I ask.

“Exactly. I think you’re going to be fine.”

CHAPTER 2

HARPER

Asingle key rests in the palm of my hand. It looks sad, or is that just me projecting?

I draw in a breath and puff out my cheeks, releasing it with a whoosh as I slide the key into the lock and turn. It clicks, the sound loud against the eerie silence of the hallway.

Home-sweet-home.

I glance behind me at the door opposite, the one that supposedly holds my protection squad. Are they watching? Passing judgement? Ready to defend me with their lives, should I require it?

I’ve clearly watched too many spy thrillers.

Turning the handle, I push open my new front door and step inside, surprised by the contrast with the dingy hallway. Natural light floods the space, and the air smells of fresh polish, as though someone has recently cleaned.

Pulling my case behind me, I close the door, flicking the lock into place.

I move into the room, taking in my new surroundings. An open-plan kitchen sits in an alcove off the main living area. It’s small, but neat. Two sash windows overlook the street and the building opposite. The main area contains a table and two chairs, a comfortable-looking sofa, a TV, and a coffee table. It appears to have been newly decorated.

Throwing my bag and jacket onto one of the chairs, I move past the TV and sofa towards a narrow hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom.

Dropping onto the edge of the large double bed, I study the room where I’ll be sleeping for the foreseeable future. A wardrobe unit stands against the interior wall, providing shelving and a small amount of hanging space. I think of the enormous walk-in wardrobe I have at home, full of all my beautiful clothes, shoes, and bags.

Another lifetime.

I bounce slightly, testing the mattress. Firm yet soft.

I stand and turn before smoothing out the dent I’ve made in the covers. Across the hallway is another door. Pushing it open, I step into the bathroom. I flick on the light. A bath with an overhead shower and a clear screen occupies the far wall. The washbasin sits on top of a storage cupboard beside the toilet. The tiles are grey and white. At least it’s clean.

You’ve got this, Harper!

Stepping back into the hallway, I return to the living area and move towards the small bank of cupboards that constitute my new kitchen. Opening each door, I peer inside. Cups, plates, and bowls fill one space. The next is full of tins and packets of various kinds. Soup, beans, tomatoes, including several I semi-recognise. Another contains pots and pans. Time to dust off those rusty cooking skills. I’m sure I can magic something up. I pull open the fridge and stare wide-eyed at the amount of food inside.

“Not creepy at all,” I say, picking up a bottle of my favourite juice.

I move a few things, finding the drawers stocked with a variety of fresh fruit and vegetables.

How many people do they think are living here?

Not that I’m ungrateful, but I’m not sure I can get through all this, and I detest waste.

I snag an apple and close the fridge door before rinsing it and taking a bite. Closing my eyes, I imagine myself back in Mum’s kitchen. The sharp, fresh taste explodes on my tongue. I open my eyes and back away, sinking onto the sofa, as the truth settles over me. My heart races as I take in the compact, functional living space and think of The Seamstress and her dictate.

Welcome to my new reality. This isn’t a week-long holiday. It’s home, at least until they can unravel the shitshow that has become my life. I close my eyes and swallow against the tight ache in my throat.

Fuck!

After I finish the apple, I throw the core into the bin before moving to the door and checking the peephole. There were cameras in the hallway. I shielded my face from their view on my way up. Not that anyone would expect to find me here. Harper Frazer has always frequented the best hotels and attended the most exclusive parties. But isn’t that the point?

Hiding in plain sight.

There’s no movement at the doorway opposite. Are they even in there?

I spin around. Are they watching me? Do they have cameras inside the apartment?

Scanning my surroundings, I inspect the few accent pieces that have been clearly added for decoration, turning each one over in my hands. I pull over a chair and check the lights and the air-conditioning unit. Nothing seems amiss, but then, I don’t really know what to check for. It’s been years since Elijah went over this stuff, and I’m sure technology has changed.

Only after I’ve gone over every inch of the place do I finally sit down and open my bag, pulling out the phone Pen gave me. How did The Seamstress know about it? At least she didn’t confiscate it.

I fire off a message on the family chat Pen set up before I left.

ME:

I’ve arrived.

I snap a couple of photos out of habit, then delete them the moment I remember her warning. Incognito Harper. I close my eyes and exhale. Besides, what are they going to say? Looks lovely, Harps.

Even the apartment Caleb built for April in the rafters of her dance studio is bigger than this.

No one replies. Shit, it’s the middle of the night.

My eyes sting as a thickness builds in my throat. I swallow down the tears that once again threaten.

“Don’t you dare!” I say, giving myself a mental shake before sliding the phone into the inside pocket of my bag, zipping it away.

Self-pity holds no utility, isn’t that what they say?

I wheel my suitcase into the bedroom and hoist it onto the bed. No luggage rack here. Unpacking doesn’t take long. I sort through my clothes, setting most aside as unsuitable for my new life. Designer clothes from Prada, Gucci, Dior, and St Clair do not fit the image of a small-town nobody from a little-known place in England. Harper Frazer doesn’t live here, Brooke Feldmann does.

Grabbing the manila envelope, I tip the contents onto the bed, locking my passport and driver’s licence in the small safe attached to the wall. I place my certificates and CV back inside.

The booklet lies on the bed and stares accusingly at me. I’ve memorised it. The Seamstress wasn’t wrong when she said I have a photographic memory, but I refused to leave it behind. Too many what-ifs. It’s not like I could burn it on the plane, and if I tore it up, what if someone put the ripped pieces back together?

Guilt pulses through me, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere. I’m stuck here. The thought of all the cameras, people, and press means I’m trapped inside.

What if someone recognises me? What if my security detail is too far away and can’t get to me in time? What happens then?

The hairs on my nape and arms rise, and my muscles tense. A fate worse than death. Isn’t that what she said?

I press a fist to my chest and try to slow my thundering heart. I close my eyes as a wave of dizziness overtakes me.

Unzipping my bag, I recheck my phone. Still nothing.

I wrap my arms around my waist and lean against the wall beside the bedroom window, watching the street below and all the people with places to go and families to return to. I turn away as the ache in my chest intensifies. After years of fighting for my independence, I want nothing more than to be at home playing Monopoly with my family.

I bite my lip, stilling the growing tremor.

Fuck!

My phone rings.

I sway, my knees going weak.

I glance down at the display. Unknown number.

My stomach drops.

I accept the call and draw a breath.

“Hello?” I say quietly.

“Harper?”

I pause.

“I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number. Er, who is this?”

I close my eyes, my stomach tightening, the sound of my name on someone’s lips jarring.

“Sorry, this is Sophia Bianchi.”

Mum’s friend. The thought is surprisingly soothing. I exhale slowly, calming my racing heart.

“Mrs Bianchi,” I say. “This is Brooke. Brooke Feldmann.”

“Of course, Brooke,” she repeats. There’s a brief pause. “Please, call me Sophia. Mrs Bianchi reminds me of when I was CEO.”

“Sophia,” I repeat.

“How are you settling in?” she asks.

“I’m fine,” I say, grimacing.

“I was calling to invite you to visit me tomorrow at my home. It will be good for us to meet face-to-face.”

I allow some of the tension to drain from my shoulders.

“I’d like that,” I say.

Seeing and talking to another human being, someone who knows the real me, will be liberating.

“Good. Ten-thirty?” she asks.

“I’ll be there.”

“No need. I’ll send my driver. I live outside New York City. It will be easier that way.”

“Thank you. I look forward to it,” I say truthfully.

“See you then.”

I drop back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling.

The silence closes in louder than before.

CHAPTER 3

HARPER

Benjamin, Sophia’s driver, holds open the door, allowing me to step out.

I look up at the sprawling house, with the river visible behind it.

It’s been many years since I visited the area outside New York City. Mum and Dad sometimes hired a house here in Fairfield County when Dad’s work trips stretched over the holidays, and the family suite at the hotel was too small to accommodate five growing children.

The front door opens as I approach.

An older woman steps out, her clothes and sleek silver bob immaculate. Sophia Bianchi.

After our call, I spent the evening researching the woman my mother has sent me to. She is an icon. A powerful, stylish, and well-respected businesswoman who, during her time as CEO of the St Clair fashion house, revitalised her father’s declining luxury brand by restoring its prestige and broadening its international appeal. For thirty years, she took the brand from strength to strength, until five years ago, when she handed the reins to her eldest son, Alessandro. It appears he, like his mother, is a powerhouse. Industrious, ambitious and one hell of a designer in his own right. Under his guidance, St Clair has continued to thrive.

“Brooke,” she says. “Welcome to Riverside.” Her eyes meet mine before travelling down my body and taking in my appearance. “Why don’t you come in?”

Lifting a hand to my wig, I smooth down any wayward strands.

I shoot her a glance and meet an assessing gaze.

“Mrs Bianchi. Thank you for inviting me to your beautiful home.”

Stepping forward, I hold out my hand. I might no longer be Harper, but manners were ingrained in me from the time I could walk and talk.

“Sophia, please,” she says, taking my hand in a firm grip.

She turns, and I follow her inside. We walk through a light and airy entrance towards the back of the house, where I’m faced with floor-to-ceiling windows, offering spectacular views of the cove beyond. Drawn by the view, I move closer, captivated by the backdrop.

Sophia stands beside me.

“It’s quite something, isn’t it?”

“That’s an understatement. Frazer Manor overlooks green fields and woodland. It’s beautiful, but the blue sky and crystal-clear water are something else.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as soon as the words leave my mouth.

Fuck, this is going to be impossible.

Sophia tuts before squeezing my shoulder.

“Don’t worry. We’ll work on it together,” she says.

I turn to face her, her expression serious.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m a hard taskmaster, Brooke. Have no doubt. I’ll not have you bring my family into disrepute. You’ll need to get your story straight. I owe your mother a favour, but I won’t accept any blowback on my own family.”

“Understood,” I say.

She motions for me to sit on a nearby sofa, before studying me again.

“First things first, the wig must go. You haven’t done a bad job of your makeup. The shading has altered your face shape, but your eyes…”

My eyes? Fuck… my contacts.

“I have contacts… I…”

She tuts again, and my heart sinks. I open my mouth to apologise, but she holds up a hand, before picking up her phone.

“Harvey, darling… yes… I have a friend in need of a makeover.” Sophia holds my gaze. “Yes, terrible breakup.” She winks at me. “Needs a new look…” Another pause. “Perfect. See you in the morning.”

She disconnects the call and places her phone on the table.

“Tomorrow morning. Ten a.m. Harvey has been my stylist since I arrived in the States, thirty years ago. He’s completely trustworthy. Believe me, the things that man has seen and heard, he could write a bestseller, but he’s watertight.”

An empty feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.

I hope she’s right.

“Don’t look so worried. He’s also a genius. Your current disguise might have worked in getting you out of the country, but you need to be able to live. If you’re going to be employed at St Clair, the wig needs to go. You can’t be fiddling with it all day. That alone will draw attention.”

My hand drops back into my lap, and I tilt my head, unsure whether I heard her correctly.

“Work at St Clair?”

“Of course, what else are you going to do with your time?”

“I haven’t really given it much thought. I just⁠—”

For the first time in my life, I’m rudderless. Since the sex-tape scandal, I seem to have drifted from one day to the next. I’ve had no time to stop, think or digest what has happened. Even last night, after I researched Sophia, I sat alone, staring at the door, listening to the sounds of the city outside, and for anything that might mean they’d found me. What has my life become?

She leans forward and pats my hand. “A job at St Clair, even if it’s mundane, will allow you to escape the confines of your apartment. Security is tight at HQ. Corporate espionage is real in our industry, especially with the St Clair profile.”

“Cheap knockoffs?” I say.

She laughs and shakes her head. “It’s not the cheap knockoffs that bother us. It’s our designs being stolen and sold to our competitors who pass them off as their own. You’ll be safe there, especially once we’ve refined your story.”

“Thank you, it’s very kind, but what if someone recognises me? It’s not like my face hasn’t been plastered all over the press. Harper Frazer’s sex scandal was not small news at home.”

I want to be as truthful as I can, since Sophia is putting her neck on the line for me.

“Let me worry about that. Once Harvey’s finished with you, even your mother will walk past you in the street.” I go to open my mouth, but she holds up her hand. “Don’t thank me yet. I expect a lot if I’m going to help you.”

“This is the part where I say I won’t let you down.”

“Good.” She nods in my direction. “Sandro, my eldest, now runs the company. We’ll visit him on Monday, before I take you to see human resources. My endorsement will be enough for them to find you a position. I take it all your references are in order?”

“They are,” I say, with a confidence I’m not sure I feel.

I can only rely on what The Seamstress promised.

“What will Sandro think?” I ask, surprised when she chuckles.

“Oh, he’ll hate it,” she says, her tone gleeful, making me wonder what I’ve stepped into. “But he’ll survive. It’s not like you’ll have anything to do with him.”

She purses her lips before smiling. “And to you he’s Alessandro. Sandro is my pet name for him,” she admits.

“Good to know,” I say, realising she’s probably saved me from making a grave mistake.

“But before then, we will need to refine your story. My son will be suspicious. He likes to think he knows everything about everything. You, a stranger, appearing out of nowhere, will pique his interest, and he’s meticulous in his attention to detail.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry, he’s my son. He will not defy me, but I cannot allow for any slip-ups. Your, or should I say, our, story must be tight. He’ll pick up on any inconsistencies.”

Unsure what else to say, I nod. I’m not sure I’m ready to meet Alessandro Bianchi. At least not before I’ve had a chance to focus on becoming Brooke. The last thing I need is another person studying me.

I don’t point it out to her. She is, after all, the only person in here I can safely approach. Her ties to my mother are untraceable, from what I could glean. Their friendship stems from a time before Mum’s life with Dad.

Luckily for me, I only have a few acquaintances who live in and around New York, and, no reason to cross paths with them. I certainly won’t be frequenting their usual places, or going out much at all, if I follow The Seamstress’s instructions. I’m small-town Brooke, not fast-living Harper.

My stomach lurches when I think of Mum, my brothers and sister, their families. Yes, we all live separate lives, but we always have each other’s backs. Here I am, all alone, placing my trust and life in the hands of a woman I’ve only just met. Trust has never come easily to me, but now I have to offer it freely.

Well, Harper, you’ve brought this on yourself. After years of rebelling, it’s time to toe the line.

I turn when I realise Sophia is talking to me.

“Let’s get started,” she says, sitting back. “Tell me about yourself.”

Leaning forward, I run my palms down my trousers before beginning to recite Brooke’s life story.

CHAPTER 4

HARPER

Iexit my building and move past my neighbours, who are standing and staring at the shiny Bentley.

Could it be any more conspicuous?

But who am I to argue? Sophia is the only person who knows my real identity. She’s sent her driver to pick me up, so I don’t have to use the subway or take a taxi, both of which risk exposing me.

“Ms Feldmann,” he says, holding open the door. “Lovely to see you again. Mrs Bianchi is waiting for you.”

“Good morning, Benjamin, thank you,” I say, climbing in and breathing a sigh of relief as the door closes, concealing me behind darkened windows.

I sit back and watch the city go by. Everything is larger, wider, more imposing. My phone pings. A message from Caleb.

CALEB:

Hey, how’s it going? Are you all settled in?

I spoke to both Mum and Kat this morning, which helped to ease some of the numbness in my chest.

ME:

All good. Meeting Sophia this morning.

CALEB:

Glad you have someone there. Let me know if there’s anything we can do. April sends her love.

ME:

I’ll be okay. Just getting settled. Love you guys.

CALEB:

We love you too. Take care and remember we are here for you.

I wonder how much they know. Are they aware that The Seamstress came to see me? No one has said anything, so I’ve kept it to myself. The last thing I need is Mum going into a full-blown panic and demanding I come home.

Before I know it, Benjamin pulls through the gates of Sophia’s home.

“Good morning, Brooke,” Sophia says, greeting me at the front door. “Follow me, and I’ll introduce you to Harvey.”

She leads me through the house to a room where a man in his fifties is waiting.

“Harvey, let me introduce you to your new project, Brooke.” She turns and smiles at me. “Brooke, this is Harvey.”

“Lovely to meet you, Brooke,” he says, stepping forward, reaching for my blond wig. He tuts, reminding me of Sophia the day before. It’s not like the wig is cheap. It’s real human hair.

“No, no, this won’t do,” he says. “Completely the wrong colour for such beautiful skin.”

I can’t say I disagree. The platinum blond is garish against my olive skin. Even with makeup, it still looks out of place. That alone draws attention.

He lifts it from my head and removes the netting holding my natural hair in place.

He taps his finger against his lips and looks at Sophia.

She shakes her head.

“No,” she says, more sharply than I think she intends. “The natural can’t stay.”

I cringe, although I’m not sure why. I’ve dyed my hair every colour of the rainbow over the past few years, but since returning to my natural colour, I’ve felt more myself, less like I’m wearing a mask. But who am I kidding? I’m going to be wearing a far bigger mask for the foreseeable future. Brooke is not who I am, just who I must be until this nightmare ends.

Harvey turns me around, removing the pins holding up my hair. It cascades down my back to my waist. He runs his fingers through my hair several times, picking it up, before letting it fall.

“Burgundy,” he says, spinning me back to face him. He grips my chin, tilting my head. “Yes, perfect.”

I glance over at Sophia, who’s smiling broadly. “I told you,” she says, although I’m not sure which of us, she’s talking to. “Harvey, I’ve set you up in the guest room.”

He claps his hands and I jump.

“To new beginnings. When I’ve finished with you, beautiful girl, all the men you meet will be falling over themselves.”

I smile, although I’m sure it’s more of a grimace.

My heart pounds, and I shoot Sophia a panicked look. I’ve never shied away from publicity or the spotlight. I’ve always been bold and outgoing, but right now, I’m supposed to be incognito, not turning myself into a man magnet.

“Um…”

Sophia holds up a hand and shakes her head. “Harvey’s right. Your beauty will look strange if it’s dampened. You need to own the change but curb your actions.”

I take it she means I need to stop talking, trust them, and go with the flow.

“Come,” Harvey says, making a sweeping gesture with his arm.

So, the transformation begins.

* * *

I stare wide-eyed at my reflection.

My throat constricts.

I will not cry!

I reach up and touch what can only be described as a masterpiece, although my heart breaks at the long strands of hair strewn across Sophia’s floor. Whatever I’ve done in the past, I’ve always retained its length.

Now, the beautifully shaped long bob barely grazes my collarbone. Its rich, warm burgundy tones glow a deep-red purple in the sunlight streaming through the window.

This is the shortest it’s been since I had head lice at five years old.

Sophia enters.

“Oh, Brooke, it’s perfect,” she says, her hands resting on my shoulders, her gaze locking on mine in the mirror.

The green of my contact lenses, the ones I remembered to put in this morning, fit the look perfectly. She’s correct. Even I’m struggling to recognise myself.

“The man who walked away will be begging you to take him back. Don’t you agree, Sophia?” Harvey says, smiling widely at me in the mirror.

“Harvey, you’ve done an amazing job, as always,” she says, her hands squeezing gently.

I don’t speak. Instead, I offer the brightest smile I can muster, not trusting my voice in case it cracks and gives the game away.

It’s true, he has done an amazing job. It’s just looking at my reflection, I mourn the old me. The one who was finally getting her act together.

I give myself a mental shake.

She’s gone.

At least for now.

Tonight, when I enter the apartment, I won’t be able to let my hair down and remind myself I’m still me. Not a mirage.

The tightness in my chest increases, and I stand.

“Excuse me,” I say, disappearing into the en-suite.

Shutting the door, I grip the marble vanity unit between the twin sinks and drop my head forward. I squeeze my eyes closed and count to ten, then twenty, continuing to thirty, concentrating on each breath.

I tighten my grip once more before pushing away and straightening. Shoulders back, I stare myself down in the mirror. It’s not like Harvey has turned me into an ugly sister. In fact, he’s done quite the opposite. He’s turned me into fucking Cinderella, the one all spruced up and about to go to the ball.

“Brooke,” I say.

“Brooke,” I say repeating the name over and over.

I turn on the tap and place my wrist beneath the icy flow, cooling my panic.

There’s a knock on the door. “Brooke? Is everything okay?”

Sophia’s voice breaks the silence, and I switch off the tap.

“One minute,” I say, dabbing a tissue under my eyes to remove the makeup smudges.

“Harvey’s gone,” she says. “Elaine has made us some lunch. I’ll see you downstairs when you’re ready.”

I hear her retreat.

“You’ve got this,” I say, staring at my reflection.

I squeeze my eyes shut before blinking back the tears still threatening to escape.

Shit, there’s no time for tears. You need to suck it up, buttercup.

Turning away, I head back into the bedroom and straight out. Not wanting to watch the staff who are now sweeping what was once my pride and joy into rubbish bags.

I return to the main area.

“There you are,” Sophia says, motioning for me to take a seat on one of her white leather sofas.

“Thank you,” I say, wanting her to understand that, beneath the grief, I am grateful. “For everything.”

“I understand this is difficult, but hair can regrow, colour can be restored.”

I swallow hard at her words. I know what she’s saying is true, but watching my identity stripped away is more painful than I anticipated.

“Now you’ve been transformed, we need to look at next steps.” I stare at her as she smiles. “It’s not hard to see, you’re a confident, intelligent, outgoing young woman.”

Somehow, I’m not convinced she intends her words as a compliment.

“Now, you need to become less. Forget what it was like to be raised in money, attend the best schools. Now you’re average. You must follow the rules and take orders without complaint. Remember, trust no one and keep a low profile. Be polite, but distant. Don’t over share.”

I close my eyes. I know what she’s saying makes sense. Brooke would not sound like she comes from the Chelsea set. She’s a young woman from a normal home. She didn’t attend a private boarding school or hang out in private members’ clubs. She’s gone to the local pub, eaten in chain restaurants, and partied with friends at local discos in her hometown.

My new life suddenly feels alien. Adrenaline shoots through me, sending my pulse racing.

“And you need to stop pulling on your necklace.”

Her gaze drops to my neck, and my hand goes instinctively to my chain and pendant. I’ve worn it since my twenty-first birthday, when Mum gave it to me. Kat wears an almost identical one, but mine contains a ruby, my birthstone. It’s precious because although Dad was not alive to give it to me, I know he chose it, just like he chose Kat’s and the watches for my brothers.

Sophia holds out her hand. “I’ll keep it in my safe.”

I shake my head, but she’s insistent. “There’s no point in going to all this trouble to be tripped up over a piece of jewellery.”

Nausea hits. Bile burns the back of my throat, as I open the clasp and lower it. I blink rapidly against the sting of unshed tears, as I place it into Sophia’s outstretched palm.

It’s safe. It’s only for a short while.

She says nothing, simply gets up and disappears, leaving me sitting, staring out over the water. I swipe at my cheek, my fingers coming away damp.

She returns five minutes later, holding a St Clair pendant on a chain.

“Here,” she says. “I know it’s not as beautiful as yours, but it’s part of last season’s main collection, meaning no one will question you wearing it.”

She dangles the pendant from her fingers, pulling me out of my trance.

“It’s safer to take this than try to purchase a new one. I’ll keep yours in my safe. When all this is over, you can have it back.”

“I—” The words stick. Before I can say anything, she takes my hand, turns it over and drops the chain into my palm.

My fingers automatically close around it.

“Now that’s done, it’s time to work on getting your facts straight. You can’t risk any slip-ups. A mistake or hesitant pause will draw attention faster than anything. No one must have a reason to question anything you tell them.”

She moves to the sofa opposite me. “Let’s begin. Name?”

“Brooke Anne Feldmann.”

“Address?”

And so, it begins.

CHAPTER 5

ALEX

“Come in.”

The door opens, and Callie enters looking pale.

I set aside the document I’m studying.

“How did it go?”

She moves further into the room, settling herself into the chair opposite me.

“Good. Baby is growing well,” she says.

I wait, sensing a but.

“Apparently, I have gestational diabetes,” she says in a rush.

I sit back, offering her my full attention.

“The blurred vision and fatigue?”

“All part of the condition,” she says, her mouth twisting in distaste. Until recently, her pregnancy has been plain sailing. Minimal morning sickness, limited fatigue, then, over the past couple of weeks, she’s developed a host of symptoms that have knocked this usually unstoppable woman sideways.

“What have they recommended?”

“I’m going to be monitored more closely. I’ll need to tweak my diet and exercise regularly,” Callie says, a tiny smile playing around her lips, as her hand rests on the swell of her stomach. “Looks like the guilt-free chocolate plan fell through.”

Her husband, David, is one of my best friends. I’ve had a front-row seat to their struggles to conceive, as well as the joy when they first discovered she was pregnant.

“And the fatigue?”

She looks up, the dark circles beneath her eyes particularly prominent today.

“It’s linked to my body not processing sugar the way it should.” She sighs. “Apparently, this little monkey getting me up multiple times in the night is also linked. Hopefully, that will change once I’ve got my blood sugars back under control.”

“How’s David?”

“He hasn’t called you yet?”

I chuckle. “He knows better than that.”

Her lips twitch. She does not tolerate him interfering, and David knows that.

“He’s concerned. Would prefer I sit at home with my feet up for the next fourteen weeks.”

“What about you?” I ask.

Callie has worked for me since I became CEO five years ago. She’s my right hand, and the rock behind everything I do. Managing my calendar and communications, my travel arrangements and itinerary. She handles stakeholders, department heads and their teams like a pro, and brings extensive industry knowledge and executive support. Since the day I took over from my mother, I’ve never once questioned her capabilities. She understands the high standards I hold myself to and has met them at every turn. She always has my back.

“I want… shit, I don’t know what I want,” she says, rubbing a hand over her mouth. “I need to do what’s best for the baby.”

“And yourself,” I remind her. “What has the doctor recommended?”

“The doctor has said… He feels⁠—”

My heart sinks as she avoids my gaze.

“Callie. Honesty. This is me you’re talking to. Friend, not boss,” I say.

She sinks back, her rounded baby bump visible between us.

“He feels I should reduce my hours and take a break until I can get everything stable. The commute and the hours are probably making my symptoms worse.” Her jaw clenches. “But Alex, I’m not about to leave you without a PA.”

“If the doctor says you need to slow down, then you slow down. We’ll just have to bring forward our plans to find your replacement,” I say calmly, despite the acid burning my stomach. “It’s not like we weren’t expecting this.”

“Yes, but not yet,” she says. “It was something for the future.”

“Near future,” I remind her. “At twenty-six weeks pregnant, we’re only bringing the inevitable forward by a month, two at the most. It’s not like you can come into work with a newborn strapped to your chest.”

“But,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s too soon. I’ll be bored at home.”

“No buts. How about a compromise? What if we get someone in? You can help train them, work fewer hours, supervise while putting your feet up.”

She wrinkles her nose and squints.

“Best of both worlds,” I force out, hiding my dread at the thought of her leaving.

It’s something I’ve pushed to the back of my mind since the day she told me they were expecting a baby.

But this isn’t about me. This is Callie, so I’ll keep smiling.

I know she won’t leave until I’ve found a replacement. Callie is my gatekeeper, as she was my mother’s before me. For the past nine years, she has flawlessly managed the blend of high-level business, creative and personal responsibilities required in this fast-paced environment. She knows when to step in and when discretion is required. She’s the softness to my hard edges. David has called her my office wife since before they became a couple. But she isn’t my wife. She’s simply the most efficient person who has ever worked for me, someone who understands my values and needs without me asking.

Callie pulls a face, but the tension easing from her shoulders is impossible to miss.

“But Alex, last time…”

“Last time, you were ill,” I say, grimacing at the memory. “I mean it. If you really want to, you can help train your replacement and even be involved in the interviews.” She inclines her head, considering it. I’ve got her. “Who better to select your successor than the person who knows exactly what this position entails?”

I force my jaw to relax. This is not about me. My selfishness and workaholic tendencies destroyed my marriage. I’m not going to make that mistake again.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I hate to let you down.”

“You’re not letting me down,” I say truthfully. “Call some of the agencies, give them your job spec, and get them to send their best candidates. I can begin interviewing on Monday if you free up some time in my schedule.”

Callie pushes herself to her feet. “I’ll get on it right away.” She moves towards the door. “Thank you, Alex,” she says, glancing back before leaving the room.

I slump back in my chair, running a hand through my hair as the door clicks shut.

Fuck! I knew this was coming.

This is about Callie. I’ve watched her struggle over the past few weeks, too bloody conscientious for her own good.

But I hate change, especially when it threatens my efficiency.

I sigh and return to the document I’ve been reviewing all morning. After a minute, I toss it to one side.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I run a hand down my face.

Options.

I could ask a secretary from another department to help, though that arrangement proved disastrous last time. PA services weren’t the only thing I was offered. That kind of attention is something I neither want nor need in my work environment. I need someone to come in and do their job, not flirt for my attention.

My phone pings.

DANTE:

Reminder: Drinks tonight.

LEO:

I’m in.

ORLANDO:

Need a drink after the week I’ve had.

DANTE:

Alex? David?

ME:

I’ll be there.

DAVID:

Sorry, guys. Not tonight.

LEO:

Ah, the joys of having a pregnant wife.

DAVID:

You’re just jealous.

LEO:

100%

ME:

Get back to work! Some of us have things to do.

ORLANDO:

Yes, Dad.

I smile, tossing my phone into the drawer and returning to the discarded document, forcing myself not to think of what’s to come.

CHAPTER 6

ALEX

Imake my way across the restaurant to where my friends are gathered. Part of me wants to call this evening off, but going home and dwelling on the shitshow my life is about to become is not overly productive.

“Here he is,” Dante says, standing up and slapping me on the back as I move to the free seat next to him. “Bad day at the office, I hear?”

“Fuck off,” I say, although there’s not much sting in my words.

Callie had obviously called David after our conversation, and he had then relayed the whole thing to our group chat.

“The man needs a drink,” Dante says, motioning to our waitress, Trina.

She nods and heads towards the bar.

“So, Callie’s finally leaving you,” Orlando says, his lips twitching.

“Haha,” I say, picking up the glass of Scotch Trina has placed in front of me, enjoying the burn as it hits my throat.

“David not coming? Scared to face you?” Leo asks, waggling his eyebrows.

“Always the comedian,” I say, shaking my head. “I saw him when he came to collect Callie. It’s why I’m late.”

“I take it you have interviews set?” Orlando asks.

“Does everyone know my business? You guys are worse than a bunch of old, gossipy women.”

“Well, it beats listening to Orlando bitch and moan about Kirsten. That poor woman can’t seem to do anything right,” Leo says.

“That’s because the woman is completely incompetent,” Orlando says.

“She cleans your house,” Leo says. “You should be thanking her.”

“Thanking her? The woman doesn’t know one end of a duster from the other.”

“So, fire her?” Dante chips in.

Orlando drops his chin. “I can’t. I promised my mother and hers.”

The others laugh. Orlando’s mother is a force of nature, and Kirsten is the daughter of an old friend.

“How about you, Leo? Have things improved with Sadie?” I ask, earning a grateful look from Orlando.

“Still threatening to leave,” he says. “Not sure if it would be a blessing or a tragedy. Let me know how your interviews go on Monday, and I’ll decide.”

Sadie is Leo’s PA, and they butt heads from time to time. She’s also his ex-sister-in-law.

“Dante, you got anything to add?” I ask.

“Nope, my life is pretty uneventful alongside you clowns,” he says.

It hasn’t always been that way. Like David, he was in a long-term relationship until his girlfriend left him.

“What are you going to do?” Dante asks, turning to me.

“Bet you’re cursing the day you introduced them,” Orlando says.

“That’s one thing I can’t regret,” I say, earning a sarcastic chorus of Awws from the others.

My friends are important to me. All of them, even when they’re being dicks. I’d do anything for these guys. They’re family. We met at boarding school in England and had each other’s backs when our families were too far away, or simply didn’t give a shit. They were there for me during my divorce, picking me up, and helping me through it.

When Callie and David met, he’d been struggling. She pulled him out of a dark place.

It was love at first sight, at least for him. She gave him shit because his reputation preceded him. I smile at the memory.

“What will be, will be,” I say, downplaying my apprehension.

Am I concerned? Hell yes. My logical, strategic mind is floundering, because it can’t predict what’s coming.

I rub my forehead. I need to be patient. Trust the process.

Callie doesn’t put up with any of my shit either. But it works because she’s not constantly trying to change me. She has a way of knowing what I need, even before I do. She runs interference when it’s needed and handles our very important clients-VICs-with class. No one and nothing gets past her.

Double fuck!

When did I become so reliant on one person? When did I relinquish that much control?

In the office, I’m meticulous, disciplined, and industrious. There’s no room for error when you run one of the world’s top luxury brands. It’s true, I like to run a tight ship. But at nearly forty, I’m too old to apologise or change who I am.

Callie leaving could be a disaster. If my system breaks, my world is likely to come crashing down, taking everything, I’ve worked so hard to build with it. The number of plates I’m spinning is ridiculous.

“Let’s get drunk,” Orlando says. “It’s the weekend.”

Dante sticks up his hand and calls over our waitress, ordering another round of drinks.

My phone pings, and I pull it out. Shit, it’s gone nine.

Callie has sent over her shortlist of interviewees for Monday.

I fire off a quick message.

ME:

Thank you, but you should be putting your feet up.

CALLIE:

I am, I promise. David is even giving me a foot massage.

ME:

TMI. I don’t need to know my best friend’s kinks.

CALLIE:

Transparency. Letting you know he knows what I’m up to.

Any questions on the list, let me know.

I’ve freed up your schedule for Monday morning. And Alex, I refuse to leave until we find the right replacement.

No pressure! Sadly, that’s never going to happen, but I don’t tell her that.

ME:

Thank you. Now rest! I’ll take a look and see you on Monday.

I stand up, throwing some money on the table.

“Calling it a night already?” Dante asks.

“I need to go. Callie just sent over the list of applicants for me to check. I have interviews to prepare for.”

“Probably best done without a hangover,” Leo says. “Enjoy, and remember, they’re only human,” he adds, making me grimace.

“I’m not that bad,” I say, causing my best friends to slap the table and laugh.

“Keep telling yourself that when you’re growling at them on Monday morning,” Dante says.

“I’m not sure why I expected any sympathy from you.”

“Oh, you have our sympathy,” Orlando says, chuckling. “Actually, scrub that. The poor individuals you’ll be interviewing have it. Want to meet for drinks on Monday evening? Drown your sorrows?”

“He may need it,” Dante says. “Keep your calendars free, gents.”

I roll my eyes.

“Good luck,” they chime after me. “Don’t work too late.”

I throw a hand in the air in acknowledgement, their laughter following me to the door.

Maybe they’re right. Am I looking at this all wrong? Do I need to lower my expectations? Maybe it’s about finding the right fit. Can Callie help me with that?

I hail a cab, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. Settling into the backseat, I pull up one of the CVs from Callie’s list. I groan almost immediately, knowing Monday is going to be a nightmare.

ME:

Can you interview the candidates first? See who you feel has potential?

CALLIE:

Thought you’d never ask.

Stop worrying, we’ve got this. By the time I’ve handed over, you won’t even know I’ve gone.

Somehow, I find that almost impossible to believe.

CHAPTER 7

HARPER

Sophia is in the back of the car when I exit my apartment building. Benjamin stands waiting beside the door.

“Good afternoon, Benjamin,” I say.

“Afternoon, Ms Feldmann,” he says, waiting for me to take a seat before shutting me inside.

“Afternoon, Sophia,” I say, taking in her immaculate hair, make-up, and clothing.

She gives me the once-over and smiles.

“How was your weekend?” she asks.

“It was fine,” I say, not wanting to tell her it was lonely, that I stayed in the whole time, too scared to venture out in case someone recognised me. “I organised my belongings.”

A task that took me all of five minutes.

She smiles and nods.

What she doesn’t realise is that I wasn’t able to bring any personal belongings. No family photographs or mementoes. Nothing that could connect me to Harper Frazer.

So, I spent the weekend alone, in a tiny apartment, with far too much time inside my own head, which is never a good thing.

Out of habit, my hand goes to the pendant around my neck. I drop it instantly, its weight and feel are wrong. The familiar comfort missing, locked away in Sophia’s safe.

“The plan for this afternoon,” she says, as if sensing my need to change the subject. “When we get to the office, we’ll stop on the twentieth floor and visit Sandro. Let him know we’re in the building. After we’ve seen him, we’ll visit Human Resources, where you can hand over your documentation. They’ll be able to place you in one of the departments. Give you something to do instead of sitting around your apartment all day,” she says.

I force a smile. “Thank you, that sounds great. Is there anything I should know in advance?”

Sophia looks over at me. “Remember everything we’ve discussed. Sandro is direct and highly driven. He takes his position as CEO very seriously.”

“He sounds like…”

Sophia shoots me a look, and I stop mid-sentence.

My siblings. Elijah, Caleb, Gabriel and Kat. They’re all driven individuals.

“He also values honesty. Do not let me down.”

Shit, she’s lying to her son on my behalf.

“I won’t,” I say, praying I don’t slip up.

Maybe if I just keep my head down and my mouth shut, we can all get through this unscathed.

Benjamin pulls into the parking garage under one of the many skyscrapers. The building is quite something, and St Clair headquarters occupies ten secure floors.

“We moved to these offices seven years ago,” Sophia tells me as we exit the elevator and enter reception.

“Mrs Bianchi. It’s lovely to see you,” the receptionist says, getting to her feet.

“Afternoon, Lucia,” she returns, stepping up to the desk. “This is Brooke Feldmann. Can you sign her in? We’re going up to visit my son, and then for an interview with HR.”

“Of course, Mrs Bianchi.” She returns to her seat and taps on her keyboard. “Look into the camera, please,” she says to me, tapping the tiny device on the desk in front of her.

My gaze shoots to Sophia, who nods.

On your own head be it.

The woman behind the desk looks over and smiles. I hold my breath, my heart hammering in my chest, waiting for a hint of recognition. When none comes, I tilt my lips, allowing a small smile. This is the first time I’ve been in an open, busy space since the story of the sex tape hit the press.

I wipe my palms on my trousers before taking the lanyard she’s pushed across the desk and sliding it over my head.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Enjoy your visit and good luck with the interview,” she says with a smile. “You both have a good day.”

Sophia turns, and we head back towards the large bank of elevators. I follow her inside, and we wait for the doors to close.

“Breathe,” she says, her eyes steely.

I’m beginning to wonder if I should offer to leave.

Before I get a chance, the doors open, and we step out.

“This way,” Sophia says, marching forward.

I drop my head, letting my hair cover the sides of my face.

Sophia stops and turns. “For goodness’ sake, head up. Walk with confidence. You look like you’ve got something to hide.”

Easy for you to say, I have… me!

I hold my tongue, reminding myself she’s only trying to help me, and I must admit, I did a double take this morning when I looked in the mirror. My hair is striking, but nothing like it was before, and once my make-up was done, I almost didn’t recognise myself.

I lift my chin and square my shoulders, inhaling deeply.

“This floor is where all the directors reside. The other nine floors contain the creative and product development teams, production and supply, merchandising, marketing and PR, e-commerce and retail operations, as well as HR. There’s also a large onsite cafeteria and a private atelier.”

We round the corner and find ourselves in a large open seating area. A woman sits at a desk facing several sofas placed by the large windows. There is a single office door leading off the space.

“Mrs Bianchi, I wasn’t expecting you,” a pregnant woman says, getting up from her desk and moving towards us.

“Callie, darling. How are you doing?” Sophia says warmly, pulling the young woman in for a hug. When she pulls back, she holds Callie’s upper arms, her head turning towards me. “Callie, let me introduce you to Brooke. She’s the daughter of an old friend of mine and is over from England.”

Callie looks over at me, offering an open and welcoming smile. I look carefully to detect any form of recognition. When I sense none, I return it with one of my own and let out a slow, silent breath.

Sophia continues. “We’re heading to HR. Brooke has an interview, but I thought we’d pop in and see Sandro before we do. Is he in?”

Despite her friendliness, Sophia’s commanding tone makes it clear that, although she no longer oversees St Clair, she still expects her rules to be followed.

Duly noted.

“He is,” she says, returning her attention to Sophia. “He’s conducting interviews today.”

Sophia inclines her head.

“For my replacement,” Callie says, her hand moving protectively to her stomach. A familiar gesture Leah used to make when pregnant with Callum. “I’m having to leave sooner than expected.”

“Sandro didn’t say anything,” Sophia says. Her eyes drop to Callie’s expanding waistline. “Is everything okay?”

“We only found out on Friday,” Callie explains, clearly trying to placate her. “I have gestational diabetes. The doctor has suggested, due to the symptoms I’ve been experiencing, that I take early maternity leave.”

“How are the interviews going?” Sophia asks, obviously not wanting to delve any further into her private business with me here.

Callie rolls her eyes before moving back towards her desk and pulling a face.

The two women share a look.

“That well?” Sophia says, checking her watch. “We’ll wait. Come on, Brooke.”

I follow as she leads me towards the comfortable-looking sofa, placed at a right angle to the window. It overlooks the neighbouring office buildings, although the width of the Manhattan street beneath us makes that quite a distance. Looking out, I notice that all the windows of the neighbouring buildings are tinted, so all I can see is the reflection of the building we’re in.

“Can I get you any tea or coffee?” Callie asks, moving towards us.

“We’re fine,” Sophia says, and I swallow against the dryness in my throat.

“So, what’s been wrong with the candidates so far?” Sophia asks, turning towards Callie.

“They’ve all been pitching their virtues. How they can improve his processes,” she says. “I’ve promised him a handover, and he wants to make it as easy as possible for me, but so far no one has stood out.”

Sophia chuckles. “He’s his father’s son. Likes to control every situation.”

I nearly choke on the air I’ve inhaled as she blames his father. It didn’t take me more than five minutes in her company to ascertain that Sophia herself likes to be in control. If his father is the same, I’m not sure I want to meet the industrious Alessandro Bianchi.

I drop my head, wishing we could simply visit HR and then get out of here. I may have been bored over the weekend, but at least I didn’t feel like a sitting duck. Yes, my disguise is good. Both Harvey and Kris’s friend and makeup artist, Tash, have done an amazing job, but there’s still that nagging doubt in my head. Everything is new to me, which leaves me vulnerable to slip-ups. Harper Frazer has never shied away from people or places, but Brooke Feldmann wants to hide in the corner and remain unnoticed.

“Brooke.” I look up with a start to find Callie smiling at me. “How long are you in New York?”

My eyes flick to Sophia before I pinch my wrist.

I smile back. “I don’t know yet. I have no fixed plans.”

Which is true. Who knows how long I’m going to be stuck in limbo, living another life?

“Welcome to New York. If you ever want any advice or information on where to go, I’m happy to help.”

“That’s really kind,” I say, appreciating her friendly demeanour.

In a different time and place, I get the feeling that Callie and I could become close friends.

But that’s not possible. Both The Seamstress and Sophia have made it quite clear. I must keep my distance. The more people get to know me, the more likely I am to slip up. Although I’d hope friends wouldn’t stitch me up. I’ve learned the hard way that this isn’t always the case. My cover is strong enough to survive casual curiosity, but a deep dive? I break out in a cold sweat just thinking about it. People are happy either to claim their fifteen minutes of fame or, if the price is right, to sell you out to the highest bidder. It’s just part of life, something I’ve experienced firsthand as a Frazer.

We pause as a smartly dressed, middle-aged woman exits Alessandro’s office and turns back.

“Thank you for coming. Someone will be in touch,” a voice says, the depth and richness of its tone echoing through the space, raising the hairs on my arms.

The woman in question holds out her hand. “It was nice meeting you, Mr Bianchi.”

I’m not sure her tone matches her words, which makes me bite the inside of my lip to smother my smirk.

She’s probably thinking the same thing as I am. He can’t even be bothered to follow up himself.

But then he’s the boss. Maybe the personal touch isn’t his thing. I wonder if my brothers and sisters follow up after their interviews.

A hand appears, and they shake. Dark hair on a tanned wrist.

The woman nods in Callie’s direction before making a hasty retreat.

The man behind the voice appears, moving towards Callie’s desk.

“How did it go?” Callie asks once the woman is out of sight.

“Another one promising to make my day more efficient without knowing what I do.”

I’m surprised that his accent is British. I was expecting an American, especially after Sophia said she’s lived here for thirty years.

He runs a hand through dark, slightly wavy hair. It’s longer on top and shorter around the sides. He must be six-two, the same height as Gabe and Caleb. The breadth of his shoulders tells me he likes to work out.

Before I can take in anything else, he turns as if sensing us behind him.

“Mother?”

Sophia jumps up, stepping forward.

“Sandro, darling,” she says, pulling him in for a hug.

His eyes meet mine over her shoulder, and it’s like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room.

What the hell!

This man is imposing.

His hair is dark, although his temples are peppered with grey. A straight nose sits above a strong, wide jaw. Fine lines bracket deep-set, almond-shaped eyes beneath a low brow ridge. I’m expecting dark eyes, but instead I’m struck by piercing blue ones.

Sophia pulls back, as if sensing his attention is elsewhere. She turns towards me, her eyes shooting me a clear warning.

I stand and move forward, his eyes still locked on mine.

CHAPTER 8

ALEX

What the hell is my mother doing here?

I clench my fist to prevent myself from running a hand through my hair again. She’s the last person I need today. But like the dutiful son, I hug her, my eyes instantly locking on the young woman sitting on the sofa behind her.

Who the hell?

As if sensing my unspoken question, she makes the introductions.

“Sandro, let me introduce you to Brooke. Brooke is the daughter of an old school friend. She’s just moved to New York. I’m taking her to HR.”

Oh fuck! Not another waif and stray!

This must be her latest charity case. Where does she get them from, and does she not understand that we can’t just employ anyone?

I scowl, but Brooke, or whatever her name is, holds my gaze.

Surprising.

She’s confident, although for some reason, she’s trying not to be. I’m adept at reading people, and I notice the slight lift of her chin, a mark of silent defiance.

“Brooke,” I say, stepping forward and holding out a hand in greeting. “Welcome to St Clair.”

Her posture stiffens, her shoulders visibly tightening as she places her hand in mine. She’s tall, with the build of a model.

I mask my grimace.

Not another wannabe model hoping to get a contract by working here.

Her grip is surprisingly strong. Her eyes reveal a level of intelligence I’m not expecting.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr Bianchi,” she says. Her British accent catches me off guard. Is that a hint of sarcasm in her tone?

“Alessandro, please,” I tell her.

“Alessandro,” she repeats, the sound of my name rolling off her tongue making my muscles tighten.

She inclines her head, her eyes never leaving mine as she withdraws her hand slowly. It’s only then that I realise I’m still holding it.

What the fuck?

Callie’s announcement on Friday, a weekend spent torturing myself and today’s shitshow of interviews have thrown me into a tailspin.

I turn to Callie, wanting to end whatever is going on here.

“What time is my next interview?”

“You have an hour. The agency just called to say the candidate will be late. Family issues.”

I run a hand down my face in frustration, pausing at my mouth. “Cancel,” I say, lowering it, knowing my irritation is shining through. “Tell the agency I don’t need someone who can’t turn up on time.”

Callie doesn’t even flinch, simply nods. “I’ll get on it right away.”

“Perfect timing then,” Mother says, stepping forward. “You have time for a coffee.”

I bite my lip to stop my retort. She, of all people, knows how precious time is and how many tasks I’ve had to bump to hold these interviews. When she was CEO, she couldn’t even be bothered to make time for her children. But experience tells me it will be less painful to deal with Mother and her latest pet project now.

“Callie?” I say.

“Of course. Can I get you your usual, Sophia?” she asks before turning to her guest. “Brooke, what can I get you?”

“That would be lovely, Callie,” Mother answers, moving towards my office.

“A water, if it’s not too much trouble,” the young woman replies. “I can give you a hand?”

Callie’s eyes flash to mine, silently asking if I want a moment alone with Sophia. I acknowledge her with a blink.

Callie turns, her smile aimed at Brooke. “That would be great,” she says. “Follow me, and I’ll show you the kitchen.”

We watch them leave before I usher us into my office.

“Another waif and stray, Mother? Really?” I say, closing the door behind us.

“Oh, no, this one is far from a waif or a stray,” she says, smiling, but adds nothing further.

“But you are getting her a job here?”

“Why not? Speaking of jobs, what on earth are you going to do when Callie leaves?”

“I’ll get by,” I say.

I have no intention of discussing this with my mother.

“Callie said she’ll be training up her replacement.”

I stifle the groan.

“Yes, she’s kindly agreed to stay on for a couple of weeks to help bring the new person up to speed.”

Callie and her big mouth. She should know better. It’s not like she didn’t work for my mother.

“Maybe you need someone fresh off the line, ready to be moulded into whatever you need, just as Callie was when I first gave her a job,” she says.

“Please don’t suggest Brooke. I’m telling you now.”

I don’t want to think about moulding the young woman I’ve just met. That’s the last thing I need.

“Oh heavens no. I wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, her expression one of horror. “I’m just saying that you don’t always have to go for someone with lots of experience.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes.

There’s a knock at the door.

Both women enter. Callie smiles down at Mother while motioning for Brooke to place the drinks on the far side of my desk. A nice, thoughtful touch, not letting Callie carry them in her pregnant state. I clamp my mouth closed as my mother pats the seat next to her, encouraging Brooke to sit.

Callie’s eyes widen, her gaze meeting mine over their heads.

“I’ll go and call the agency, see if they have any other candidates they can send over.”

I frown. “Are there no more lined up?”

I could have sworn I’d selected at least ten from the list she sent me.

“Mrs Donnelley was number five,” she says, and I can’t miss the twinkle in her eye.

She thinks I’m being pedantic.

“Call them and let me know ASAP,” I say.

The problem with wanting someone now is that I only have a limited pool to choose from. And with Callie agreeing to perform a handover, I need to take the stress off her as quickly as possible. I can’t expect her to stay indefinitely.

She nods and leaves, closing the door behind her.

“Brooke, why don’t you tell Sandro a little about yourself?”

My muscles tense, and I rub my jaw.

She picks up her glass of water and takes a long swallow, her slender throat bobbing.

“I don’t think he’s interested in hearing about me.”

She looks up, and it’s then that I realise how young she is. She must be in her early twenties.

“How old are you?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Our eyes lock, and I’m surprised to find no intimidation there.

“I’m twenty-four,” she says.

Young.

“Are you enjoying your trip?”

She pauses, then nods. “I am. I want to work to get some money behind me, so I can enjoy the rest of my travels.”

“And your timeframe?”

“I don’t have one. If I get a job and I’m enjoying it, I’ll stay as long as my visa allows. I can use vacation days to visit places.”

Her tone is serious, as if she’s choosing her words with care. She could have tried to feed me a story about desperately wanting to work for St Clair, but interestingly, that’s not the story she’s going with. I wonder what my mother has told her about me?

“And previous work?” I ask.

My mother scowls, her lips pinching.

This is fun.

Brooke looks between us, remaining quiet until I lay a hand on the desk and wait.

She raises her chin slightly. “I’ve held down a number of part-time positions,” she says, her voice even. “I’ve worked in a hotel on reception. I was responsible for their booking system and dealing with customer complaints.”

“Were there a lot?”

She looks at me.

“Complaints?” I ask.

“Not too many. More things like weak water pressure, hard pillows or scratchy towels.”

“Nothing worse than scratchy towels,” I say under my breath, watching as her lips twitch, but I’m impressed when she maintains a stoic look. “What did you do?”

“Fixed their problems wherever possible. No one likes a scratchy towel.”

She picks up her glass of water, her eyes meeting mine over the rim, almost daring me.

I give myself a mental shake. Let HR find her something in the basement. I don’t need some inexperienced woman testing her skills in my office. I need someone like Callie who can read my every emotion and prioritise my workload without needing to be micromanaged.

“Any other experience?”

The question slips out before I can reconsider.

She leans to the side and picks up her bag, pulling out an envelope.

“My CV,” she says. “If you’d like to see it.”

Part of me wants to ask her why she thinks I’d be interested, but then curiosity takes over.

She places the double-sided paper in my outstretched hand.

I scan it. Mediocre grades and the couple of part-time jobs she mentioned.

“No further education?”

She flinches slightly but recovers quickly. “We lost my father just as I was about to take my exams. When I return home, I’ll be looking to enrol in university.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say.

I wonder if this is why Mother has taken her under her wing. She’s not usually sentimental, though, so I doubt it.

“It was a long time ago.”

It’s impossible to miss the hint of pain that breaks through.

“Well, it was lovely seeing you, darling,” Mother says, getting up, her coffee untouched. Snatching Brooke’s CV from my hand, she passes it back to her. “We need to get going, or we’re going to be late,” she says, moving towards the door. “Good luck with finding a new PA.”

Brooke pauses, slides it back into its envelope and places it in her bag.

“It was nice meeting you. Thank you for the water,” she says, taking her glass with her before picking up my mother’s coffee cup. “I’ll return these to the kitchen.”

I raise an eyebrow, and she smiles, causing something to flip in my chest.

“Save Callie a job,” she says.

“Thanks,” I say. “She’ll appreciate it.”

She moves towards the door, and in the blink of an eye, she’s gone, leaving me standing and staring at the now-empty room.

Callie knocks and enters.

“The agency says they have some more applicants, but they won’t be available for another month.”

I drop into my chair, placing a hand over my mouth. I exhale deeply.

“Thanks.”

She nods and exits.

I pick up my notes on each candidate before throwing them aside and running a hand down my face.

Back to the drawing board.

CHAPTER 9

ALEX

Ipull up the email from Sue, the head of HR.

What the fuck!

“Callie, get in here,” I shout.

She enters, her face the picture of innocence.

“What the hell is this?” I ask, pointing to my screen.

“I have many skills, Alex, but reading something via the back of a monitor is not one of them.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I say, my pulse pounding in my ears.

“Oh, that,” she says after a moment. “Well, Brooke seems nice.”

I shake my head. “No way. No way am I having one of my mother’s spies working for me.”

Callie chuckles. “I really don’t think she is. Or if she is, she’s a bloody good actress.”

I stare at my PA and wonder what on earth is going on.

“Did she put you up to this?”

“Who is she?”

I growl. “My mother.”

Callie crosses her arms, her expression hardening.

“You really think I’d do that to you?”

Some of the shock and tension drains away, and I run a hand over my face, stopping at my mouth.

“Then what the hell?”

Callie moves into the room and takes a seat. “All I did was ask Sue to run one of the company’s psychometric tests on Brooke. Alex, she aced it in terms of detail orientation, rules adherence, and supportiveness. Reliability, adaptability, everything you’re looking for in a PA.”

“But she knows Sophia,” I say with a grimace.

Callie shrugs. “She looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here when they walked in. Almost admitted as much to me in the kitchen, but then realised it probably wasn’t something she should be saying.”

“You want to risk training someone that green?” I ask, knowing this is almost as much Callie’s decision as mine.

Callie shrugs. “I don’t know, there’s something about her. My gut tells me she’s ideal. Maybe she reminds me of a younger me, just someone who needs to be given a chance.”

“And you think she could be that?”

I’m fascinated, as I’ve always valued Callie’s opinion. She also knows my mother inside and out.

“She’s got a fire in her, one she was trying to smother.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” I ask again.

Is it her fire that calls to me?

I’ve always valued people with an inner drive.

Interesting.

Callie is very perceptive when it comes to people. It’s why I’ve loved having her as my PA. She reads people almost as accurately as I do.

“She’s twenty-four and had just been introduced to the CEO of one of the world’s leading fashion houses. I think she handled herself surprisingly well.”

“You think we should give her a go?”

She chuckles. “I’m not telling you what to do. I would not presume.”

I raise an eyebrow, and she laughs, her eyes crinkling, her hand going to her stomach to support it.

“Presume away—please,” I say eventually, knowing I need to support Callie the way she’s supported me over the years.

“All I’m saying is, the other candidates fell short in one or more areas. How much harder can it be to train someone from scratch? Someone who clearly has an aptitude for this kind of work, even if she doesn’t know it yet.”

I’m still reeling. Five candidates were interviewed, and not one was suitable.

I pinch the skin beneath my chin.

“Brooke wasn’t here for an interview, but I got better vibes off her than any of the other candidates we met this morning. And she wasn’t prepped, at least not by your mother. Sophia was shocked when I told her I was leaving so soon. I get the impression that what you saw from Brooke today was all her.” She pauses. “Alex, I know Sophia, I was trained by her, remember. Brooke was not a persona your mother cooked up.”

“So, what do you suggest?”

I already know what she’s going to suggest, and my back is up against the wall. I either accept one of the women I interviewed or give this Brooke woman a trial. But for Callie’s sake, I need to decide, and fast.

My thoughts wander back to Brooke. The defensive tension in her shoulders, that strong, confident stare, the tilt of her chin.

Callie’s role requires someone with a backbone, someone who can politely stand up and run interference.

With Brooke, I know I’m playing with fire. There’s something about her, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Is it because she was with my mother? Or because she’s green and will be Callie’s responsibility? If it doesn’t work out, I’ll be back to square one, only this time Callie will be gone.

“Fine,” I say. “If Sue agrees, and you think she’s up to it, she’s all yours. But Callie, if it’s not working out, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

Callie smiles, her eyes sparkling. I hope I haven’t just walked into a well-constructed conspiracy.

“My gut tells me you’re not going to regret it,” she says.

Truth be told, I already am, but I have more pressing matters on my mind. Finding a replacement PA is not something I have the inclination or patience for right now.

Callie turns to leave and pauses, her hand resting on the handle, smiling over her shoulder. “I really don’t think you’ll have a problem. I think this is going to work out perfectly. But if it makes you feel any better, then of course I’ll let you know.”

“Just make sure you do. I don’t need David on my back,” I say before adding, “Call Sue.”

“Already done,” she says with a smirk.

She closes the door behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts, wondering what the hell I’ve just agreed to.

CHAPTER 10

HARPER

I’m sitting watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns when the phone rings.

“Brooke?”

“Er, yes,” I say after a beat.

I really need to stop blinking every time someone says my name. It’s a tell that I need to drop and fast.

“This is Sue Hanson, head of Human Resources at St Clair.”

My breath catches in my throat.

Have they uncovered an anomaly in my application? Is my cover blown?

“We have a position for you,” she continues.

“You do?” I say, trying hard to hold my voice steady.

“You mentioned to my colleague earlier that you’re available to start right away?”

My heart rate picks up. Working, even in a company with tight security, is exposure, but sitting here, staring at four walls⁠—

“Absolutely,” I say, injecting every ounce of enthusiasm I can muster, ignoring my racing pulse and churning stomach.

“Can you meet me at the office tomorrow at nine-thirty?”

I pause. Did I just hear correctly? They want me to start right away.

“Of course. Do you mind me asking what I’ll be doing?”

There’s a pause. “You must have made quite the impression. You’ll be working with Callie, Mr Bianchi’s PA. She’s about to go on maternity leave, and Mr Bianchi needs a replacement.”

I freeze.

What?

“I’m going to be Mr Bianchi’s PA?”

“If you pass the probation period, yes.”

“But I’ve never worked as a PA before,” I admit.

There must be some mistake. Sophia said I would be working in admin somewhere, hidden away.

“Your test results flagged you as a strong candidate. Callie has said she’s willing to train you, and Mr Bianchi trusts her judgement.”

There is a slight frostiness to her tone. She clearly doesn’t think I’m capable or have enough experience to work for the big man himself. I’m not sure I do, if I’m honest. My bloody CV is fabricated. I doubt the mysterious woman on the plane thought I’d end up as the personal assistant to the head of one of the world’s largest and most successful fashion houses.

Shit!

“Is there a problem?”

“No, I’m just a little overwhelmed…surprised,” I admit truthfully.

A little being the understatement of the century.

Her tone softens. “Callie is the best. She’ll teach you everything you need to know before she leaves.”

“Thank you, Ms Hanson,” I say.

There’s a slight pause.

“Call me Sue. You’ll do great, Brooke. Congratulations and welcome on board.”

“Thank you again.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at nine-thirty.”

She ends the call before I can ask any further questions. Firstly, where the hell am I supposed to go tomorrow? What do I need to take with me?

Sucking in an uneven breath, I hold out my hands and laugh when I see them shaking.

Come on, Harper, you’ve got this!

No!

Come on, Brooke, you’ve got this! Breathe!

I close my eyes, then open them.

It’s not like I haven’t spent years helping Mum organise Foundation events. I even spent a summer working at one of the Frazer hotels before Dad died. Not to mention, I’ve spent the past few years building an audience of three million followers.

I swallow past the lump that forms in my throat every time I think of my deleted accounts. All that work building them up, only to lose them. Elijah blocked my access to the accounts and then deleted them after the scandal broke. The Seamstress didn’t need to worry. My protective big brother stepped in after he saw some messages I was receiving. No one wants to read the hate spewed by trolls and keyboard warriors.

I put down my phone and walk into the bedroom. Staring at my sparse wardrobe, I sift through the limited items I brought with me. Inconspicuous clothing. Nothing traditionally Harper, only items that will allow me, Brooke, to melt into the background.

I’m going to need to go shopping.

I pull out a trouser suit and jumper, then put them back. I think back to what Callie was wearing. Model what I know, don’t mimic. I pull out a dress that was once my grandmother’s, a classic vintage Chanel. I slip it on and stare at myself in the mirror. It’s plausible that Brooke could have purchased it from a charity shop or vintage clothes seller. Smiling, I lean down and grab some shoes, slipping them on. I turn left, then right, then left again. They want the perfect PA, I’ll give them the perfect PA. I only wish I had one of my many scarves to accessorise, but that’s a problem for another day.

I change and sit on the edge of the bed and sigh. Fashion, at least this part, is something I understand. The job itself, however, might be a different ballgame. Callie was lovely, but Alessandro doesn’t strike me as someone who suffers fools gladly. Good thing I’m not a fool. They’re expecting average student Brooke. Instead, what they’re getting is straight-A Harper in disguise. I’ve never failed at anything before, and I’m not about to start now.

I pick up my phone.

ME:

I’ve been offered a job.

SOPHIA:

Congratulations. What will you be doing?

Does she really not know?

ME:

Sue called. Apparently, I’m going to be working as Alessandro’s PA.

The message is read, but nothing comes back. Shit, is she angry?

ME:

Sophia?

SOPHIA:

You’ll be fine. Callie will teach you everything she knows.

Okay, not what I was expecting. My phone pings again.

SOPHIA:

But Brooke, don’t mess it up.

What do I say to that?

I send her a thumbs-up emoji.

To new beginnings.

* * *

I toss and turn all night, the fluttery, empty feeling in my stomach making it impossible for my brain to shut down.

I thump my pillow and roll over.

I’ll be fine.

I yank the covers up and over my head.

Sophia isn’t going to allow me to put myself in danger.

Rolling onto my stomach, I silently scream into my pillow.

No one I met at St Clair batted an eyelid or questioned who I was. My disguise stood up to their scrutiny.

But that was only a few hours. This is going to be all day, every day!

Turning over, I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling. There hadn’t been a flicker of recognition on anyone’s face, not a single “Do I know you?” or “Gosh, don’t you look like…” There had been none of that.

They have my photograph on file—and that thought alone makes me want to vomit. The one positive is that the promise about my references being genuine has held true. To have been offered the job, they must have stood up to the required scrutiny.

At seven, I give up. Leaning against the unit in the bathroom, I stare at my reflection.

Shit!

There’s no hiding the dark circles under my eyes.

I close my eyes and reopen them.

“Hi, I’m Brooke,” I say.

“Hi, I’m Brooke Feldmann…Brooke Feldmann…that’s right, Brooke,” I say again, changing the intonation in my voice, adding a smile, inclining my head.

I repeat the process over and over.

“Brooke, Brooke, Brooke,” I say, hoping that if I hear it enough times, my brain will respond when someone uses it.

At eight-thirty, I call a taxi, allowing myself plenty of time so I won’t be late on my first morning. Sophia was adamant that I use cabs instead of the subway. Less exposure and a more pleasant experience. Now, standing just inside the entrance to my apartment building, I wait for him to pull up, darting outside as soon as I see the cab’s number. There are people everywhere. A passerby tries to jump in, but I grab the door.

“I’ve booked this.”

She grunts, clearly toying with the idea of arguing with me, but the driver turns and says something, causing her to move away. I breathe a sigh of relief as another cab appears with its light on. She moves quickly, darting out, hand raised. The joys of living in a city.

I get in and hand the driver the address.

“First day?” he says, his New York accent warm and welcoming.

“Yes, that obvious?”

“Handing me the address gave it away,” he says with a wink. “British?”

I nod.

“Well, good luck,” he says, pulling out into the line of traffic.

It takes thirty minutes to get to the office. I jump out and pay with my new credit card. I need to check the credit limit and available balance. Not something I’ve ever had to think about before. The joys of being a billion-pound trust fund kid who’s grown up surrounded by wealth.

I’m suddenly thankful Mum and Dad made us money-conscious, although I’ve never had to really consider my account going to zero or below.

Is that still the case?

A problem for another time.

I thank the driver.

“Good luck,” he says, offering me an encouraging smile.

I return it as someone else grabs the door before I have time to close it.

I drop my head, then remember Sophia’s words from the previous day. Squaring my shoulders, I enter reception and make my way to the main desk, where the woman from the previous day is seated, greeting everyone as they pass. Lucia.

I move towards her counter.

“Hi, I’m not sure if you can help me,” I say. “I’m starting. I’m not sure where I need to go.”

She looks up. “Ah, Brooke, Sue said to expect you.” She smiles before recognition flashes across her face. My lungs constrict. “Oh, you came in with Mrs Bianchi yesterday. Hi again, I’m Lucia.”

“Hi Lucia, a pleasure to meet you— again,” I say, returning her smile despite my thundering heart and light-headedness.

She grins. “I love your British accent.”

She picks up the phone next to her.

“It’s Lucia. Brooke has arrived.” There’s a pause as she listens to whoever is on the other end of the call. “Yes, of course, I’ll tell her to wait here.”

She returns the receiver to its cradle.

She points across to a set of plush sofas. “Take a seat. Callie will be down shortly.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

When Callie appears, I get to my feet, inhaling deeply.

“Lovely to see you again, Brooke,” she says.

The same sense of welcome returns.

“You too,” I say, meaning it.

There’s a warmth about Callie, an openness. I’m looking forward to getting to know her, even if it is only for a few weeks.

I follow her to the elevator while she talks.

“First, we’re going to head to HR. Sue has all the paperwork ready for you to sign. NDAs, etc.”

I open my eyes wide and stare at her. She smiles.

“It’s okay,” she says, placing a hand on my arm. “Nothing major. It’s just working as Alex’s PA means you’ll be privy to a lot of personal and confidential information.”

I nod.

“After that, we’ll head to the in-house store. Your dress is gorgeous, vintage Chanel, right?”

I nod again, impressed by her knowledge.

“I thought so. However, all St Clair employees are requested to wear St Clair attire while in the office.”

My mouth drops. “That’s quite the commitment for the company,” I say.

“But worth it, if you think about it. When you work here, you’re seen as an extension of the company and are expected to dress and behave accordingly. HR must have explained all this to you yesterday.”

“They did, but I was going to be a back-office clerk, not front and centre.”

Callie chuckles. “For some reason, I’m struggling to see you taking a back seat in anything. But I might be wrong.”

My face must drop because she places a hand on my arm and squeezes. “I meant that as a compliment. You’re stunningly beautiful and have the grace of a model. Not to mention, your dress sense is impeccable, and you exude a natural air of confidence. I think you’re going to be perfect as my replacement.”

I swallow. “How can you tell? You only met me briefly yesterday.”

“I just do,” she says with a wink. “I’ll see to it that you know everything you need to before I leave.”

“Thank you,” I say. “I only hope I can live up to your expectations.”

And that of the man in charge. But I don’t say that.

I realise I don’t want to let Callie or Sophia down either.

“I love it, that’s so British. But be warned, Alex might sound British, but many of his British mannerisms have worn off over time. He’s very much a man of two worlds.”

“Noted,” I say, realising we’ve arrived at HR.

Sue is waiting for us and holds out her hand in greeting. “Welcome aboard, Brooke. If you have any questions, please let me know. Callie is well-versed in everything St Clair, so you’re in great hands.”

“Thank you,” I say again, beginning to sound like a scratched record.

“Now if I can get you to sign these documents, I can give you your pass and let you and Callie get on with your day.”

I take my time reading through my contract and the NDA. It’s all pretty straightforward and similar to documents I’ve encountered through my family before.

“At least I’m not signing away my firstborn,” I say.

“Not yet anyway,” Sue says, with a chuckle. “As I said before, if you have any questions and Callie isn’t around, pop down or drop me an email. We’re here to help.”

I smile and nod.

“Let’s go,” Callie says. “It’s time to fill up your wardrobe.”

We head downstairs to the on-site store.

“Here we go,” Callie says, pushing open the door.

My eyes pop out on stalks as I take in the racks of St Clair clothes, bags and shoes.

“You’ll need at least fourteen outfits. If you can’t do it all today, don’t panic. We’ll find you enough to see you through, and you can come back later. Anything you choose will be shipped to your apartment this evening, unless it needs altering, of course. Our in-house tailors are quick, so even then it will only be a couple of days.”

I move forward towards the racks, noticing items I have back in England.

I turn away. Those are Harper’s items. I need to choose sensible office attire for Brooke.

I begin to move up and down the aisles, Callie following. She appears in her element, holding up clothing, handing them to the assistant to put in the changing room. It’s like shopping with a close friend. She has an amazing eye.

“How long have you worked for Alessandro?” I ask, as I step into the changing room, pulling the curtain closed.

“Five years, since he took over as CEO. Before that I was Sophia’s PA.”

“No pressure then,” I mutter, making Callie laugh.

“As I said, you’ll be fine. Alex’s bark is far worse than his bite. He likes to be in control. It’s why he makes such a great CEO. He’s meticulous. His attention to detail is second to none. He’s also an amazing designer.”

I pop my head out from inside the curtain.

“Designer?”

I remember reading about that when I was looking up Sophia.

“Yes, before he took over as CEO, he was one of St Clair’s head designers.”

“That’s quite a leap,” I say, shutting myself inside and stifling my groan.

“Not really. He has a degree in fashion and a master’s in business.”

Oh great, another one. I’ve been raised with siblings who are all overachievers. My eldest brother, Elijah, is the worst, but every single one of them is at the top of their field. I’m the baby sister and a major disappointment, having never achieved anything up to this point, flitting from one thing to the next.

I step out from behind the curtain.

“Wow, it’s like that outfit was made for you,” Callie says with a grin. “Outfit one, perfect.”

I give her a twirl before stepping back behind the curtain.

“Next,” she says.

“Are you sure this is, okay? Won’t Alessandro be expecting us upstairs?”

“Don’t worry about Alex. He knows this is important. You’re going to be representing him. He’s also walking on eggshells around me at the moment, afraid I’m going to break. My husband, David, is one of Alex’s best friends, so he’s pretty invested in this little bundle I’m carrying. I’m sure they’ve been conspiring to get me off work and at home.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” I pop my head out again.

Callie laughs. “No, because it comes from a place of love. When you date a powerful man, you learn to pick your battles.” Her hand goes to her pregnant stomach. “We tried for years to get pregnant. Now that I am, there’s no way I’m risking our child, even if it means putting my feet up.”

“How did you meet David?” I ask, sliding up the zip of the dress before stepping out.

“Through Alex,” she says with a smile. “He came into the office one afternoon, and it was like a bolt of lightning.” She chuckles, a faint glow darkening her cheeks. “He instantly asked me out, although I admit to playing hard to get for a while. David had a bit of a reputation among the ladies.”

“What did Alessandro say?”

For some reason, I can’t imagine he was happy his friend was hitting on his PA. I know my brothers wouldn’t have been. Gabe certainly wasn’t when he thought Caleb was chasing after Leah.

Callie laughs. “It was strange. I was really nervous, but when he saw us together, he gave us his blessing. We got married nine months later.”

“They say, when you know, you know.”

“Exactly. That was four years ago,” she says.

I continue to show her my outfits until I have a pile of definites and a few maybes. She asks me questions about my family, and I use the time to test my memory of my new life. I’m surprised at how easy Callie makes it for me to become Brooke. I’ve always hated lying, preferring to be upfront and honest, often to my own detriment, but it’s something I’m going to have to get used to. Luckily, Brooke was raised with the same number of siblings. Their ages and names vary, but they left Kat as Kat, a Katie rather than Kathryn.

When we’re finally done, I choose one of the outfits and switch into it. My new wardrobe includes a selection of shoes and bags.

“Your style and taste are impeccable. You’ll fit in well here,” Chrissie, the store manager, says with a smile.

I look at the pile of beautiful clothes being labelled.

Wow, I may need more storage.

“It’s like these clothes were made for you,” she says with a grin. “It’s rare. I’m usually taking up or amending most people’s items in some way.”

“I’m lucky, I guess.”

My heart stumbles. My grandmother always used to say, ‘fine feathers make fine birds’. But with that comes attention. Fuck, I’m going to need to keep my head down, or remaining in the background will be impossible.

“Now for your address,” she says. “The service will deliver them tonight when you get home. Let someone know at the front desk when you’re leaving, and they’ll do the rest.”

“I will, thank you.”

I pause, my heart thundering in my chest as I pick up the pen.

Chrissie frowns. “Is everything okay?”

I give her a lopsided smile while reining in my anxiety.

You’ve got this! Sophia said you’re safe here.

“Sorry, I’ve only just arrived. I had to think for a moment.”

She smiles. “Take your time. I remember how it was when I first got here. I can get it from HR if you’d prefer?”

“No, it’s fine.”

I exhale as I jot down my home address.

As we make our way to the door, I catch my reflection in one of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

I do a double-take, struggling to even recognise myself. My hair, my make-up, my clothes. Something loosens in my chest, and my nerves begin to settle, although they don’t completely disappear. I’m now a walking poster girl for the St Clair fashion house. Designer clothes are familiar territory. I just hope no one stares too closely at the person wearing them.

As I follow Callie upstairs, listening to her chatter, I know I need to learn to be super-efficient, but professionally invisible. It’s time to put on the performance of a lifetime.

I can do that. Of course I can!

CHAPTER 11

HARPER

Callie takes the task of training me to a whole new level.

She’s the perfect teacher, kind and thoughtful, but she doesn’t let anything slide, which I’m grateful for.

I grab a second notebook from the stationery cupboard and begin taking copious notes. Callie will be here for less than two weeks. I can’t mess this up.

“Alex likes his routine,” she says.

“Morning coffee, Americano, with three shots,” I say.

A man after my own heart, and my brothers. Alex and Gabriel would get on like a house on fire.

“Perfect,” Callie says. “Next⁠—”

“Reports need to be on his desk along with the day’s itinerary for him to go over, whilst drinking said coffee.”

Callie chuckles, biting her lip as Alex comes out of his office.

“Callie, do you have the reports I need for the Henderson meeting tomorrow?” he asks, his gaze locked on Callie, ignoring me.

It’s been the same since I arrived. A brief nod, then nothing. Alex directs all his questions and requests to Callie as if I’m her invisible sidekick. I should be grateful, blending into the background and all that. However, it’s getting a little tedious. I’m about to take over. Ignoring me does not bode well for our future.

“They’re on their way. Colin had some final changes he wanted to make.”

Alex harrumphs. “Get them to me as soon as possible,” he says, before turning and disappearing back into his office.

Callie rolls her eyes.

“I’m not sure he’s happy I’m here,” I say, my shoulders drooping.

Callie shakes her head. “He doesn’t like change. Me leaving… he has a lot on his plate. New collections, fashion week in a few months, photoshoots. Remember, Alex is the bridge between the St Clair creative vision and commercial reality. The buck stops with him when it comes to ensuring the brand remains exclusive, relevant and profitable. There are many people out there who want what he has,” she says. “And don’t forget, I know how he works, his likes and dislikes. There’s going to be a period of adaptation for you both until you find your own routine.”

I pull a face, and she laughs.

“You will. You’ve been here for two days, and you’re already picking up the systems faster than I could have imagined. You’re a smart cookie, Brooke. You’ve got this.”

If I don’t, Alessandro will get one of the women he interviewed, whether he likes them or not, because at least they’ll be familiar with what’s needed.

If I’m honest, the past two days have been fun. I’m enjoying the mental challenge. I’ve always loved learning new things. Mum always said I’m resourceful and quick at assessing situations.

Callie’s inbox pings.

“Great, the report is here,” Callie says, pulling it up and sending it to the printer in one of the other rooms. All reports are printed behind locked doors so no one can intercept them.

“I’m in need of a toilet break. Little Button here is pushing on my bladder.”

I smile, thinking of the number of times Leah said the same thing when she was pregnant with Callum. It must be a thousand times worse now she’s carrying twins. My stomach twists sharply at the thought of what I’m missing, Callum growing up and Leah blooming during her pregnancy. I blink a few times.

“Are you okay?” Callie asks, a crease forming between her brows.

“Sorry, yes,” I say, flashing her my brightest smile. “Something in my eye.”

Callie looks unconvinced but doesn’t call me out, even when I grab a tissue and dab at the offending lid. Instead, she pushes herself up.

“Hold down the fort while I’m gone,” she says.

I pull out my notebook and begin looking through my notes.

Callie’s phone rings.

Oh fuck!

No, not oh fuck. You’ve got this!

“Alessandro Bianchi’s office. Brooke speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Brooke,” an American voice comes over the phone. “No Callie today?”

“Callie has just stepped away.”

“Ah, you’re the Callie in training? Welcome,” he says warmly. “I’m Pete from the London office. I need to arrange a meeting with the big man and our Italian supplier. Can you do that for me?”

“Of course.”

I pull up Alessandro’s diary as Callie showed me.

“He has availability after lunch next Thursday, or Friday morning,” I say.

“With the time difference, we may be safer going with Friday.”

He gives me the supplier’s name and his own.

“Thanks, Pete, I’ll send confirmation as soon as it’s arranged.”

“Great, have a nice day, Brooke.”

“You too.”

I stare at the screen and open my notebook. We’ve gone through appointments and meetings in great depth, mainly within the New York office but, nevertheless, it can’t be that difficult.

I log the meeting, add the attendees and hit send, letting out a sigh of relief.

Callie returns, with the bound report.

“Anything exciting happen?”

“Pete from the London office rang wanting to set up a meeting with Alessandro and the Italian supplier.”

“Excellent, did it go okay? Pete’s a real sweetie,” she says.

“It did. I’ve added the meeting to the calendar.”

“Did you align the time zones?”

I shift my head slightly, my eyes widening. Time zones? Wouldn’t that be automatic?

I shake my head.

Callie lowers herself into the chair, turning the monitor towards her.

She pulls up the meeting.

“Look at the meeting times for Pete and the Italian supplier.”

“Oh shit,” I say, shooting her a panicked look.

“It’s fine. It’s fixable,” she says with a smile.

“I assumed it would be automatic.”

“It should be, but it’s worth checking, especially if Alex has been travelling, or one of the others. Sometimes it doesn’t always reset.”

I grab my notebook as Callie cancels the current meeting and enables automatic time adjustment. I scribble down some additional notes while she rebooks the meeting. The last thing I need is Alex turning up to an empty meeting—or the suppliers doing the same.

“Thank you again,” I say, dropping back against the chair. “That was a stupid mistake and one I should have picked up on.”

“You’re welcome, and Brooke,” she says. “You will make mistakes. You’re on a steep learning curve. I made hundreds when I first started. Sophia had the patience of a saint. I just made sure I learned from each one and tried not to repeat any.”

I make a few more notes.

“Now take this to Alex,” she says, handing me the bound report she just retrieved.

I jump up, grab the paperwork, and head to his door. I knock and wait.

“Come in,” a voice calls from deep inside.

I twist the handle and enter, holding the report like a shield in front of me.

“The report you wanted.”

His head shoots up at the sound of my voice.

“Put it there,” he says, pointing dismissively to the edge of his desk.

Alex returns his attention to the screen in front of him.

I cross the room, placing it on the desk, then retreat towards the door.

Nothing.

It’s like I don’t even exist.

But then again, I don’t, I remind myself.

Will I ever be able to fill Callie’s shoes?

“Is there something you want, Brooke?” Alessandro says, looking up.

“Er, no. Is there anything else you need?”

He quirks an eyebrow, and I feel my cheeks heat.

Annoyed at myself for letting him get to me, I want to stamp my foot.

He looks at his watch. “Can you ask Callie to order my usual lunch? I’m going to be caught up with this document now that it has arrived.”

“Of course,” I say, wondering how Callie handles his intensity and always manages to stay one step ahead of him.

Will I ever be able to anticipate what this man needs? Or am I going to be forever chasing my tail?

At least Callie is coming back, or I hope she does. Not that it matters, I’m only here until everything is sorted out at home and my life can resume as normal.

I realise I haven’t moved and that I’m staring.

“I’ll get right on it,” I say, only to receive a harrumph from across the room.

I let myself out in record time and groan as I make my way back to the desk. Callie looks up.

“He wants his usual lunch,” I say.

“Which is?”

“Chicken breast on rye bread with salad, no onion and no mayo,” I reel off, earning myself a grin.

“If you call down to the cafeteria, they’ll know what he orders. It’s usually either the chicken special or the steak, sometimes just a snack. They all know what to include or exclude if you tell them it’s for Alex.”

I bite my lip.

I need to be competent and channel Callie. It’s my only protection.

“I’m on it,” I say with more confidence than I feel. Work smarter, not merely harder, in this case. I’m the master of my own destiny. I’m competent, resourceful and intelligent. Alessandro Bianchi is not going to get the better of me. I need to remember who I’m hiding beneath this exterior. I’m a Frazer. I’ve never failed before. I’m not about to start now.

CHAPTER 12

ALEX

Her perfume lingers in the air long after she leaves my room. The light, fresh floral scent invades my senses.

Why the fuck did I agree to this?

It’s all Callie’s fault.

Wanting to please the woman who’s ensured my life has run smoothly for the past five years has overridden my instinct for self-preservation. That, and the guilt that she’s still here when she should be at home with her feet up.

Now there’s Brooke.

Young, vivacious Brooke, who seems to approach everything in life with a cheerful determination, or at least she does when I’m not around. The moment I open the door, a mask falls into place, and I can almost sense her hackles rise.

Warm and fuzzy isn’t my thing. I have no spare time to hold the newbie’s hand. My time is spent juggling day-to-day operations, assessing what needs to be done and planning how to maintain our position as one of the world’s leading fashion houses, not playing nice. I know I’m being sharp and confrontational, but she’s not Callie and is therefore a major distraction, forcing me to waste time checking whether she’s screwed up.

I was caught in a moment of weakness, and now I’m stuck with the consequences. I run a hand down my face and let out a deep sigh, rechecking my calendar.

Callie clearly resolved the issue, as it was fixed within minutes. I ignored the error in scheduling. Will there be more mishaps once Callie goes? Am I going to be walking around fixing Brooke’s messes?

But of course, she’s lovely, at least according to Pete’s email, which tells me how friendly and efficient my new PA seems, and how he can’t wait to meet her. Glad there’s an Atlantic Ocean between them. The last thing I need is another friend running off with my PA and getting her pregnant.

Where did that thought come from?

Brooke appears to be oddly likeable. Those who meet her seem to respond to her positivity, her optimistic outlook on life. Everyone she deals with enters my office smiling, having received a warm welcome. Even Callie is blown away by her and the speed with which she’s picking up the role. She keeps telling me how wonderful Brooke is, and what an agile mind she has. It shows you can’t always judge someone’s ability by their academic results. It’s why we started running the psychometric tests in the first place. I wonder whether her grades were affected by her father’s death. Maybe he’d been ill for years.

There’s a knock on my door.

“Come in.” I sigh and look up as Callie steps into the room.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Close the door and take a seat,” I say.

Callie does as she’s asked.

“How are you feeling? Not too tired, not overdoing it?”

She rolls her eyes at me.

“Don’t you start. It’s bad enough with David checking on me every five minutes. I’m perfectly fine. Brooke is amazing and has already taken over most of my role. I’m just supervising.”

I shoot her a look, and she inclines her head.

“I told you, Brooke is turning out to be a quick study. There won’t be any more errors like this morning. I should have warned her, that was on me,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“When I travel, the issue is going to arise again.”

“And now she knows to check.”

“You left your desk, and there was a mistake—one that would have wasted a lot of people’s time, mine included.”

“Really, Alex?” She harrumphs. “Brooke is handling herself brilliantly. Cut the woman some slack. She’s going to make mistakes. Everyone does. I certainly made plenty when I started working for your mother. But I learned over time. From what I’ve seen with Brooke, it will be once, and once only.” She glares at me, letting me know she’s not happy with my treatment of our recruit. “As for everyone else, they love her. She not only has a quick mind but also has a cooperative spirit and is highly organised. The notes she’s taken are even colour-coded for efficiency.”

I sit back and steeple my fingers.

“You still think she’s the right person for the job? I can call one of the agency staff back.”

She sighs. “Have you not heard a word I’ve just said? Brooke is perfect. She’s personable and cheerful. People respond well to her.”

“You mean, she’s all those things except around me?” I say, watching Callie’s lips twitch.

“If you stop growling and ignoring the poor woman, she might feel more inclined to smile at you too. No offence, Alex, but you’ve been a grumpy ass since she arrived. Even I’ve not wanted to set foot in here.”

I scowl, so Callie scowls back.

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll try harder.”

She stands up. “See that you do. She’s going to be an asset. If you’d only let her.”

Callie leaves, and I go back to my work.

Heaven help me, the last thing I need is Brooke Feldmann smiling at me.

* * *

It’s early when I enter the office.

I draw up short when I find Brooke already sitting at Callie’s desk. She looks up as if sensing my presence.

“Good morning, Alessandro,” she says, her eyes not quite meeting mine, which irks me for some reason after my conversation with Callie.

“You’re in early,” I say, stating the obvious.

She smiles, her gaze finally meeting mine.

“I’m going through some of the things Callie showed me yesterday. I wanted to get a head start,” she says quickly, jumping in with an explanation. “I’ll get your coffee. I have all the reports here ready for you.”

She gets up and moves around the desk.

My breath catches.

She can’t have known.

No one but Elise and Callie knows I still submit designs for our collections, although not as regularly as I would like these days. But here she is, wearing one of mine.

I open my mouth, then close it again.

Seeing her in it, I realise the dress and the cut are perfect. It’s like I designed it especially for her. Even the models at Fashion Week hadn’t brought it to life the way the young woman standing in front of me does. I’d been disappointed at the time and had wanted to archive it. Elise, our Design Director, had overruled me, and in the long run, she was right. It became one of our seasonal bestsellers, but to me, it has always been missing something. But now, seeing her in it…wow. It’s exactly how I originally envisaged it.

Fuck!

I know I’m staring. But my heart is racing.

How is this possible?

I clamp my mouth shut and simply nod, watching as she scurries off to the kitchen to do my bidding.

I stand and watch her leave.

Callie told me Brooke has a brain and that I’m to stop growling. Now I find myself wanting to growl but for a very different reason.

Entering my office, I throw down my jacket and fire up my computer.

Brooke enters, and I close my eyes briefly, centring myself before I turn to face her.

I take in her appearance. The way the fabric hugs the contours of her body, the flawless alignment of the seams, and the drape of the skirt as it moves with her in the light. It’s like she’s breathed life into my two-dimensional vision.

“Your coffee and reports,” she says, pulling me back into the present.

“Thank you,” I say.

Her eyes meet mine in surprise.

I shake myself.

“Will there be anything else?” she asks, her brows furrowing. “Is everything all right?”

I grimace before running a hand down my face.

“Everything’s fine,” I say, more abruptly than I mean to.

She flinches, and I instantly feel bad. Callie’s words resurface.

“Sorry, it was a late night,” I say, surprising myself. Since when do I apologise? “Thank you, Brooke. You’re doing a great job.”

She smiles—not a small twitch, but a full-blown, no-holds-barred smile… one that steals my breath and feels like an arrow to my chest.

“Well, if you need anything, I’ll be just outside,” she says, as if I need reminding.

“Great,” I say, turning away because I need her to leave. She does, with a spring in her step.

Oh shit!

I drop into my chair and grip the arms.

I’m highly disciplined, completely focused—or at least I have been until now. I’ve made a lot of sacrifices to get where I am, and that includes my marriage. I can’t let this young woman walk in and derail me simply because she looks amazing in a dress I designed.

I shake myself.

Stay focused and keep your head in the game, Bianchi.

CHAPTER 13

HARPER

The phone rings, its internal light flashing to indicate it’s Alessandro.

I stifle a groan.

What have I done now?

I’ve been here four days. Four days that feel more like a lifetime. I’ve been ignored and growled at and had more work thrown in my direction than I ever imagined possible when I agreed to this position. My to-do list is getting longer, not shorter, by the day.

I pick up the phone, drawing in a shallow breath. “Alessandro. How can I help?”

“Brooke, can you come in here for a moment?” he asks.

Oh shit, what haven’t I done now?

Breathe…

Does he know Callie has left for the day? She has another appointment with her obstetrician to check on Little Button and her blood sugars.

It’s okay. Yesterday he said you were doing a great job.

But are you?

Maybe this is it? Is he going to fire me while Callie is away? Sweep me out of the building before she returns?

“Of course,” I say, putting down the phone and standing up, smoothing out the wrinkles in my dress as I go.

I inhale deeply before grabbing my notepad. It’s full of carefully collated notes, with Post-it notes sticking out of the sides and top to mark important sections.

I reach his door and knock.

“Come in,” he says.

The sound of his voice does strange things to my stomach.

I inhale and exhale, trying to calm my nerves before pushing open the door. The man leaves me a jittery wreck. I now understand how people must feel when they meet Elijah, my brother, for the first time. He’s an intimidating bastard, not only because he’s six feet six but also because he never used to crack a smile, or at least not until Pen returned.

Until then, he and Alessandro could have been formed from the same mould.

I step into the room, shoulders back.

“Take a seat,” he says, motioning to the chair opposite him.

I position myself carefully.

“How are you finding it, working at St Clair?”

His question surprises me.

“Erm, good. I’m learning a lot. Callie is a great teacher, and everyone I’ve met has been incredibly welcoming.”

All bar you, I want to add, but bite my tongue.

“Good,” he says, sitting back and steepling his fingers in front of his face. “I have a task for you.”

I clamp my mouth shut to stop my jaw dropping.

“Of course,” I say, leaning forward and opening my notebook.

He holds up a hand and reaches into his drawer, pulling out a new notebook.

“For this, you’ll need a new notebook,” he says cryptically.

He pushes it across the table, and I lean in, reaching for it. When I sit back, his eyes are locked on me.

“Right,” he says, as if catching himself. “Callie’s leaving party.”

A smile spreads over my face before I can stop it. Now this is something in my wheelhouse. Parties are my speciality. I’ve been helping my mother organise social events for years.

“Do you think I can leave it with you?”

“Absolutely,” I say. “Do you have any stipulations or requests…other than it’s going to be a surprise, I take it?”

“Yes, she’ll murder me if she knows we’re planning this. She wants to slope off in silence,” he says, and that’s when I catch a real glimpse of the affection he has for Callie.

He’s going to miss her and their working relationship.

For the first time, I realise I’ll never be able to replace Callie in Alessandro’s eyes. That will be impossible. We don’t have the history or trust, so of course things will be different, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work well together as a team. I just need to show him I can get the job done efficiently and effectively.

My grin widens. “Leave it with me. Callie will have a first-class send off.” I open the new notepad. “Budget? Catering? Venue? Do you have anywhere particular in mind?”

“I’m thinking here. In the Couture Salon.”

I frown, masking it when he looks across, although clearly not quickly enough.

“It’s used for in-house fashion events,” he explains. “It’s where we privately show our collections to clients, buyers, even editors.”

I nod, making a note to myself to ask where the hell the Couture Salon is.

“As for the budget, tell them to bill me personally.”

My pen pauses on the page.

“No expense spared. Callie has worked here for a long time. She deserves it.”

“Collection for mum and baby?” I ask, feeling for the first time that this is where I can shine.

Show Alessandro I’m not some young, inexperienced airhead.

“Yes. Bring me the total before you buy anything, and we can discuss.”

“Certainly. I’ll go down and see Sue in HR once I have a plan in mind and make sure, I’m not breaking any codes of conduct.”

His lips tilt slightly. “Good move,” he says, but it’s impossible to miss the glint in his eyes.

“Are you laughing at me?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“No,” he says, his smile spreading. “It’s just very by-the-book of you.”

“I don’t want to make a mistake.”

“This is a party, but if it makes you feel better, you can run everything past either Sue or myself. She can also arrange for one of her team to introduce you to the various department heads. With Callie leaving in a week, there’s not much time. I think there’ll be a lot of people wanting to attend.”

I scowl as the scale of the task begins to sink in.

“No pressure, then,” I say under my breath.

Some of my earlier excitement is waning. This could be my downfall in one fell swoop.

I purse my lips, but then I remember this is for Callie.

“I’m on it,” I say, standing up. “Anything else you need or want?”

He stares at me before inhaling. “That will be all. When you go downstairs to speak to Sue, switch the phone so it diverts to your mobile. You do know how to do that?”

I hold up my initial notebook and wave it in the air. “In here. Callie, as I said before, is a great mentor.” I turn to leave before spinning back around. “I’ll try hard not to screw up.”

I don’t wait for an answer, although I could swear I hear “I know you won’t,” under his breath.

* * *

I spend the next hour listing everything required to organise a successful party. Now I simply need to identify who will oversee each task. A week is not a long time. Is Alessandro setting me up to fail? Is this the perfect ‘I told you so’ moment?

I call Sue to see if she’s available.

“Hi, Sue, this is Brooke, Alessandro’s PA,” I say awkwardly.

“Brooke, how’s it going? I’ve been meaning to pop up and see you. How are you settling in?”

“It’s been a steep learning curve,” I admit, wanting her to know I’m not blasé about my position. “Callie is an amazing mentor, which is part of the reason I’m calling. Alessandro has asked me to contact you with regard to the leaving party he wants me to organise for her,” I say. “I was ringing to see if you have a moment to go through my ideas. He mentioned you might be able to have someone assist me and introduce me to the people I need to approach?”

“Of course. Do you have time now? I have an hour before my next meeting,” she says.

I’m sure everyone was surprised when Alessandro said I got the position, though maybe not too shocked since Sophia had introduced me to them.

“On my way,” I say.

I grab my notebook and head to the elevator.

Shit, the phone.

I run back and switch the number to my mobile, sliding a pen into my pocket. I don’t want to be asking for one if I do get a call.

Sue is waiting for me and ushers me into her office, closing the door behind us.

“So, what do you have?”

I list the items I’ve already noted, including speaking with the cafeteria about catering for the event.

“That’s a pretty comprehensive list,” she says with a smile.

She opens her computer and gives me a list of names to contact, before firing off an email to each head of department telling them to expect me.

“I’d say catering is number one. They should be finishing up after the lunch rush. Ask for Monty. He’ll be able to assist you. Ensure they add it to next week’s food order,” she says.

“What about numbers? Surely they’re going to need to know how many people will be attending?”

Sue laughs, a full-bellied chuckle. “This is a party for Callie. People will be rearranging their schedules to attend.”

I smile. I can understand why. It would be the first thing I’d be doing.

“How many people are we talking about?” I ask.

“At least seven hundred and fifty,” she says. “As for the collection and gifts? Do you have any ideas?”

“I’ve made a list of all the things Callie has talked about over the past few days, things she and David still need to purchase. I know they need a crib and which one, along with baby grows, soothers and so on. I was thinking any spare money could be put aside for the baby?”

If seven hundred and fifty people donate towards a gift, that’s going to be one hell of a lot of money!

“What a lovely idea,” Sue says. “It sounds like you’ve got it all in hand. I’m impressed.”

My chest swells with pride. Harper has always been good at winning people over and organising things, but that’s because her name opened doors. Brooke, as a plain Jane, lacks that advantage.

“I hope so,” I say. “I’d hate for anything to go wrong.”

Organising this party is going to put me in the spotlight. I’m going to go from invisible to centre stage in a matter of hours if I’m not careful. Then there’s keeping this hidden from Callie, as well as continuing to learn all I can before she leaves next Friday.

“Head down to the cafeteria, speak to Monty. I’ll call down so he knows to expect you.”

“Thank you for your help,” I say, getting up and moving towards the door.

“Brooke.” I stop and turn around. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

I give her a nod and smile before turning and leaving.

Next stop, the cafeteria and Monty.

CHAPTER 14

HARPER

By the time I arrive back at my apartment, I’m dead on my feet.

A day of organising the party while managing Alessandro’s schedule has been intense. Not to mention that I’m playing catch-up on meeting preparations, learning the document management systems and getting to know who’s who internally and externally. My brain is in overdrive, and this is all before I take over from Callie, who currently handles the fashion-specific and creative support tasks. Apparently, they’re on Monday’s agenda.

I slump down onto the sofa and close my eyes, frowning when my phone pings.

KRIS:

Hope your first week has gone well. Parcel arriving shortly.

ME:

Feet haven’t touched the ground, but it’s keeping me out of mischief. Intrigued.

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door.

I check the peephole and find a courier standing outside.

“Ms Brooke Feldmann?” he says as I open the door.

“That’s me.”

“Delivery for you, ma’am.”

I take the box he’s holding out.

“Thank you.”

“Have a good evening,” he says, walking away.

Closing the door, I reattach the chain before placing the box on the table.

I slide a knife through the packing tape, biting my lip as I stare down into the box. Inside are unwaxed lemons, unsalted butter, eggs, self-raising flour, baking powder, sugar, a carton of milk, along with a note.

Dear Brooke,

Thought this would give you something to do over the weekend.

I’ve included the lemon drizzle cake recipe belonging to my amazing cook, Mrs Transmere.

She said to call if you have any questions. I’ve included her number.

Happy baking.

Kris.

I smile at his thoughtfulness.

ME:

Thank you.

KRIS:

You’re welcome. Try not to burn down the apartment building.

ME:

Oh, ye of little faith.

I unpack the ingredients, putting away those that need refrigerating.

At least I won’t be bored this weekend. I’ll now be baking, as well as playing catch-up.

With Callie out of the office, I didn’t want to risk another scheduling incident. So, I double-checked every task I carried out this afternoon.

After seeing Sue, I spent an hour with Monty, the cafeteria manager. We discussed the menu and previous events they’d catered for. I learned who to go to in future to get budgets approved, although I copied Alessandro into the correspondence as he requested. By the time I left, each department manager had messaged to say they would arrange a whip-round for anyone who wants to contribute to Callie’s leaving gift.

I spent the rest of the afternoon arranging for all the reports and presentations Alessandro wanted to be printed and ready for Monday.

I return to the sofa and pull my feet up under me, a large mug of tea in hand. I’m normally a coffee drinker, but today, I need a taste of home. Dragging the throw I’d had delivered over my knees, I open my laptop and search for local stores selling baby gifts.

Holy shit, there are a lot of them.

Two hours later, my eyes are fluttering shut, but I’ve bookmarked a list of potential gift items I know Callie will love. Gift-giving has always been one of my favourite pastimes.

Dragging myself into the bedroom, I face-plant on the bed. Week one complete!

My only consolation is that Callie seems to have a life, so clearly once I’m up to speed, things will calm down.

* * *

Monday morning comes around faster than I anticipate. I was dreading the weekend, stuck inside four walls without another human being to talk to, but it went surprisingly quickly, mainly because I powered through my to-do list and baked.

I also managed to speak to Kat and April, with Caleb, of course, putting in his two pennies’ worth. I told them about my job and what I’m doing. Having a focus for the weekend, then catching up on all the TV shows I’ve wanted to watch but never found the time to enjoy, meant the weekend flew by.

“How was your appointment?” I ask when Callie appears on Monday morning.

“It was fine. My obstetrician is pleased that I’m going to finish work early. Although not as pleased as David.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do with all the free time.”

“Swim? Walk? Sit with your feet up. I was going to say eat chocolate, but the diabetes puts a bit of a dampener on that.”

I suddenly remember the cake I’ve left in the kitchen and grimace.

Way to go, Harper!

“Is everything all right?” she asks.

“Fine,” I say, screwing up my face. “I baked over the weekend. I left it in the kitchen. I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

Callie laughs. “Don’t worry about me. I was looking forward to getting large with child, gorging myself on chocolate with no guilt. Someone clearly has other ideas. Besides, I’m more of a savoury girl myself. And cake… how to make friends and influence people. The team will love you. You might want to snag a piece for Alex before it’s all gone.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

The elevator dings, and we both look up as Sue appears around the corner.

Her eyes drop to Callie’s growing stomach, and she smiles. “How’re you doing?”

“Getting bigger by the day,” she says, placing a hand on her neat little bump.

Sue looks over at me before returning her gaze to Callie.

“I was wondering if I could borrow Brooke? I was hoping to give her a tour on Friday, but something came up.”

“Of course.” She spins towards me. “It’s the best way to meet everyone. Just don’t try to remember everyone’s names. There are a lot of us now.”

I incline my head at Sue, who simply smiles back. “Let me know when you’re free.”

“Give me an hour to hand over to Callie, and then I’m all yours.”

Sue excuses herself, and Callie turns to me.

“So how did Friday go?” Her eyes flick to Alessandro’s door.

“It was fine,” I say.

“Fine as in you didn’t kill him? Or fine, I didn’t have any interactions with him, so you didn’t feel the need to kill him? Or fine-fine, as in you handled everything that was thrown at you, so he stayed quietly in his office.”

I laugh as her eyes sparkle. “Probably the last one. He was busy, and I gave him no reason to complain. I completed the list you left me.”

“What, all of it?” Callie looks at me, her eyes wide.

“Er, yes. Wasn’t I supposed to?”

Callie chuckles. “Well, if you got everything done, then my job is finished. You must have been working flat out.”

I shrug, not wanting to tell her I worked all weekend. “I prefer to be busy. Besides, I grouped the tasks so I could work through several at once. Your list was very comprehensive.”

“Well, if you’ve done all the jobs, then I can put my feet up and wait for Alex to call. Did you get him his morning coffee?”

I smile. “Of course, delivered with a smile and a breakfast bar. He looked at me like I’d grown a second head.”

“I’m going to miss your interactions. Alex will defrost once he realises that he can’t change the outcome and my baby is coming whether he likes it or not. Anyway, I’ll knock and see what he needs today.”

As soon as Callie moves out of sight, I reopen the email from Monty. It contains an updated quote. Monty sent the original over on Saturday, which I immediately forwarded to Alessandro for sign-off. He replied almost instantaneously, wanting a few items added, including a cake. I sent the revised request back to Monty. I’m not sure the man ever stops. He’s got being a workaholic down to a fine art, but then he reminds me of my brothers before their wives came into their lives and showed them another way.

My heart hurts at the thought. I miss them and our banter. Them telling me I need to grow up and me telling them all to butt out of my life.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, Brooke Feldmann is being a fully fledged grown-up, with grown-up responsibilities. If only they could see me now.

My email pings, announcing several messages from various heads of department asking for clarification about Friday’s event.

Everything looks good, so I breathe a sigh of relief.

Callie reappears, so I close my messages.

“Head off to see Sue. I’ve got everything covered,” she says. “It seems you’ve finally impressed him,” she adds with a wink. “Well done.”

My head swims as I head to meet Sue, with a grin the size of New York.

“Oh shit, cake,” I say, only to find Callie close behind me.

“Don’t worry, I’ll grab him a slice,” she says, shooing me into the elevator.

CHAPTER 15

HARPER

Callie is at another doctor’s appointment. David is worse than a mother hen. Her words, not mine. It means I’m holding down the fort. Great practice for next week, because then it’s all on me. At least not having Callie to rely on gives me a clear view of what I do and don’t know.

I look at the clock. It’s one thirty. Is he going to spend all day shut in there? He’s told me to hold all calls and followed it up with, ‘Brooke, I don’t want to be disturbed.’

But that was four hours ago.

My stomach grumbles.

Okay, this is ridiculous. The man was here before me, and I arrived just before eight. I’m still trying to get used to the time difference, especially since Mum keeps ringing me on Pen’s bat-phone, as I like to call it. She knows the time difference but doesn’t seem to consider that I might appreciate an occasional lie-in. Not that I’m complaining, I love hearing from both her and Kat, all the comings and goings, the latest Frazer gossip.

I call down to the cafeteria.

“Hi, Bea, it’s Brooke. Sorry to call, but I don’t want to leave the desk. Can I have Alessandro’s special lunch made up?”

“Of course, hon. Do you want something for yourself? I can make you the chicken salad you enjoyed the other day.”

I look over at his door.

Well, it’s not like I’m going anywhere.

“That would be amazing. Thank you, but only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s not, and we’re quiet now. The lunch rush is almost over.”

“Great. When shall I pop down?”

“It’s okay, I’ll get one of the girls to bring it up. I’m sure they’ll appreciate a break from the kitchen.”

“Thank you.”

I cut off the call and sit back. I still have a few tasks to complete, so a working lunch may mean less time spent catching up after hours tonight.

Callie’s presents are being delivered this afternoon, and I managed to get a delivery of wrapping paper. I must admit, not being able to simply pop out to the shops is getting tiresome. So far, I’ve been lucky. No one has recognised me, but then who here would expect the infamous Harper Frazer to be working as a PA for a fashion house in Manhattan?

Being seen out on the street is a different risk. As Sophia pointed out in the beginning, it’s about keeping myself safe. To say The Seamstress put the fear of God into me is putting it mildly, and at the end of the day, it’s not just me. If what she said is true, then I must think about the rest of my family and the other women who are also at risk.

Fifteen minutes later, Molly appears.

“Hey, Brooke,” she says, her southern twang warm and inviting.

“Thank you, Molly. I really appreciate you bringing this up.”

“Don’t thank me. It got me out of the kitchen. It’s crazy with all the prep for tomorrow’s party. Everyone is super excited. Everyone loves Callie and wants this to be the best baby shower she could wish for.”

I’ve been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love shown to Callie and, in turn, to me. Over seven hundred staff members have RSVP’d to say they’re going to attend. The other fifty have sent their apologies as they have prior engagements. But the amount collected in the whip-round has blown my mind. Callie is clearly loved.

No pressure!

Molly places the lunches on my desk.

When she leaves, I head to the kitchen and make Alessandro his favourite coffee. I place it on a tray and carry it back to my desk. I also snag a bottle of chilled water from the fridge, unsure if he has any with him.

I lift the tray and carry it to his door.

Knocking twice, I wait.

I hear a harrumph from deep inside and bite my lip. It could be Gabriel. I pause.

“What?” A terse voice comes from within.

I don’t answer. I simply open the door and step inside.

Alessandro looks up, a frown marring his brow. “I asked not to be disturbed.”

“This isn’t me disturbing you. It’s simply me offering you fuel.” I place the tray on his desk and step away. “We all need sustenance,” I say.

Whatever he’s working on, it cannot be so important that he ignores his body’s needs.

I turn and walk away.

“Brooke…” I stop at the sound of my name. “Thank you. I didn’t realise the time.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, letting myself out.

I glance back briefly to see him staring at the food, his expression unreadable, before closing the door quietly behind me.

Callie returns a little while later.

“Nothing has changed,” she says, hanging up her bag and coat before lowering herself into the chair. “But I admit, I’m relieved.”

“That’s great news,” I say.

I know she was concerned she might need to begin taking insulin.

“Just think, from tomorrow, answering phones and organising Alessandro’s entire life will all be a distant memory. You can focus entirely on you and your Little Button.”

Callie groans. “I’m going to be bored out of my brains. Promise me you’ll call me if you need anything. Even if it’s just for a chat.”

“I promise,” I say, knowing I’m probably not going to have any free time to sneeze, let alone pick up a phone to gossip. But being alone, I get that. David, by all accounts, is like Alessandro, working ridiculous hours.

The afternoon flies by, and Callie packs at five.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

I grin. “No, everything is under control, I promise.”

She sighs.

“If you’re sure, I’m going to go,” she says, rubbing a hand over her growing bump. This is the time of day when the pregnancy affects her most.

“I’m sure,” I say, tapping my notebook.

I’ve spent the afternoon answering phone calls, booking appointments, and learning to liaise with the creative team to track all the high-value samples and ensure they’re returned to the correct place.

Alongside my day job and while Callie wasn’t looking, I’ve also been following up on everything party-related. Alessandro also sent me several emails asking me to arrange meetings and travel plans for various people, which I now do almost on autopilot. At least he’s started redirecting tasks to me, allowing Callie to take a step back and simply shadow me, which has been perfect. I wonder if she’s done it to force his hand. It’s also given me a chance to work out what I can and can’t do. There appears to be more I can do than I can’t, which bodes well for next week.

“I knew I was right about you,” Callie says, sliding on her coat. “You’ve got this.”

“I sure hope so,” I say, smiling. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Callie says as she leaves.

I glance at my phone. That was close. The delivery is due in fifteen minutes.

My phone flashes.

“A delivery just arrived for you,” Lucia at reception says.

“Hi Lucia. Shit, er-sorry. Callie is on her way down. It’s her leaving gifts.”

“I thought that’s what it was when I saw the picture of the crib… hold on, I’ve got you.” I hear some rumbling and hissing. A few grunts and an unrepeatable swear word.

Lucia comes back on the phone, panting. “That was close,” she wheezes. “We managed to get the box out of sight.”

I chuckle. “You’re a star!” I can’t believe how on board everyone has been.

“You’re welcome. Callie has now exited the building,” she says in a tone straight out of a spy thriller. “Are you happy for me to send Mr Delivery up to you?”

“Send away. Thanks again, Lucia.”

The elevator pings five minutes later, and a guy around my age steps out. His broad shoulders suggest he’s a gym bunny, while his tanned face says he spends his weekends at the coast. He shoots me a panty-melting smile.

I move to greet him.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi, are you Brooke?”

“I am. Thanks for bringing this up.”

Alessandro’s door opens behind us.

“Brooke,” he says, stepping out. His eyes instantly lock on the guy standing next to me, his brow wrinkling.

“Callie’s baby shower presents have just been delivered. I was going to wrap them up before I leave tonight.”

He grunts and moves to my desk, placing a pile of papers on top of my keyboard.

“Can you get these copied? I need them for my meeting first thing.”

“Of course.”

I glance up at the clock. It’s already gone five-thirty. Another late one is on the cards. If this is usual, no wonder David wants Callie to finish.

He nods before disappearing back into his room and shutting the door.

I turn back to the delivery guy.

“Can you pop them over there?” I say, pointing to the sofa.

“Of course,” he says with a smile. “Where in the UK are you from?”

“The south,” I say, trying to be as vague as possible.

“Oh, whereabouts? I know Southampton and Bournemouth,” he says, surprising me, before grinning. “My aunt and uncle moved there a few years ago.”

“I live in a village called Brockenhurst,” I say. “It’s in the New Forest.”

I do live in Hampshire, and Brockenhurst is one place I know, and where I apparently grew up, according to The Seamstress. I’m not sure whether they chose it because familiar is safer.

“That’s so cool.”

It’s then that I realise the delivery guy is flirting with me. He’s stopped moving the items I ordered and is standing, his pose designed to show off his muscles while he chats me up.

“It is, but now I’m here,” I say, holding out my hand for the invoice.

“Would you go out for a drink with me?” he blurts out.

Oh hell.

“I’m in a relationship,” I say quickly, thinking of the first thing that comes to mind.

“Shame, I could have shown you the sights of the city.”

“That’s very kind, but I’m dating a New Yorker, so I’m getting plenty of insight,” I say, wanting this conversation to end.

“Brooke.” The sharp rebuke comes from behind me, making me spin on my heels. “I need those documents… tonight.”

I bite the inside of my mouth, not wanting to tell him I’m officially off the clock. I’m only still here to make sure Callie’s party goes without a hitch.

“Of course,” I say, turning back to Mr Delivery, who is staring at Alessandro over my shoulder.

“I’d better get going. My packages aren’t going to deliver themselves.”

“No, they won’t,” Alessandro says sharply from his door.

I take the invoice and quickly sign to confirm I’ve received the listed goods, before he hands me my copy.

“Nice meeting you, Brooke,” he says with a wink before wheeling his trolley back to the elevator.

I turn back to my desk, but I can still feel Alessandro’s eyes burning into my back.

“I’ll get these done now,” I say, picking up the papers he left on my desk.

When he doesn’t move, I turn to face him.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” I ask, finding my body heating up under his scrutiny. It’s always the same whenever he’s nearby.

“No, that’s all. I wanted to say thanks for lunch.”

His words are gruff, yet the sincerity surprises me.

“You’re welcome.”

He pauses for a moment, and I think he’s about to say something when he turns and re-enters his room, closing the door behind him.

Did he just come out and offer me an escape from an over-friendly delivery guy?

No, he would have had to have been listening to our conversation. I’m just his lowly PA. Maybe he really does need these papers urgently.

I look down. They’re the reports I gave him earlier. I frown. He wants these copied?

I shrug. Who am I to question the all-powerful Alessandro Bianchi, CEO of St Clair Fashion House?

However, I wasn’t really expecting a thank you. I let out a breath, knowing next time I won’t need to think twice. I feel like high-fiving myself. A win for me. Although I won’t count my chickens before they hatch. Tomorrow is the real test. If I mess up, then all the lunches in America aren’t going to save me.

Papers in hand, I head to the copier and slide them in, mindlessly staring into space.

Once this is done, I can wrap Callie’s presents and make my way home… prepare for P-day and a goodbye I’m dreading.

CHAPTER 16

HARPER

Callie’s last day has consisted of me steering the ship while she fields visitors. She’s spent much of the afternoon as a weeping, emotional mess.

“These bloody pregnancy hormones,” she says, pulling the last tissue from the box as her latest visitor leaves.

She’s finally moved away from our shared desk and, like a queen, has positioned herself on the sofa by the window, holding court with minimal disruption. To say she’s loved doesn’t even come close to describing it. I’m surprised Alessandro has been decidedly quiet, leaving her to it. He has, however, barked a few orders in my direction from the confines of his room. It’s not my leaving day after all. It’s my induction into… whatever the hell this is.

“You’re allowed to be emotional,” I say, having just finished preparing Alessandro’s latest presentation and sending it to him for sign-off. “Enjoy the moment.”

I deliver another box of tissues to the table, which makes her laugh and then cry even harder.

She gets up and pulls me in for a hug, her growing bump a barrier between us.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she says, pulling back but holding me by my upper arms. “Promise me.”

I nod and smile.

“I knew I’d like you from the moment you walked in with Sophia,” she says, her eyes flicking to Alessandro’s door. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll come around. He doesn’t like change, and has yet to realise you’ve been in charge this past week.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as you,” I admit truthfully, but I’ve never been one to throw in the towel, so I’ll just have to rise to the occasion.

Callie laughs again, the sound wrapping around me like a hug. She’s the same age as Kat, my older sister, and has, I realise, helped in my transition away from my family. Her friendliness has been something I’ve needed to get me through the past couple of weeks.

“I’ve worked here for over nine years, Brooke. I have a feeling that when, and if, you stay that long, you’ll be streets ahead of me.”

Her words warm my heart. Her faith in me is something I cherish.

Having always been Harper Frazer, I’ve never had to prove myself. People were happy to kiss my arse and say what they thought I wanted to hear. It was never something I enjoyed, but it was a fact of my previous life. Callie telling me that Brooke Feldmann is doing a good job makes me feel as tall as the Empire State Building.

I glance over and smile. “Well, you are loved and are going to be sorely missed,” I tell her, stepping back as the telephone rings on my desk.

I move back to answer it, Callie retaking her seat.

“Brooke, it’s Molly,” comes a breathless, slightly stressed-sounding voice. “They’ve sent birthday balloons.”

I resist the urge to drop my head to the desk and bang it up and down several times.

“Thanks for the update,” I say, smiling at Callie as she looks over.

“Callie’s there?” Molly asks.

I hum in affirmation. “Not a problem, I’ll get straight on it,” I say, needing to end this call and get this problem resolved as quickly as possible. I glance at the clock. Two hours until the party is due to start.

Shit!

I replace the receiver.

“Is everything all right?” Callie asks. “You look a little flushed.”

“Time of the month. Always happens,” I say, getting up and grabbing my handbag. “If Alessandro needs me, I’ll be back in ten,” I say, switching the phone to redirect calls to my mobile.

I leg it to the elevator and press the button, pulling up the balloon and party favour supplier’s contact details.

The call connects as I step into the lift and press the button for the fourteenth floor. It’s only then that I realise Callie must be wondering why I’m heading to the lift and not the bathroom. A problem for when I return.

“Checkers Balloons and Party Favours. Davina speaking. How can I help?”

“Hi Davina, this is Brooke Feldmann from St Clair. Apparently, there appears to have been a mix-up with our balloons and party favours. I ordered ‘Baby Shower’ and have apparently been delivered ‘Happy Birthday’ ones.”

There’s silence on the end of the phone. The elevator opens, and I make my way to the Couture Salon. My jaw drops. The room has been completely transformed, with covered tables and chairs arranged around the perimeter. The runway has been dismantled, leaving only a small stage at one end.

Molly dashes towards me, a Happy 5th Birthday balloon in hand.

Davina’s voice comes back on the phone. “Let me get hold of Ralph. He’s doing the deliveries today.”

“Can you call me back as soon as possible? The party is due to start in about an hour and a half,” I say, shaving half an hour off the deadline, leaving us time to set up.

“As soon as I hear something, you’ll be the first to know,” she says, although her tone does not offer much confidence.

“They’re all birthday,” Molly says, her eyes wide.

“Breathe,” I tell her, patting her arm. “Get them back in their boxes. Hopefully, Ralph hasn’t offloaded anywhere else yet. And if he has, then he’s going to be a busy man,” I say, sucking in a breath and trying to calm my own racing heart.

Monty approaches.

“Wow, the transformation is amazing,” I say, earning myself a smile.

“For Callie, anything. This place is going to be heaving later. Everyone I know is coming. You’ve done a great job of organising this, considering you’re only two weeks in. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. Callie’s been so great at helping me settle in. She deserves a send-off she’ll remember. Is all the food done?”

“Chef has everything in hand. As you can see, the room has been transformed. We’ve moved the presents you sent down earlier to the stage. They’re hidden under the tables. When Alessandro is ready, he just needs to let us know, and we can move them out into the open.”

I suck in a breath.

Oh shit.

One thing I didn’t do was ask Alessandro if he was happy to give a speech. I kind of assumed⁠—

Shit and double shit!

If he doesn’t, then who? Sue, head of HR?

My phone rings before I can begin flipping out.

“Brooke Feldmann?”

“That’s me,” I say automatically. The name is finally taking on a life of its own.

“I’ve caught Ralph at his next stop. He’s turning around and heading back your way. You’re in luck, he got your order mixed up, and I caught him before he began unloading.”

I’m not sure ‘in luck’ really covers it, but I’m not going to argue.

“That’s great, I’ll get a team downstairs ready to help turn this around as quickly as possible,” I say, not sure if that is actually feasible or whether I’m overstepping.

The call ends, and I look up to find Monty and Molly watching me.

“Taking charge, you’ll go far,” he says with a wink.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“Don’t apologise. These guys are going to be standing around shortly. If it means we can get organised faster, it’s all hands on deck.”

I nod, suddenly aware that this is not necessarily how Brooke would operate. This is pure Harper, but needs must, and this party requires a win.

I turn to Monty. “I need to get back upstairs before I’m missed,” I say, feeling guilty about abandoning them.

“Go.” He waves me away. “We’ve got this, I promise,” he says, motioning to his team, who are now busy repackaging everything.

I smile. “Thank you. Any more issues, call me.”

Monty smiles and laughs as I practically sprint to the elevator. Ten minutes have turned into closer to thirty.

Shit.

Callie is alone at the desk.

By the time the elevator lands on our floor, I’ve stabilised my breathing.

“Everything okay?” Callie asks as I make it back to the desk.

“All good,” I say.

“Er, Alex came out. He wanted to see you.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, counting to ten.

“Don’t worry, I told him I sent you on an errand,” Callie says.

I shoot her a look of gratitude. “What am I going to do without you?” I ask.

“You’ll manage. I have no concerns. You’re going to rock this.”

“I’m glad one of us has faith,” I say, heading towards Alessandro’s door.

I inhale deeply before knocking.

“Come in.”

I let myself in, closing the door behind me.

He looks up, his blue eyes burning into me. Until now, Callie has been the perfect barrier, but from next week, I’ll have no shield against the man in front of me.

He motions to the chair opposite him.

I take a seat.

“You wanted to see me?”

“How are the plans going?”

Now he asks?

“We’ve had a small issue with the balloons and decorations, but that’s now been resolved.”

“Everything is ready?”

“The Couture Salon has been transformed by Monty and his team. It looks amazing. Chef has the catering handled. The drinks were delivered last night, and a bar has been set up ready. The majority of staff have responded, and the whip-round is more than I could ever have imagined.”

He chuckles at my use of whip-round.

“Callie is well-liked,” he says.

The understatement of the year.

“I have big boots to fill,” I say.

“You do,” he adds, clearly not wanting to sugarcoat it or lie to me. Something I find strangely reassuring.

“At least organising this has helped get my face out there,” I say, trying hard not to grimace.

It certainly has. There’s been no hiding, and every day now more and more people are greeting me as I move around the office. The only positive is that no one has shouted, ‘Look, there’s the missing heiress, she’s been under our noses all this time.’

There doesn’t seem to have been a hint of recognition. Maybe Kris was right when he said the Americans weren’t as familiar with the whole Frazer family apart from Kat, and that’s only because she runs one of the top hotel chains here.

I look up, our eyes clashing. “I forgot to ask, are you happy to give a small speech for Callie and hand her the gifts?”

He inclines his head and stares at me. My heart rate picks up. “I… I can ask Sue in HR if you’d rather not,” I say to fill the silence.

Although if he refuses, he’ll drop in my estimation. Callie has been his PA for five years. If he can’t say a few words, then screw him.

“Of course,” he says. “Just tell me when.”

I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “Great.”

He quirks a brow. “After all, you’re the one in charge of this event.”

I tilt my head in acknowledgement. I am, aren’t I?

“I’ll let you know.” My eyes wander to the bank of clocks he has on the wall, showing the different time zones around the world. The setup reminds me of my brother Gabe’s office. “Kick-off is in about an hour.”

“I’ll be there,” he says.

I get up and turn to leave, my pulse suddenly racing.

“How are you going to get Callie downstairs?” he asks, surprising me.

“I was going to help her carry her belongings out of the building at five. David is coming to collect her. I invited him too,” I say, wondering if that was the wrong thing, but knowing they’re friends. “If you want to say your goodbyes or assist…”

His smile touches his mouth, and goose bumps spring up all over my body.

“Yes, I’ll help. I want to see Callie’s face when she realises what you’ve done, and that David knew.”

I wrinkle my brow. “Why? Is she going to be annoyed?” I ask, suddenly wondering if I’ve been set up.

His grin widens, transforming his already handsome face into something mesmerising.

“Callie hates surprises, especially the ones she’s out of the loop on, but she’s organised enough events herself to realise she’s not getting away without some form of a send-off.”

“Phew, you had me going there for a moment.”

Callie is one of the few people I’ve got to know since arriving in New York. She’s also the last person I want to piss off.

I glance at the clock again. “See you in about fifty minutes.”

When I make it back to my desk, Callie is busy packing her final belongings into a box. She looks up, her eyes glistening.

“Hey,” I say, coming up and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s not forever unless you choose to make it so,” I say.

“I know, I’m being stupid and emotional.”

I smile, giving her a squeeze before letting her go. “At least you can nest in peace, without having to worry about the time or deadlines. Isn’t that what pregnant women do?”

“True,” she says. “But I’m not sure how I’m going to keep myself busy. Twelve weeks seems like forever.”

I think back to Leah when she was pregnant. She worked from home right up until she went into labour. Luckily for her, Gabriel came home early that day.

“I’m sure you’ll find something to do. If not, you can always come back and have lunch with me,” I say, before realising how presumptuous it sounds.

Callie’s face brightens. “Really? I’d love that,” she says before I can revoke the invite. “Maybe next week?”

I chuckle. “I’m game if you are,” I say. “I’ll probably need some additional advice on dealing with his highness in there.”

“You’ll have him eating out of your hand in no time. Just stand your ground.”

Something in my expression must give me away.

“Honestly, you’ve got this.”

* * *

Alessandro appears at his office door right on time.

“Ready?” he asks, hoisting Callie’s box into his arms.

She’s spent the last half an hour talking with him.

She bites her lip and nods, clearly not trusting her voice.

“There you are.”

A dashing man with blond hair steps forward and takes her into his arms. She crumples against him. He closes his eyes and breathes her in. This must be David.

He looks up. “Hey, Alex.”

“David,” Alex says with a smile, watching them both. “Just in time.”

“You must be Brooke,” David says, slipping one arm from around his wife and holding it out towards me.

Callie pulls back, wiping her cheeks with the tissue in her hand. “This is Brooke,” she says, repeating his statement.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” I say, shaking his outstretched hand.

“Ah, I forgot Callie said you’re a Brit. How are you finding New York?”

“I’ve not had a chance to see much yet but…”

“Don’t let this workaholic keep you chained to the desk,” he says.

“I’m not that bad,” Alex replies, earning himself some coughs and splutters.

“Really?” Callie adds, placing her hands on her hips.

Alessandro grins. “Well, not your problem anymore. No more dealing with my grumpy arse every day. Just think of that.”

She chuckles and throws herself at him. He sets the box on the table and catches her. The affection between them is clear.

David chuckles.

“Yes, but I’m going to miss your grumpy arse,” she says, mimicking his British accent. “You better come around for dinner. I need to know all the gossip.”

He gives her another hug. “Of course. I’ll need to check on my godchild. That’s the only reason I’m letting you go. You know that, right?”

“What? Not because my husband threatened to revoke your being godfather?”

He winks at her, and I feel like an intruder as I realise I’m witnessing a very different side to Alessandro, one only a few people are privy to. This is what he’s like with the people he cares about.

My chest constricts at the easy affection between the three of them.

He gives her one last hug. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Callie wipes her eyes before turning to hug me. I squeeze her back.

“I’m going to miss you,” I say, feeling my own throat tighten.

“Me too,” Callie says. “Lunch next week, it’s a date.”

When we let go of one another, I catch the look Alessandro shoots the two of us and I notice that he’s holding her box again.

“Come on,” he says gruffly.

* * *

We make our way into the elevator. Alessandro positions himself in front of the control panel, with David and Callie in the middle, while I hide quietly at the back. They’re talking about items she’s going to buy for the baby.

Before I know it, the door is opening.

A loud chorus of ‘Surprise!’ erupts, and Callie spins towards the door, her hand flying to her mouth.

“You didn’t,” she says, her eyes flying between the three of us. “Alex…”

He shakes his head, inclining it towards me. “This is all Brooke,” he says, his eyes meeting mine over her head, twinkling with mischief.

“Brooke?” she says, turning to face me.

David leans forward and hits the button, holding the doors open.

“You didn’t think you were going to get to leave without saying goodbye to everyone, did you?” I say, my voice catching.

She bites her lip and smiles. “I thought that’s what I’ve been doing all day.”

“That, beautiful lady, was simply the warm-up. Everyone is waiting for you.”

I squeeze her hand as Alessandro steps out, positioning himself in front of the door sensor to keep them from closing.

Callie steps out with David, her hands flying to her cheeks as another cheer goes up.

Alessandro nods for me to move out of the elevator and into the room. He follows behind, slapping David on the back as he passes.

He glances over at me.

“Over there,” I say, pointing to the stage and the tables where all Callie’s baby gifts are hiding.

He disappears into the crowd, heading in the direction of the stage.

“Wow, you pulled it off,” Sue says, appearing beside me. “Her face was a picture.”

I grin, my chest expanding. “I did, didn’t I?”

I look around and spot all the balloons and banners. Baby Shower, not birthday. Ralph made it back in time!

Molly appears at my side, handing me a glass of bubbles.

“I think you deserve this,” she says.

I accept the glass. “Thank you, Molly,” I say, taking a tiny sip.

There’s no way I’m drinking, lowering my guard and risking getting caught. It’s tough enough being Brooke with a clear head, let alone an alcohol-fuelled one. I’ll need my wits about me tonight, that’s for sure. Cameras are already out, and people are busy taking photos and videos, capturing the moment ready to upload to their social media accounts.

Oh hell, was anyone videoing the elevator reveal?

My stomach drops at the thought. I should have stayed upstairs and made an excuse to come down later.

I slink off to the side, swapping it for a juice glass.

“Quite the party you’ve arranged,” Sophia says, coming to stand next to me.

“Sophia, I wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” I say, straightening.

“Callie was my PA for four years before Sandro took over. I wanted to be here to say goodbye.”

“You don’t think she’ll be back?”

She turns her head to look at me. “Do you?”

I smile. “No, not that she’s realised it yet. But I have a feeling once her baby arrives, she’s not going to want to be separated from them.”

“It’s been a battle for them both,” Sophia says. “I’m just happy it’s all worked out.”

The party is in full flow when Alessandro takes to the stage.

He knocks a metal spoon against his glass next to the microphone, causing feedback.

I flinch.

It takes a moment for the room to quieten down.

“Thank you all for coming. I’d say to celebrate Callie leaving, but we’re celebrating her moving on to a new chapter in her life. Come on up, Callie. Mother.”

Sophia steps onto the stage next to him, and I realise what she’s doing. She’s stepping up so I don’t have to, knowing this moment is going to be recorded and posted. Potentially scrutinised. My heart starts to thunder in my chest, and I move further back, only stopping when my back hits the wall.

Callie makes her way to the stage.

“Callie, we had a small whip-round,” Alessandro says, his eyes finding mine. I sent him a message letting him know exactly how much had been collected and what I was going to do with it. “We’ve arranged for a few gifts for you and the baby.”

I recognise two of the kitchen staff, who step forward and move the tables, leaving the presents I wrapped last night, centre stage.

Callie’s hand flies to her mouth, her head spinning to David, who is simply smiling up at her.

“I don’t know what to say,” she says, her voice choking up once more.

“Open them,” someone shouts.

Callie turns and grins.

She holds out a hand to David, who joins her, Alessandro and Sophia on the stage. Between them, they ooh and ahh over the gifts, all of which came from Callie’s baby list, the one I compiled over the two weeks we’ve spent together. She looks out over the sea of heads, her gaze finding mine. She mouths the words thank you and places her hand over her heart. I tilt my head in acknowledgement.

It’s another hour before Callie and David say their final goodbyes.

Callie pulls me in for a hug.

“Thank you, this was amazing. I feel very spoilt.”

“It wasn’t hard, believe me. Everyone wanted to be here. I also have a host of messages to forward to you, from those who couldn’t make it and wanted to send their well wishes.”

Callie bites her lip, her eyes glistening once more.

“Hey, no more tears. You need to get home and put your feet up. Time to rest now, doctor’s orders, remember. I’ve got this,” I say, winking at her. Her eyes dart to Alessandro. “Don’t worry. I’ll look after him,” I say, following her gaze, only to find him watching us.

Callie turns her head.

“Somehow, I think you will,” she adds with a slight smile. “I’ll call you about lunch.”

“You better,” I say.

“Thank you,” David says, shaking my hand. “This has meant a lot to her. Don’t put up with any of Alex’s nonsense.”

“Don’t worry,” I say with a smile. “I have older brothers.”

He chuckles. “I can see why Callie likes you. I don’t think he stands a chance.”

After they leave, I check with Monty that everything’s in order before heading back upstairs to the office.

It’s eerily quiet, the corridor lit only by the emergency lights.

As I reach my desk, the elevator pings at the end of the hall. Alessandro appears, his posture stiffening as he sees me.

“What are you still doing here?” he asks.

“Just forwarding some of the lovely messages sent to Callie by people who couldn’t make it this evening.”

He nods, continuing towards his door.

He holds the handle before turning.

“Well done. Tonight was a tremendous success. I wasn’t sure you could pull it off, but you did. I think everyone will be talking about it for quite a while, and I know it meant a lot to Callie and David.”

My lungs expand at his praise, before suddenly constricting, the smothering sensation almost overwhelming me. I’m proud that tonight went well. Callie enjoying it was what mattered, but drawing attention to Brooke was not the aim. I spent the evening dodging camera phones and friendship requests. If I thought I could have got away with it, I’d have made my excuses and left, but Callie would have worried, and Alessandro would have questioned what was wrong, so I stayed. I just pray that wasn’t a mistake.

“Thank you,” I say instead. “Is there anything else you need before I head home?”

“No,” he says. “Have a good weekend, and I’ll see you Monday morning.”

I’m about to say the same, but he’s already turned away and headed into his office. The click of the door signals our conversation is over.

CHAPTER 17

HARPER

Monday comes around faster than I could have anticipated. I expected being stuck in the apartment on my own to be a chore. But instead, it turned out to be a godsend. The past week had been mad, and organising Callie’s leaving party while running through every scenario Alessandro could possibly throw at me had left me drained. By the time I made it home on Friday night, I face-planted onto the bed and slept a good portion of Saturday.

Sunday was spent catching up with my siblings and preparing myself for today. My first day flying solo.

I’m at my desk by seven thirty. Alessandro has yet to arrive, so it gives me a chance to check emails and reschedule any appointments before he does.

“Good morning, Alessandro,” I say cheerfully as he approaches.

His head snaps up, the look of surprise on his face making me want to laugh.

“Good morning, Brooke. You’re in early.”

“Still on British time,” I say, before realising I’m supposed to have been here for a couple of months travelling around. His brow furrows and my face heats. “Not sure I’ll ever get used to it, even after all this time.”

He nods, and I stifle a groan. I’ve just made myself sound like a dithering idiot. I mentally smack myself on the forehead.

“Can I get you a coffee? Breakfast?” I ask, moving around the desk.

I know it was always the first thing Callie did when she got in, but Alessandro was usually already here.

“A coffee would be great,” he says, unlocking his office door and heading inside.

I follow. “There have been a couple of meeting cancellations I’ve had to reschedule…”

Alessandro turns, his shoulders back.

“Brooke,” he says quietly. “Take a breath. Get me a coffee while I get settled, after that you can fire whatever you need at me.”

I draw in a breath and close my mouth.

“Sorry,” I say, walking backwards towards the door.

“Don’t apologise. It’s good to see you’re keen, but a warning, before my first coffee…”

I hold up my hand. “Please, say no more. My brothers are the same, they… sorry… coffee, I’m on it.”

“Oh, and Brooke. Please call me Alex. Alessandro makes me feel like I’m being reprimanded.”

I nod and back out of the door, pulling it closed before he can say any more, my shoulders slouching.

Fuck, shit, bollocks!

I hiss under my breath. What is it about this man that has me tied up in knots? It’s not like I’m a stranger to men with god complexes. I was raised with three of them.

I make my way to the kitchen and flick on the coffee machine. It’s not as good as Gabriel’s, but it makes a perfectly acceptable coffee.

As it bubbles and gurgles, I use the time to re-centre myself, allowing the frantic churning in my stomach to settle.

Alessandro Bianchi is a mere man. He’s no better than me, even if he is my boss, pays my wages and runs a billion-dollar fashion house! The man is still an intelligent and entitled prick at times.

I smile at the last thought, just as the coffee machine begins to work its magic.

When the coffee is finished, I scoop up the cup and carry it towards his office. I put it down on my desk and grab the tablet, which, until today belonged to Callie. It’s now mine.

I place it under my arm and make my way to the door, knocking once before letting myself in.

Alex is at his desk, staring at his computer screen.

He looks up as I enter. His eyes lock on the mug in my hand.

“Thank you,” he says, holding out a hand and taking it from me as soon as I’m within reach.

Our fingers brush, sending an unwelcome jolt of awareness through my body.

“Would you like me to go over today’s plans?” I ask, composing myself. “I can come back.”

“It’s fine, take a seat. Did you not make yourself one?” he asks, realising I’ve nothing to drink.

“I’m fine. I’ve had a cup already today,” I lie.

I don’t want to hold up proceedings, so I make a note to bring a drink for myself tomorrow for our daily planning sessions.

“You mentioned there are a few changes to my schedule?”

I open the tablet. “Your nine o’clock, Dillon Hancock, messaged late last night to say his daughter is sick and he needs to rearrange. His wife is away… sorry, you probably don’t need all that detail. I’ve rescheduled his appointment for Friday morning. You had a slot free after your meeting with Pete and the suppliers.”

I look up as I sense his eyes on me.

“Better to know why someone has cancelled. Dillon is a good family man. Friday morning is fine. Be aware in future that my meetings with Pete and our suppliers sometimes overrun.”

“I’ll make a note. There’s currently a half-hour break between meetings,” I say.

“That’s fine then,” he says.

“Great,” I continue. “As a result, I’ve moved your ten o’clock this morning. Teresa is more than happy, as she has back-to-back meetings, and it allows her time between you and her next appointment.”

“Fine.”

I take that at face value, meaning a positive fine. It’s hard to tell. I’ve not got much to work with. Alex has his stoic look down to a fine art.

“Everything else is as it was.”

“Until it’s not,” he says. “Thank you, Brooke. I appreciate you moving Teresa forward. Are the reports I asked for ready?”

“They are. I have them on my desk.”

“Excellent. You can send them in with Teresa when she arrives,” he says, turning his attention back to his computer.

I take it as his signal that I’ve been dismissed.

I get up and make my way to the door.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that’s all.”

When he doesn’t even look up from whatever has suddenly caught his interest, I leave, making sure I don’t slam the door behind me.

I walk to my desk, moving the reports to where Teresa can see them as she passes. It’s only eight-thirty, and I feel like I’ve already run a marathon. Thinking, rethinking, then overthinking everything.

Breathe, Harper Frazer. Brooke has got this!

CHAPTER 18

ALEX

The door closes with a soft click, and I sink back into my chair. Brooke’s scent—her perfume, shampoo, shower gel or whatever it is—lingers in the air. It follows her around and is becoming embedded in my memory.

Asking her to stop calling me Alessandro wasn’t because I feel like I’m being reprimanded. From her lips, it sounds more like a lover’s caress, and I can’t have that with my PA, especially when she’s wearing another St Clair outfit that looks like it was designed solely for her.

Fuck! I’m spending far too much time fantasising about my way-too-young PA.

Callie was my buffer. But she’s no longer here. I need to learn to deal with Ms Brooke Feldmann all on my own.

I run a hand down my face.

How the hell did I find myself in this predicament?

Callie has a lot to answer for. I can try to blame her, but in the end, it was my decision. I don’t know what it is about Brooke, but I knew immediately that Callie wasn’t wrong, that she was going to be something special, able to do what none of the other experienced PAs could, especially if Friday’s party is anything to go by. How did she pull it off?

Shit.

When I set her the task of organising Callie’s party, I was half expecting her to come to me cap in hand and ask for my help. But no, instead, Little Miss Independent managed to do almost the impossible and create one of the best leaving parties this company has seen since my mother left, and in only one week. She also seems to have befriended half the company at the same time. On Friday night, I lost count of those singing her praises.

She’s intelligent, yes, but also focused and incredibly resourceful. Friday’s party is a prime example. In two weeks, she’s picked up what even an experienced PA would have struggled to grasp. I know I don’t work in the usual way, but she hasn’t even baulked. She’s tackled everything I’ve thrown at her, head-on. She recognises when something hasn’t worked and makes changes to correct it.

I’m not a coward. I’m the fucking CEO of one of the leading fashion houses in the world, but something about this young woman has got under my skin, and I can’t seem to pinpoint what it is.

And this morning, she beat me into the office. Her comment about jet lag… She obviously wanted to make a good impression, and she has, in more ways than I care to admit.

My phone flashes, letting me know I have an incoming call.

“I have David on line one,” Brooke says.

“Put him through,” I tell her, and wait for the click.

“Hey,” I say to my friend. “How are Callie and the baby?”

“Completely overwhelmed after Friday. That was some send-off you gave her.”

I smile. “Callie deserves it.”

“I know she does, having put up with your grumpy, demanding ass all these years.”

“What can I say?”

“That you’re meticulous and a perfectionist, not to mention confrontational and impatient.” He chuckles.

“The pot calling the kettle black. Probably the only reason you snagged Callie. She was used to me,” I fire back, knowing Callie and David fell hard, the moment they met. “Plus, it goes with the territory.”

A saying I grew up with, one that sums up the joys of being a CEO, comes to mind.

Nice is a biscuit, but it doesn’t get things done.

“And as for the reason for this call,” he says. “Callie wants to invite you over for dinner.”

“You mean she wants to interrogate me, check I’m not picking on Brooke, terrorising her?”

“Probably, but she’s going to invite the others too, so you won’t be alone. She wants something to fill her time. Organising a dinner party seemed like a good compromise.”

“Let me know when, and I’ll make sure I’m there. Or better still, have Callie talk to Brooke and add it to my calendar.”

“I will. Apparently, they’re going to meet up for lunch this week. Brooke has made quite the impression. How are you finding it… her? I know you hate change.”

“I’m adapting,” I say, wanting very much to change the subject.

“She seems very on the ball for someone so young.”

I can sense my friend fishing for information.

“Callie made a good call,” I say, redirecting the conversation and making David laugh.

“My wife is good at that, but don’t tell her I said so,” he says with a chuckle. “Did I see Aubrey’s back in town? You’re welcome to bring her as your plus one.”

Since my divorce, I’ve dated a string of women, including several models and actresses. In the circles I move in, they are the women I encounter the most. After my marriage ended, none of my relationships has lasted. I’m married to my job, according to my last girlfriend. Aubrey, on the other hand, has held on the longest. She is a successful model who has been involved in a couple of our campaigns. We met at a St Clair photoshoot, when the photographer we hired was being a diva. I turned up and made my presence felt. Aubrey was not shy and made her interest in me clear from the outset.

She’s beautiful and independent. She travels a lot, her job taking her around the world. We work because she never demands more than I’m willing to give.

“She’s back in the country for a couple of weeks,” I say, my tone noncommittal.

I’m unsure whether to invite her to dinner with my friends. We’re friends with benefits and introducing her to my close circle makes me worry that she might misunderstand and expect more.

“You want to keep her all to yourself. I get it. I’m just glad that after five years, you’ve found someone you want to spend time with,” David says, chuckling, misreading my reluctance. “I’ll get Callie to speak to Brooke then. I’d better go. I have a nine o’clock I’m going to be late for.”

“Speak soon,” I say, ending the call.

After Loretta divorced me, I threw myself into my work at St Clair. Taking over as CEO was my saving grace, giving me something to focus on when my personal life took a nosedive. I know my friends worry and think I’m married to my job, but it gives me purpose. I can admit now that I was a shit husband. Loretta deserved better, and I wasn’t there when she needed me. I’m glad she found Myles and has everything she desires, including her beautiful twin daughters, Beatrice and Carlotta.

I shake it off and shoot a message to Brooke, asking her to arrange two birthday gifts for the twins, who will be four in a couple of weeks. I also ask her to send flowers to Aubrey, thanking her for a fun weekend.

A knock. I glance up at the clocks on my wall. Nine a.m., Teresa is right on time.

CHAPTER 19

HARPER

Alex appears at his door, a frown marring his brow.

What now?

I click save on the presentation I’m preparing for this afternoon’s meeting. It’s been a long couple of weeks since Callie left, and I’ve barely had a chance to come up for air.

“Do you need anything?” I ask.

“I need my dinner suit collecting from the dry cleaners.”

There’s a long pause.

Okay then, that’s clearly my job.

“I need it for the charity event I’m attending this evening, and I’ve just received a message to say their usual delivery guy is off sick.”

I draw in a gentle breath and plaster a smile on my face.

“No problem. I can collect that for you. Just let me know where.”

He pulls out a ticket from his wallet and hands it to me.

I take it. The address and number are clearly visible.

“They’re short-staffed,” he says before turning and leaving me standing there holding the tiny receipt.

“A thank you would be nice,” I mutter under my breath, pleased when I hear his door shut with a click.

I close my eyes for a second.

Brooke Feldmann is meek and mild and does as she’s told.

She’s not someone who will remind her boss about the twenty reports he wants completed by the end of the day or point out that he’s asked her to accompany him to back-to-back meetings between one and five this afternoon. I groan at the thought of the evening ahead. While he’s swanning off to some charity event with the lovely Ms Lebrun, I’ll be stuck in the office finishing my to-do list.

Aubrey Lebrun is the beautiful model whose calls I’ve been fielding all week, after I sent her a large bunch of flowers at Alex’s request. Callie omitted ‘personal shopper’ and ‘errand runner’ from the job specification she wrote for me. Although I must admit, shopping for birthday presents for four-year-old twins was fun, and something I spent the evening doing from the comfort of my sofa.

“No problem, I’ll get right on it,” I say loudly, unsure whether he can hear me or not. Maybe I need to change my desk plaque from PA to PG - Personal Gofer.

I scowl at my desk. Oh well, there’s nothing to be done. What the bossman wants, the bossman gets.

Grabbing my smartphone, I pull up the NYC map app I downloaded when I arrived. I enter the address and realise the dry cleaner’s is quite literally a block away. Glancing out of the window, the sun is shining, and although it may not be the freshest of air, the idea of an autumn stroll is too good to turn down.

* * *

I wave to Lucia as I pass. She returns my greeting with a bright smile before I step out into the sunshine. I pause, closing my eyes and letting the late autumn sun sink into my skin. I let out a sigh before opening my eyes and joining the constant flow of people filling New York streets.

“Excuse me, Miss,” a woman’s voice comes from beside me, stopping me in my tracks.

My heart rate triples, making my head swim.

I half-turn, making sure my hair falls over my face, the way I’ve practised many times in the mirror to obscure my features.

“Excuse me, Miss,” she says again. “Could you spare a few moments of your time? We’re doing a television documentary on American fashion houses⁠—”

I hold up a hand, my expression neutral, despite my stomach flipping repeatedly.

“Sorry,” I say, surprised at how calm my voice sounds. “I’m in a rush. I have a doctor’s appointment, and I’m already late.”

I turn, walking away at pace.

The woman lets out a loud sigh behind me. “Damn, no one wants to talk to us.”

I’m clearly not the first person she’s approached this morning. Do all staff sign NDAs? Is that why Sophia thinks I’m safe within the confines of the office?

I turn the corner and slump against the building, my hand going to my chest, my breathing rapid and uneven. Several people harrumph as they’re forced to step around me.

Shit! Why on earth didn’t I get a taxi?

I push off and return to the flow of people, keeping my head down but checking the reflections in the buildings’ windows to ensure I’m not being followed. My phone beeps, and I jump. The navigation app announces, “You’ve reached your final destination.”

I dart inside the building and follow the signage to the dry cleaners.

“Can I help you?” a male voice comes from behind a hanging rail of plastic-wrapped garments.

“Hi, I’m here to collect a dinner suit for Alessandro Bianchi.”

The man’s head appears, and he smiles apologetically.

“Ah, you must be his new PA. Callie said she was going on maternity leave early. I’m Bryan.”

His face is weathered, but his smile is warm and welcoming.

I return it with one of my own.

“Hi, Bryan, I’m Brooke,” I say, my name coming much more easily now.

“Hi, Brooke. I’m sorry to have dragged you out. Unfortunately, the seasonal flu has taken out most of our staff. I know Mr Bianchi needs his suit for this evening. I offered to deliver it personally after I finish, but he said you’d come.”

Of course he did.

I smile through gritted teeth, which Bryan fails to notice as he’s already disappeared inside the maze of rails.

“Here you go,” he says a moment later, placing a suit carrier on the counter.

“Perfect,” I say, reaching into my bag.

“Nope, it’s all paid for. Mr Bianchi has an account with us.”

“Great. Thank you, Bryan. Have a good weekend.”

I scoop up the suit before making my way back into the main foyer.

Heat floods my body as I scan the hundreds of faces milling around. I clutch Alex’s suit tightly to my chest.

Oh crap.

He’s not going to be happy if I return it creased.

Making my way to the revolving doors, I step out into the sunshine. A cab pulls up to the kerb, its current passengers disembarking. I dart forward, grabbing the door.

“St Clair HQ,” I say, sinking into the back seat and pulling the door closed.

“That’s only a block away,” the cabbie complains.

“I’ll pay you triple the fare,” I say quickly. “And a tip if you can drop me outside the door.”

He turns in his seat and looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have, but then again, being on a potential kidnap list will do that to even the strongest of people.

“It’s your money,” he says, pulling out into the traffic.

I sit back and wait as we circle the block, letting out a deep sigh as we pull up twenty paces from the front entrance.

What on earth was I thinking?

Being at St Clair has made me sloppy. The possibility of being caught on camera… it doesn’t even bear thinking about. Elijah may have deleted all my old social media and influencer accounts, but there are enough photos of me out there to cross-reference. I’ve not exactly led a solitary life, having been raised in the public eye, despite my parents’ best efforts.

“Here you go,” he says.

I hand over the money as promised. He shakes his head but doesn’t refuse it.

“Have a lovely day,” I say, scooting over the seat and getting out.

“You too,” he says as I shut the door.

Twenty steps. My eyes scan the area for imminent danger, although what I’m looking for is anyone’s guess.

The cab pulls away, shocking me into motion, my breath whooshing out as I reach the building.

“Welcome back, Ms Feldmann,” the doorman says.

I shoot him a nervous smile. “Thanks, Pete, just collecting Mr Bianchi’s dry cleaning,” I say unnecessarily.

“Well, you have a nice day.”

“You too.”

My pulse only returns to normal once I’m back within the confines of the building and making my way to the elevator. I slump against the wall after using my access card to travel up to our floor.

My desk phone is ringing when I get there.

Shit, I forgot to divert the line.

I hang Alex’s suit on the coat rack before grabbing it.

“St Clair, Brooke speaking,” I say, slightly breathlessly.

“Hi, Brooke, it’s Mickey from the PR Team. Do you have the latest scheduling plan for the Spring collection photo shoots?”

“Hi, Mickey. I do. I’ve just got back to my desk,” I say, resting the phone receiver between my shoulder and my ear. “I can email it down to you.”

“Perfect, I knew you would. I seem to have misplaced it.”

“Not a problem,” I say.

Mickey is one of the team who has made me feel the most welcome.

“You’re a star.”

“Give me five minutes,” I say, hanging up and scribbling myself a note.

Grabbing Alex’s suit, I knock on his door.

“Come in.” His deep voice penetrates my chest and settles low in my stomach.

“Your suit,” I say, opening the door and stepping into the room.

“Hang it up over there.”

He waves a hand in the general direction of his personal bathroom and changing area, not bothering to look up from whatever he’s working on.

I don’t wait. Instead, I do as I’m told. My nerves are already stretched.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his question stopping me in my tracks.

I close my eyes for a second before turning and plastering a smile on my face.

“All good. There was a film crew outside doing a documentary on American fashion houses.”

The words spill out of me before I can stop them.

“There are often people outside. News crews during fashion weeks, documentary makers. Just ignore them. You’re not to discuss anything with anyone. HR should have explained that to you. They should have got you to sign an NDA.”

My hackles rise at the same time my stomach sinks.

Why the hell didn’t Sophia warn me? Film crews?

Maybe she thought she didn’t need to. I’m supposed to be staying inside, out of sight and taking cabs everywhere.

“I wouldn’t discuss anything, and I did sign an NDA,” I say, trying not to snap.

I’m not a complete idiot!

“Good.” He stares at me. “Have you completed the changes for this afternoon’s presentation?”

“I was just finishing them when you asked me to collect your suit. I should have them finalised within the next half an hour.”

“Send them through as soon as they’re done. We’ll need to leave in an hour.”

I’m not sure how many pairs of hands he thinks I have. But I leave quietly and return to my desk. I send Mickey the scheduling plan before completing the updates Mr High-and-Bloody-Mighty requested.

CHAPTER 20

HARPER

Benjamin is waiting when I exit my apartment building.

“Good morning, Ms Feldmann,” he says, holding open the door to Sophia’s Bentley.

“Good morning, Benjamin, lovely to see you again.”

“You too.”

I slide into the back seat and wait while he closes the door. Sophia’s invitation to join her for lunch came out of the blue. Yesterday was a long day. After collecting Alex’s suit from the dry cleaners and then working late into the evening, I didn’t have the mental capacity to come up with an excuse, so here I am, in her car, with her driver, heading out to her home.

“How’s it going?” Benjamin asks.

I look up, surprised. The previous few times he’s driven me, we’ve sat in silence.

“It’s been… crazy. I’m on a steep learning curve, but it’s fun. It’s keeping me busy and out of mischief,” I say with a smile.

“That’s good.”

“How about you? How long have you worked for the Bianchis?”

“About thirty years. Since Mrs Bianchi moved to the US and took over as CEO from her father.”

My eyes pop. “That’s a long time,” I say, although my parents have members of staff who’ve remained loyal for a similar amount of time. Betsy has run the kitchen since before I was born.

“They’re a good family. My wife works at the house, and Mrs Bianchi has supported my boys through university.”

Am I surprised? Not really. The woman has gone out of her way to assist an old friend’s daughter in her hour of need.

Benjamin and I talk all the way. He tells me about his sons, their wives and the grandchild due in the next couple of months. He tells me about the area, filling me in on its famous residents. The journey flies by, and before I know it, we’re pulling into the Bianchi driveway.

He opens the door for me, allowing me to climb out. The front door opens, and Sophia’s housekeeper is waiting.

“Mrs Bianchi is waiting for you in the sunroom. Can I take your jacket?”

“Thank you,” I say, shrugging out of my coat.

I follow her through the house. My mind returns to my first weeks in America when Sophia helped drill the details of my new life into me until answering questions became second nature.

“Brooke,” Sophia says, getting up and walking towards me, pulling me in for her usual hug.

“Sophia,” I say. “Thank you for the invitation. It’s lovely to see you.”

She smiles. “I assumed you could do with a day out of your apartment. Working is one thing, but too many days staring at the same four walls is enough to drive anyone stir crazy.”

She isn’t wrong.

Although I’m amazed at how readily she accepts that I’ve been following the rules she set out.

Is she spying on me?

Or does she know that every time I think about venturing out, I just think of The Seamstress and Sir Leonard, and those thoughts alone are enough to keep my arse planted firmly on the sofa.

“How have you been?” she asks.

“The past few weekends haven’t been too bad. I’ve kept myself busy with work. I spent the first weekend catching up on the things I needed to learn, and I took up baking.”

The lemon drizzle cake went down a storm. I now have requests for a variety of different baked goods.

“Last weekend I set about reorganising my wardrobe, and I ordered some callisthenics equipment online which was delivered a couple of days ago, so I can now work out at home.”

“You don’t use the gym at St Clair?”

I shake my head. I’ve never enjoyed working out with a full face of makeup.

“I’m not comfortable using it,” I say.

Sophia nods.

“I’ve had Elaine prepare us some lunch. You can tell me how it’s going at St Clair. I hope Sandro is treating you well.”

I freeze.

Please don’t tell me she wants me to spy for her.

I’m grateful she helped get me a job, but Alex is my boss, and we’re finally developing a stable working relationship.

Sophia laughs as if reading my mind. “The look on your face. I’ve no intention of asking you to spill company secrets. I trust my son and the way he runs the company. I simply want to know how you’re doing since Callie left. I’m sure it’s been intense.”

My shoulders relax, and I smile back.

“It has, but I’m loving the challenge. Everyone has been incredibly welcoming. Organising Callie’s party helped me meet a lot of people.” It seems like a lifetime ago now.

Sophia’s smile freezes. “There’ve been no issues? No fallout? I saw how much attention you were receiving that night. You made yourself quite visible.” My hackles rise. It’s not as if any of this is my fault. Her bloody son asked me to organise the party. I couldn’t exactly say no.

I shake my head. “None. I was petrified when Alessandro first set me the task, but Harvey did an amazing job with my hair, and as you said, my makeup has contoured my face. I sometimes even fail to recognise myself.”

Some of the tension in her shoulders loosens, and she smiles. This time, it reaches her eyes.

“I’m pleased to hear it. I was worried when Sandro told me what he’d asked you to do. I must admit, young lady, that was one hell of a send-off you organised. But somehow that doesn’t surprise me. Your mother always knew how to throw the best of parties.”

It’s my turn to smile at her mention of my mother.

“She did, does. She taught me everything I know.”

I laugh.

“Mum never said how you two know one another,” I say, unsure whether Sophia will be happy to share.

“We were at school together… good friends,” she says with a hint of a smile. “What feels like a lifetime ago.”

“She’s pretty awesome,” I say, my stomach clenching.

I’d like nothing more than one of my mother’s hugs right now, telling me everything is going to be okay.

Elaine appears. “Are you ready for lunch now, Mrs Bianchi?”

Sophia looks at me, and I shrug with a smile.

“That would be lovely, Elaine.”

She disappears, then reappears with several young women, all carrying large salad plates, which they place on the table.

“Thank you, ladies, that will be all.”

They disappear without another word, and we take our seats.

“This looks amazing,” I say, placing a napkin on my lap.

“Sandro said you had a run-in with a film crew yesterday outside the office.”

My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. Is this why I’ve been invited to lunch?

I put my fork down, shrinking slightly under Sophia’s gaze.

“He asked me to collect his suit for the charity event he was attending last night.”

“I know. He told me. What on earth were you thinking?”

I place my hands in my lap.

Is this a trick question?

Looking up, I meet her gaze. “I was thinking that my boss had asked me to collect his suit from the dry cleaners.”

She raises her eyebrows.

“What else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t exactly say, sorry, no can do. I can just see his face now.” I frown at Sophia. “I work for him. He’s my boss. What he says goes.”

Sophia tuts, shaking her head.

“That’s what I thought. Brooke, as Sandro’s PA, you have the power to delegate. You could have called downstairs and asked one of the gofers to collect it. It did not need to be you personally.”

I open and close my mouth a couple of times before inclining my head.

“I can do that?”

Sophia chuckles. “As Sandro’s PA, darling, you can do a lot of things. But that’s not why I’ve raised it. You need to be more careful. That could have been a disaster. Imagine if they hadn’t asked and simply filmed you instead.”

My stomach flips at the thought. “I know.” I sigh. “I was awake half the night thinking about it.”

“You dropped the ball.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My son is perceptive. Your response did not match the level of concern he was expecting.”

I know I was shaken when I got back to the office, probably more than a little. I’d nearly spilt my water twice just by lifting the cup. Had he noticed?

Shit!

“When did he tell you this?”

“Last night at the charity gala we attended. My son values honesty, directness and authenticity. With him, what you see is what you get. If he finds out about any of this, it could cause problems between us, and I will not stand for that. I’ve put my neck on the line to help you. Do you understand? If it’s a choice between you and my son…”

I nod.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I understand, and I’m sorry. I promise to be more careful in future.”

She nods before picking up her knife and fork. “Make sure you are. You must stay out of the public domain. As I explained before, St Clair is a safe space. Cabs everywhere, no more strolls around the block. No nights out. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” I say.

I force food into my mouth, my appetite now gone.

Is she kidding me?

She gets me a job that involves me facing people every day, has not shared my enormous secret with her son, my boss, and announces it’s a huge problem if he does find out, but chastises me when he puts me in a vulnerable position that could expose this whole damn shit show.

Don’t worry, Harper, it seems you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t!

We eat the rest of our lunch in silence. I now understand why I was invited.

Lunch with the perfect side of a dressing-down.

Does she have any idea how hard this is for me? Has she even thought about it from my perspective? But then she probably just sees Francesca Frazer’s youngest daughter, the rebel and delinquent. Again, my own fault.

I’ll stay hidden, despite slowly going stir-crazy. As someone who has always been socially driven, sitting at home alone with no friends to turn to is driving me insane. But thanks for the nugget of wisdom about my position as PA. It would have saved me several hours of extra work last night after everyone had gone home if I’d known I could simply call downstairs.

As if sensing she’s pushed me as far as she can, Sophia moves on to more neutral topics, and before I know it, Benjamin has arrived to return me to my apartment.

“Thank you for lunch, Sophia,” I say, returning her hug.

I need to reset. I made a mistake, not one I’ll repeat. The worst part is that I now have additional pressure. Alex cannot find out who I really am. I owe Sophia a lot. She offered me refuge when I needed it most. I can’t let her down.

“Take care,” Sophia says. “And remember what I’ve said.”

I step away only to feel her hand on my arm. “It won’t be forever.” Her voice has softened.

I press my lips together and nod, only to find myself pulled in for another hug.

“I just want to keep you safe. I’m not trying to be difficult,” she whispers against my ear.

I pull back, meeting her gaze. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

Her hand comes up and pats my cheek.

“Safe trip back,” she says, stepping away.

Benjamin is waiting by the car.

“Good lunch, Miss?”

“Lovely, thank you, Benjamin,” I say, getting in.

He catches my eye in the mirror. “Would you like me to put on the radio, or would you prefer silence?”

I offer him a weak smile. “The radio would be lovely, thank you.”

He smiles and switches on one of the local channels. One of Caleb’s favourite songs is playing.

I send him a message.

ME:

Hey.

CALEB:

Hey, you. How are you doing?

ME:

I’m okay, tired. Sorry if I’ve disturbed your evening.

CALEB:

No, the boys are all around. It’s poker night.

Don’t worry, I’ve told them it’s a business call.

ME:

I hate we have to lie to everyone.

CALEB:

It’s not going to be forever. You sure you’re okay?

Caleb has always been perceptive when it comes to the feelings of others.

ME:

It’s been a busy week.

CALEB:

Real work can be a shock to the system.

He follows his message with a whole host of laughing emojis.

ME:

Haha.

Been to lunch with Sophia and I’m heading home. Going to put my feet up and catch up on Buffy reruns.

CALEB:

Enjoy. We miss you.

ME:

Miss you too. Love to April.

I put my phone in my bag.

The silence has become deafening, but the radio is soothing.

I should be grateful, but the isolation is taking its toll since Callie left. No one to really talk to. Kat is heading to the Maldives, and I don’t want to worry Mum with my woes.

I brought this on myself.

I stare out of the window and listen to the endless stream of adverts. Local concerts I can’t attend. Insurance companies I don’t need. Teeth aligners promising me a million-dollar smile…Night school.

Unlock your potential with evening classes designed for busy adults. If you want to develop new skills or change careers, our flexible night school programmes could be the answer. Register today for upcoming classes!

My muscles begin to uncurl as my heart rate picks up.

Could I?

It’s a risk.

I sink back into the seat, possibilities whirling through my brain.

CHAPTER 21

ALEX

Laughter echoes through the door.

What the…

It’s not the first time today, and the sound is distracting. I sigh heavily, my shoulders tensing.

This is a place of work, not a fucking social club.

Enough. This has got to stop. I never had this problem with Callie. She was popular and friendly, but her laughter didn’t rattle around my head, destroying my concentration. Brooke needs to rein it in and be more professional.

I open the office door. “Brooke,” I snap before stopping short when I see Dante standing next to her desk.

What the hell?

They turn to face me, neither having the good grace to look guilty.

“Hey,” Dante says. “I was in the area and thought I’d pop in and see if you’re free for lunch?” He turns to Brooke. “However, Brooke here said you were busy and could not be disturbed,” he says, and there’s no missing the lopsided smile curling one corner of his mouth.

No fucking way! He’s flirting with her!

I cross my arms and stare at one of my longest-standing friends.

“So, you decided to distract her from her work instead,” I say, wincing at the bite in my tone.

Dante grins. “Just getting to know Callie’s replacement,” he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Need to know who to get onside. I was just telling her how we met.”

Oh no, he wasn’t…

I tense as he turns and grins at Brooke. She answers with a genuine smile, and I suck in a breath as my hands clench.

“Well, you can stop distracting her now and distract me instead,” I say, stepping back and motioning for him to enter my office. I turn and shoot Brooke a look that wipes the smile from her face. “Have you finished those reports?” I ask.

“I sent them through half an hour ago,” she replies, her tone quiet, as if she’s trying to pacify a feral animal.

“Good. Can you arrange for Monty to send up some lunch for us both?”

“I’ll get right on it,” she says with all the efficiency I would expect from a PA.

No arguments, no calling me out on my shit. But it’s impossible not to miss the fire burning in her eyes. I start to turn away and pause.

“There seems to have been a lot of noise out here this morning,” I say, without mentioning her laughter.

She rises, and brings over a sheet of paper.

“You’ve had quite a few visitors,” she says, holding out a list.

I scan it. Sue from HR and Mickey from Public Relations, both people she was right to give her time to. The last name on the list, however, makes me tense. Teresa, our Artistic Director. She should have been put through.

“Teresa came to see me? Why didn’t you let me know?”

Brooke’s head jerks at my tone.

“Well…um, you told me you didn’t want to be disturbed,” she says, biting her bottom lip and swallowing.

I harrumph, knowing I’m being unreasonable, but seeing her flirt with Dante has me grinding my teeth.

“When another director comes to see me, they trump everything. Do I make myself clear?”

Brooke drops her chin. “Crystal. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. Would you like me to get her on the telephone and reschedule? She said it wasn’t urgent, but…”

“I’ll call her when I’m finished with Dante,” I snap. “Order our lunch and try not to get distracted any further.”

I turn away, only to find my friend scowling at me from my office. I walk towards him, without a backward glance. I close the door with a loud click.

“That was a bit harsh,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not sure she deserved that.”

“You know nothing,” I snap.

“Ouch, someone clearly got out of bed on the wrong side this morning,” he says, not letting my sour mood tarnish his own. “Want to talk about it?”

I drop into my chair, the backrest springing me forward. I run a hand through my hair, watching a smirk form on my friend’s face.

“She’s getting to you?”

I scowl at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Brooke. That incredibly beautiful young woman who is sitting outside your office. The one who’s taken over from Callie. Who is lovely by the way and has a very professional manner.”

“I know who Brooke is,” I snap.

I ignore the fact that he called her beautiful. It’s not like I can deny it. I have eyes in my head. But she’s more than that, she’s also highly intelligent and super-efficient.

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, knowing the more I deny it, the worse he’ll get. He’s been my friend for over twenty years. I met him at university in London, and we have been friends ever since. He was my best man at my wedding to Loretta and supported me in the aftermath of my divorce.

When I look up, Dante is sitting back in the chair opposite, relaxed and watching me.

“What?” I say.

He chuckles. “Oh, man. How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re attracted to her.”

“Keep your voice down for Christ’s sake,” I hiss.

“Are you going to deny it?” he asks with a shrug.

“She’s closer in age to my niece,” I say.

Dante shakes his head. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“That’s all the answer you’re going to get. I’m not playing this game with you.”

“Okay, how’s Aubrey? When are you going to finally introduce us? How long’s it been now? A year?”

I quirk an eyebrow as a knock sounds at the door.

“Come in,” I say.

I’m surprised when Molly, one of the kitchen staff, enters. I’ve only learned her name recently after hearing Brooke talk to her. I stifle my groan.

Bloody Brooke.

“Come in, Molly,” I say to the young woman hovering in the doorway.

“Er, I have your lunch, sir. Where would you like me to put it?”

Her eyes shift nervously between Dante and me.

Oh hell, I’m terrifying the staff now. And why isn’t Brooke bringing in our lunch?

I motion to the large circular table in the corner of the room, concerned that her hand is shaking so badly she’ll upend the tray if I ask her to come any closer.

She bobs in a near curtsey, and I notice my friend bite his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud.

What the fuck!

Molly lays the table as though she’s serving in a five-star restaurant before walking backwards towards the door.

“Molly, can you send Brooke in please?” I say.

She nods again before scurrying to the exit, closing the door behind her.

Dante looks at me, his lips twisting as he tries to contain his laughter.

“Don’t,” I say, shooting him a look that he ignores. His laughter bursting free.

A knock sounds.

“Come in,” I say, glaring at my friend.

“You wanted me?” Brooke appears at the doorway without a trace of an apology, her eyes almost goading me.

My cock hardens, and I grit my teeth.

“Dante wanted to thank you for arranging our lunch.”

Brooke turns and gives him the warmest of smiles.

“You’re welcome,” she says. “I hope you enjoy it. I had them send up their steak specials.”

Dante smiles back, and my spine stiffens.

“Fantastic, I love steak,” he says smoothly, his eyes locked on hers.

I cough, determined to break the spell.

“That will be all.”

Her gaze returns to mine, her eyes hardening. “Enjoy your lunch,” she says before turning and leaving. The door shuts firmly behind her.

Dante chuckles as he swivels in his chair.

“Where were we? Oh yes, the lovely Aubrey?”

“Shut up and eat,” I say, getting up and moving to the table where Molly has laid out our food.

To his credit, he doesn’t push me on the topic of Brooke, apparently satisfied he’s made his point, although I’m not sure what he was aiming for. I’d have to be blind not to notice how attractive she is, but there’s also the whole boss-subordinate line. One I’ll never cross. I also don’t want Dante doing what David did with Callie. I’m not here to provide my friends with a dating pool!

Shit.

Since when did I become possessive of my staff? Maybe because I know he’s not looking to settle down and is one of New York’s most prolific playboys. He would eat someone as young and inexperienced as Brooke alive, probably breaking her heart and leaving me to pick up the pieces.

At nearly forty, Dante, like me, is at a different stage in his life. He has a master’s in business and runs his own successful investment firm. He spends his days rubbing shoulders with politicians and world leaders. He doesn’t need someone rudderless, someone who hasn’t completed her education and has chosen to travel the world rather than settle down and find her path in life.

After lunch, I escort Dante to the elevator, ignoring the way Brooke looks up from her desk and smiles as he says goodbye and wishes her a pleasant day.

Bastard.

I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me, and I hate to think of the ribbing I’m going to get from the others when he fills them in.

He clasps my shoulder as the elevator doors open.

“Don’t be too hard on her, or yourself,” he says cryptically, stepping inside before I can respond.

I walk back towards my office. Brooke steps around her desk.

“The report Mickey brought up. I’ve gone through it and annotated the areas I think you may want to look over, and Sue wanted your approval on some new hires?”

It doesn’t surprise me she queries the latter.

“If we’re hiring anyone for our creative teams, they have to go through additional checks,” I explain. “Espionage is a real thing in this industry and more common than you can imagine.”

Her eyes widen. “Right,” she says. “She said she’s placed the CVs in the relevant directory. Do you need me to do anything with them?”

Her question surprises me. She’s stepping into Callie’s role as though she’s worked for me far longer than she has. “No, that’s fine. I’ll look over them later. Let Sue know you’ve told me they’re there.”

I move off towards my office, needing to put some space between us. I should apologise for being short with her, but I need our power balance to remain in place. She’s shaping up well and will, I’m in no doubt, become a top-class PA, but she’s only here for the short term and has a lot to learn about life.

“If any more directors come calling, make sure I know about it,” I say.

“Of course,” she replies, and I swear she says, under her breath, “Jackass.”

“Did you say something?” I ask, turning.

“Not at all. Now I know, I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Good,” I say, smothering my smile as I enter my office.

CHAPTER 22

ALEX

The elevator pings, the doors sliding open, revealing the dimly lit corridor. I step out and head towards my office. It’s nine thirty. My meeting with Teresa and Elise, our Creative Director, ran longer than I expected. But we achieved a lot.

I round the corner and draw up short. The lights around my office are bright. I scan the area, noticing Brooke’s computer is still on, and I can hear singing coming from the kitchen. I bite my lip as she hits an off-key note to an old rock song I recognise but can’t recall the name of. Unable to stop myself, I head towards the kitchen, pausing in the doorway.

Brooke is jumping around, playing air guitar while the coffee machine gurgles happily in the corner.

I cough, and she jumps. Her hand goes to her chest as she spins around to face me.

“Oh fuck!” she shrieks, bending double. “You scared the shit out of me.” Her hand flies to her mouth. “Oh shit… sorry,” she says again.

I wonder if it’s the swearing she’s apologising for, or something else.

She straightens, her cheeks flushed. “Er, sorry. I wasn’t expecting you back,” she says a little breathlessly.

“Clearly,” I say, and her cheeks darken further under my gaze. “You’re here late?”

Her eyes drift to the clock, widening.

“Is that the time already? No wonder I need another coffee.”

“Brooke,” I say, trying to pull her into the present. She appears jittery. “Maybe it’s not another coffee you need. Maybe you need to go home.”

Her eyes clash with mine, and I can’t quite read what I see there… reluctance?

“I just wanted to finish off the reports you sent me.”

It’s my turn to frown. “I sent those to you at five thirty,” I say. “I was expecting you to do them in the morning.”

She smiles, and something in my chest clenches.

“But Dominic Western rang. He wants to pull tomorrow morning’s meeting forward by an hour. He also asked if I’d add some additional points and print out the reports ready. Your schedule said you were free…” Her voice tapers off, getting quieter, until it’s barely a whisper. “I didn’t think it would be a problem, but if it is… I just wanted to get the reports done, so they were ready.”

I stare at her before snapping myself out of it.

“It’s not a problem. It was a good call.”

The tension drains from her shoulders. Shit, I’ve got her second-guessing every move. I can’t tell her I’m more annoyed at Dominic for assuming it was okay to use my PA to make last-minute changes to the report when he has his own, perfectly capable one. The problem is, I know Dominic’s PA likes to leave on the dot at five thirty, so she wouldn’t have been around after he reviewed the latest report this evening.

“I’ve nearly finished,” she says, injecting some cheer into her voice. “I just wasn’t expecting you.”

Clearly, if the singing is anything to go on.

“I have a few things I need to finish before heading home,” I lie, not wanting to leave her alone in the office.

“Can I make you a coffee?” she asks as I move towards the door.

“That would be great,” I say over my shoulder.

I head to my office, reconnect my laptop to the monitor and open my emails. They have all been grouped and filed, including the email from Dom requesting that tomorrow’s meeting be moved. He and I will discuss it after the meeting. Brooke may be the newest member of the team, but no one takes liberties without checking with me first.

I scan the items he’s asked to be included in the report. They include things we’ve already shelved but that he continues to push for. I crack my neck. This is getting tiresome. He’s been here since my grandfather’s day, although he was a young man then. He toed the line with my mother, but since I took over, he’s tried to leverage his seniority.

I look up as Brooke enters carrying my coffee and a bottle of water. She places both on the desk beside me.

“Have you eaten?” I ask suddenly.

“Er, no. I’m going to grab something when I get home,” she says, her surprise clear.

“How much longer are you going to be with the presentation and reports?” I ask.

It was no small task Dom had set her.

“About another hour, if I print them off tonight.”

“Chinese?” I say.

Her eyes skim over my face, as if checking to see if it’s a trick question.

“Brooke, would you like Chinese if I order some?” I ask again. “I’m starving and won’t be bothered to cook when I get home.”

“If you’re going to order anyway, then yes, I’d love some,” she admits, making me want to high-five the air.

“Any preferences?”

“Black bean beef with noodles,” she says.

“Anything else?”

She laughs, the sound shooting straight through me. “With the portion sizes here, I doubt I’ll even be able to finish that.”

It’s my turn to chuckle. I remember when I first arrived in the US after Mother and Father had moved here. I’d been surprised by the portion sizes, although, as a growing lad, I’d loved the extra food.

“You finish up, and I’ll order us a takeout.”

She starts to leave, then turns back. “Thank you. You’re right. I doubt I’ll feel like cooking when I get home.”

She doesn’t wait for a reply, instead heading out to her desk. I pull up the food-delivery app on my phone and place our order.

Twenty minutes.

I ring down to the front desk, where the overnight security guard is stationed.

“Tony, I have a food delivery coming in,” I say as soon as he answers.

“No problem, Mr Bianchi. Would you like me to call you or send them up?”

The elevators are restricted, so he will need to swipe them up. “Send them up.”

“No problem, sir.”

I end the call and sit back, scanning over my emails. I hear Brooke return to her desk, having left the door open. Her fingers tap across the keyboard as she continues with the updates. After another ten minutes, she gets up, probably heading to the printer.

The elevator pings five minutes later.

“Evening, Mr Bianchi. Where would you like it?” the young man carrying our order says.

I motion to the table where Dante and I ate, retrieving my wallet before I move around my desk. I pull out a tip and place it in his hand. His eyes widen.

“Wow, thank you, Mr Bianchi,” he says, his eyes glowing as he looks down.

“You’re welcome,” I say.

He moves to the door, sliding the money into his pocket as he passes Brooke.

“Evening,” he says, tipping his head in her direction, his cheeks turning red.

Oh no, even the delivery guy has a bloody crush on her. Is there no one unaffected by this woman? Then again, he’s probably only a few years younger than she is.

“The food is ready,” I say, realising I need to swipe him back downstairs. “I’ll be right back.”

I catch up with him just as he makes it to the elevator.

“I need to swipe you down,” I say.

“Thank you.” We wait in silence for the elevator. When it finally arrives, he steps inside, and I swipe my pass before pressing the button for the ground floor.

“Thanks again,” I say.

The doors close, and I make my way back to my office.

Brooke has been busy while I’ve been gone.

“I got us a couple of plates,” she says. “I’ll just grab some and go back to my desk.”

“Stop, take a seat and eat. The reports can wait.”

She looks at me, but doesn’t argue, instead pulling out a chair and sitting her arse down.

She spoons out some of the noodles and black bean beef as I take a seat opposite her.

“That was a nice thing you did for him,” she says, making me look up.

I find her watching me.

I shrug. “I’m not always an ogre,” I say. “Most of the guys who work for this restaurant are trying to put themselves through college,” I add, trying to lighten the conversation, not wanting to get into this with her.

She inclines her head slightly. “You’re not an ogre. You’re meticulous, disciplined. Some might say a workaholic, a perfectionist, but there’s nothing wrong with that. You run an international, multi-billion-dollar business. I would expect no less, it goes with the territory… I can imagine.”

She speaks with confidence. It’s as if she’s experienced it firsthand, but I think back to her CV and realise I must be imagining it. She can’t understand the pressure someone like me is under.

“It’s kind of you to say so,” I say drolly, making her chuckle.

She takes a mouthful of food and groans in delight, and my eyes instantly drop to her lips.

“Sorry, but this is amazing,” she says when she looks up to find me staring at her.

“The best in this part of town. Believe me, I’ve tried them all.”

“I knew it… Workaholic,” she teases.

“What about you?” I ask.

“What about me?”

“How are you finding New York? Have you done much sightseeing?”

I think back to the conversation I overheard between her and the delivery guy.

She shakes her head. “I’ve been concentrating on work.”

Her words hit me in the chest, stirring guilt over everything I’ve asked her to do.

“Where’s your boyfriend tonight?”

She looks up, her brow wrinkling.

“Boyfriend?”

“I thought you were dating a New Yorker?”

Her brows draw closer together, her nose scrunching, until understanding dawns, and she smiles, her eyes twinkling.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she admits. “I used that as an excuse to divert unwanted attention.”

It’s my turn to look confused.

Ah, the delivery guy was not her type.

Stop.

I don’t need to think about the type of men Brooke Feldmann is attracted to.

She smiles. “I don’t think that, with the hours I work here, that I have much time for romance.” She looks up at the clocks on the wall before her gaze drifts back to the takeaway cartons. “Not that I mind. I didn’t come here for that.”

It’s ten thirty on a Thursday evening.

I stare at her, my chin dipping as I run a hand over the back of my neck.

Didn’t come here for that?

What twenty-four-year-old doesn’t want some form of romance, or even sex? I know I did at that age. My mind begins to wander. Has she been badly hurt in the past? Does she have a boyfriend back in England? Am I really working her so hard that she has no life outside the office? Maybe she doesn’t date, just picks men up for sex?

My mouth goes dry at the thought. I can’t imagine she hasn’t been asked out since she arrived here. I’ve seen the looks she gets when she walks through the various departments. The guys are like puppy dogs, their jaws hitting the floor as they pant. My temperature rises as I imagine her writhing underneath or on top of one of the men who works here. I swallow my groan.

Shit!

Even my friend pointed out how attractive she is.

I pick up my water and down half of it.

“Are you all right?” The concern in her voice makes me even more jittery.

“Fine, it went down the wrong way,” I say.

We eat the rest of our meal in silence.

Brooke gets up, collecting our plates, while I reseal the open cartons and place them in the bag, moving towards the bin.

“Are you throwing that out?” she asks.

“Do you want to take it home?”

She grins. “Way too good to waste,” she says, holding out her hand. “I’ve missed good takeaway.”

I pass the bag over, our fingers brushing, sending shards of awareness up my arm.

“My driver will drop you home when you’ve finished up,” I say without thinking.

“It’s okay, I can order a cab.”

“No,” I say more sharply than I intend. “It’s nearly eleven o’clock at night. We’ll drop you home.”

“Thank you.” She lifts the plates she’s carrying. “I’ll just put these in the dishwasher and set it going.”

I don’t want to argue with her. Instead, I turn back to my desk.

When she’s out of sight, I grip the back of my neck and massage out some of the tension lodged there.

God help me.

CHAPTER 23

HARPER

It’s eight by the time I drag myself into the office, feeling like I left only five minutes ago. Alex is already here, his door open, and I can see him sitting at his desk. After hanging up my coat and bag, I head to the kitchen. Daphne, Teresa’s PA, is already there.

“Morning,” she says cheerfully.

“Morning,” I say.

“Ouch, you look like you had a rough night,” she says. “I hope it was with someone tall, dark and gorgeous positioned between your thighs.”

I chuckle awkwardly, flicking on the coffee machine.

“If only,” I say, leaning back against the counter. “I was in here until eleven, finishing up some reports.”

She wrinkles her nose and grunts.

“Well, that just sucks,” she says. “I look forward to the day you tell me you met someone and got your rocks off. You’re taking this job far too seriously. Maybe you need to come out with me and some of the other girls. We’ll get you out there.”

I shudder at the thought. Callie warned me about Daphne and her posse. They’re wild. I’ve been a party girl, but even I have boundaries. From what she’s told me, anything goes in their hunt for a man.

“That’s kind, but…”

I don’t add that I was here with Alex, someone tall, dark, and incredibly handsome, even as a joke, because I know Daphne loves to gossip, and the last thing I need is to be caught up in the rumour mill. I’m not sure he would see the funny side either.

Daphne smiles, but there’s a slight edge to it. The problem is, when you keep turning people down, they start to take offence.

“Maybe one day. You don’t want people to think you’re pining over the boss.”

I stare at her wide-eyed and force out a laugh, something I’ve perfected over the years when sidestepping questions from members of the press.

“I’ll admit he’s good-looking, but don’t you think he’s a bit old for me? Not to mention far too serious.”

She stares at me for a second, then grins, her face relaxing.

“True, I bet he folds his socks and boxers. Probably has a team of people to do it for him.” She smiles before her expression becomes more serious. “Just checking. You wouldn’t be the first. Evelyn from the secretarial pool stepped in for Callie last year when she was sick. She thought she’d won the lottery when she was sent upstairs. They were working late one night… she thought… I’m sure you know what I mean.” She sniffs. “It didn’t end well. He turned her down flat, and she’s back in the secretarial pool.”

“Really? That’s awful,” I say, shocked.

“Yes, poor thing, she thought it was her way out,” Daphne replies.

I shake my head, meeting her gaze.

“No, I mean, poor Alex. That’s not okay. The office is supposed to be a safe space.”

No wonder he’s the way he is, reserved and distant. Sexual harassment goes both ways and is not something that should be laughed at or gossiped about in the kitchen.

Daphne flicks her hair, clearly not seeing it from his point of view.

“You better take him his coffee.”

“I’ll catch you later,” I say, not wanting to make an enemy, but I’m also not going to stand there and let someone gossip about me or anyone else.

I grab the coffee and head towards his office. He’s sitting at his desk, staring at his screen, a frown marring his brow.

“Morning, Alex,” I say, placing the coffee on his desk.

He looks up. “Morning, Brooke. Is everything ready for our nine o’clock?”

“It is. The reports are printed, and the presentation is saved on the group drive in your folder.”

He nods.

“Will there be anything else? If not, I’ll go and check emails,” I ask.

“Don’t worry, I’ve already done it.”

I look up, meeting his gaze. He smiles, my heart somersaulting in my chest.

“You were here until eleven. We have a meeting at nine.”

“But…”

Shit, I should have been in at seven. The only problem was that Mum rang, followed by Kat.

“Don’t look so worried. I woke up early, and after going to the gym, I decided to come in,” he says.

Does the man never sleep?

He must have been in at the crack of dawn, especially after having his driver drop me at home first.

“Is there anything else you’d like me to do?” I ask, suddenly feeling off-kilter, since my morning routine has changed.

“Get yourself a coffee and take five minutes,” he says. “I’ll be having words with Dominic about these last-minute changes.”

It’s then I realise he has the new presentation open in front of him.

I leave, not sure whether I’ve done anything wrong, but I do as he says. Distracted by my conversation with Daphne, I only made one coffee. I return to the kitchen, relieved to find it empty.

When I make it back to my desk, his door is closed, so I pull up his emails and schedule, noting down the changes. I drink some coffee before flicking through the reports, checking everything is in order, which I know it is because I’ve already gone through them five times.

I look up when his door opens, surprised when Elise steps out.

“I’ll leave it with you then,” she says, shooting me a smile as she passes.

I’ve only met her a couple of times, but her designs and talent are world-renowned.

“Ready to go?” Alex says, appearing a moment later.

“Absolutely.”

* * *

The meeting is long. I take copious notes and make a recording that I’ll later transcribe. Alex likes accurate records.

“Dominic, these additional changes,” he says.

“Yes, I felt we needed to readdress them.”

“By having my PA work late into the evening? Where was Sasha? We already agreed they’d be dealt with later?”

He shoots a look at Dominic’s PA, her cheeks flaming under his scrutiny.

Dominic bristles. “Well, if she didn’t have time to do it, she could have said.”

He shoots me a look, and I drop my gaze. This is not my argument.

“Next time, check with me first,” Alex says, his voice letting everyone in the room know it’s not up for debate.

By the time we leave, my nerves are frayed. I collect the recording and make a note to ask whether the dressing down should be included. I’m hoping not. It was awkward enough living through it once.

“Brooke, can you come into my office, please?” Alex says as we return.

I follow him in, taking a seat when he motions for me to do so.

“If anyone, and I mean anyone but me, asks you to do work, let me know. You’re not one of the pool secretaries, and I’ll not have you treated as such.”

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t be sorry, just don’t allow it to happen again. You’re my right hand and, as such, will be treated with the respect owed to your position.”

I’m surprised by the conviction in his tone.

I nod, not sure what else to say.

“On another note, Elise came by this morning. We need to visit one of our suppliers in Italy.”

“You’d like me to organise the itinerary?”

“Yes, but Elise thinks it would be a good idea for you to come with us.”

I glance up, only to find him watching me. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Elise’s number one, Nolan, would usually come with us, but he’s got a family emergency to contend with.”

I open and close my mouth. Did Alex just say he wants me to accompany him and Elise? To Italy? To get a front-row seat to the inner workings of a fashion house and its suppliers?

“Uh, okay,” I say slowly, not sure what to make of this revelation.

My heart rate picks up with both excitement and anticipation, as the enormity begins to sink in. Italy means airports, lounges and commercial flights. It means increasing my visibility risk. And then there’s my security detail…

Shit!

My stomach roils at the thought, sweat trickling down my spine as my internal temperature soars.

“You don’t look thrilled,” he says, moving around his desk.

“I am. Thrilled that is… It’s amazing… It’s just… I wasn’t expecting it,” I say, trying to cover up whatever tension he’s seeing.

Sophia is going to kill me. The Seamstress is probably going to want to join her.

“I’ll send you the itinerary Teresa, Elise and I discussed last night. Any questions, let me know, but I’ll leave it to you to organise everything else.”

I stand up. “On it,” I say. “And thank you for the opportunity,” I lie, my stomach turning over. I need to get out of here before I embarrass myself and lose my breakfast.

I return to my desk and sip from my water bottle until my nerves settle.

Shit, shit, shit!

I pick up my phone and fire Sophia a message.

ME:

Alessandro wants me to go to Italy with him on business.

Three dots appear and disappear, my nerves singing as I await her reply.

SOPHIA:

I’m not surprised. It will be fine. You’ll be flying business or first class, which will reduce your exposure. I’ll arrange for Harvey to re-cut and colour your hair. I take it your travel documents are in order?

ME:

Yes

SOPHIA:

It’s not ideal, but there’s nothing that can be done without raising questions.

ME:

Okay

I’m not sure what else to reply. I look at Alex’s door and sigh. Come on, Brooke, you’ve got this.

* * *

By the end of the day, I’m exhausted. I’ve used my socialite and influencer skills to plan every detail of our itinerary, from accommodations to where we’ll be dining. I sit back after sending it to Elise and Alex for feedback and any amendments they may require.

After receiving it, Alex sends me home, telling me I need some downtime after my monster workday yesterday. He appears to be more relaxed in my company today, less grumpy. It feels as if our relationship has finally turned a corner and he’s starting to trust my abilities.

Entering my apartment, I throw down my bag, catching sight of myself in the mirror. My features look drawn and tired, but then stress will do that to someone.

Before I can think better of it, I grab my keys and a cup and head into the hallway. I knock loudly on the door opposite. It opens instantly, and I come face-to-face with a middle-aged man who stares at me, wide-eyed.

I open my mouth to speak, but he pulls me inside, looking up and down the corridor before shutting the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” he says, his British accent surprising me.

“I need to speak to you,” I say, clutching the cup in my hand.

His eyes drop, and he smirks. “Please tell me you weren’t going to ask for a cup of sugar?”

I shrug. “I wasn’t really thinking, but coming empty-handed didn’t really cross my mind.”

“What’s so important that you had to break protocol?”

“I’m flying to Italy next week with work.”

He opens, then closes his mouth, a frown creasing his forehead.

“And you can’t get out of it?”

I sigh. “Not without raising some serious questions.”

“Shit,” he says, running a hand over his mouth, before shooting me a look of apology.

Another guy chooses that moment to emerge from what I assume is the bedroom.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” His accent is American.

“Nice to meet you too,” I say, both men ignoring me.

“We have a problem. Her job is taking her to Italy.”

The other guy runs a hand through his hair. It’s then that I recognise him. He’s one of the porters at St Clair. He delivers the post.

“Don’t say it,” he warns, and I close my mouth, holding up a hand.

The British guy moves to a phone and picks it up.

He waits for someone to answer and fires off a string of numbers and letters.

“Our asset needs to fly to Italy next week with work … yes, she knocked on the door … what was I supposed to do? … Yes, she’s seen Mitch …”

He pauses, obviously listening to the reply.

“Fine. I’ll get the details and send them across.”

He ends the call and turns to face me.

“Give me the details. There’ll be a team waiting to cover you on the other end.”

Some of the tension I’ve been holding onto drains from my shoulders.

“Do you have a pen?”

He hands me his phone and opens a specific app.

“Type it in there. Paper is dangerous.”

I nod and enter all the details of the trip, I’ve spent the day organising including flights, hotels, factories and restaurants.

When I hand it back to him, he glances down. “I’ll send this across. Now give me the cup.”

My brows furrow, and he shakes his head.

“You came across for sugar. You need to leave with some,” he says as if I’m stupid.

I hand him the cup, and he walks over to the kitchen, pouring some sugar from their bag into it before returning it to me.

“If I need to contact you again?” I ask. “No one told me what to do.”

“You shouldn’t need to. We’re always watching, just so you know.”

“I appreciate it,” I say, and he smiles.

“We’ll keep you safe until we can get you home,” he tells me, his expression softening.

“Thank you.”

It’s only as I walk back across the corridor and enter my apartment that I realise I’m starting to enjoy it here. I’m starting to enjoy my job and the people I’ve met. I don’t like being a virtual prisoner, but for the first time in my life, I can be me. I’m not looking over my shoulder to see if a member of the press or public is waiting to photograph me, or twist something I’ve said. Here, I’m just me, and now that Alessandro is being less sharp with me, I may actually enjoy my time in New York.

CHAPTER 24

ALEX

Elise and Brooke are deep in conversation when I return to the airport lounge.

Our flight has been delayed by an hour, which is frustrating. I’m not a fan of airports or flying, having spent most of my early years flying back and forth to the US for every holiday. During one trip, my chaperone was hurt when the locker above us opened during turbulence, and a bag hit her on the side of the head. I’ll never forget the stream of blood from the cut above her eye, or the screams of terror from the other passengers.

I shake myself out of the memory. It was thirty years ago, time to get over myself.

I half-listen to their conversation before deciding to tune them out. The guys ribbed me when they found out that Brooke was accompanying me to Italy, Dante being the worst.

“Remember, what happens in Italy stays in Italy,” Leo said, smirking into his wine.

“Haha,” I said. “As I explained to Dante, she’s closer in age to my niece, and I’m her boss.”

“I don’t hear anything about you not being attracted to her,” Orlando said.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Have you listened to a word I’ve said?”

They all chuckled, but it was Dante who spoke out. “You’ve made a lot of excuses as to why you shouldn’t get involved with her.”

“Exactly,” I said, pleased someone was talking some sense.

“But attraction, that’s a hard thing to fight. David will tell you that.”

I scowled at my friends. “I’m not attracted to her.”

Dante smacked me on the back. “Keep telling yourself that, old man.”

I growled at them all.

“We shouldn’t tease, he has Aubrey after all,” Leo said.

“The elusive Aubrey,” Orlando muttered. “He keeps us separate. Do you think he’s not proud of us?” he said, pulling a dramatic face and clutching his heart.

“Idiot,” I said.

I haven’t introduced Aubrey to the guys because I didn’t want to give her or them the wrong impression. We’ve had fun, but I don’t see it progressing. Once bitten, twice shy, as they say. I’ve done the marriage thing, and once was enough. She’s been travelling and focusing on her career. I have St Clair, my employees and clients to concentrate on. It’s worked. However, the last couple of times we’ve been together, she’s dropped hints that at thirty-four, her modelling career is coming to an end and she’s looking to move forward with her life, maybe settle down…

I changed the subject, but it’s made me take a long, hard look at what we have. It’s been fun, but if I’m honest, we’ve no real connection outside the bedroom. The worst part is that the boys aren’t wrong. I feel more for Brooke, who I’ve only known for a few weeks, and that thought alone scares the shit out of me.

But then, when you want out of a relationship, it’s common to look around you and see who else is available.

It is, after all, what Loretta, my ex-wife did. She met Myles before we split, an ex-NFL player who became a sports presenter. It happened six years into our marriage, when I was absent, caught up in learning the ropes and dancing to my mother’s tune. My workaholic tendencies were already showing. One night, I stood her up. Pissed off, she attended a party without me and met him. Not that I blame her. She tried to make our marriage work for another year, but I was a shitty husband who didn’t fully understand her wants and needs, thinking only of myself. When I finally let her down in the worst way possible, she left me for someone who did.

Our flight is called.

Due to the lateness of our booking, we’re flying first class. Not that I’m complaining. I want to get some work done and hopefully catch some sleep before we land. We’ve got a busy couple of days ahead of us.

I take the single pod by the window, allowing the women to take the two central ones as they’re both still talking.

“Champagne?”

I turn to find one of the cabin crew holding a tray.

I accept the glass, hoping to calm the churning in my stomach.

She turns and offers one to Brooke, who’s sat across the aisle from me.

“Thank you,” she says, earning herself a smile.

What is it about this young woman? She seems to have a positive effect on everyone she meets. Maybe it’s her Britishness, but somehow it feels more. She draws people to her. Yet I’ve seen her hold herself apart, keeping those around her at arm’s length, without them realising it.

“I’m going to be working for a bit,” I say, unnecessarily.

“Is there anything you want me to do?” she asks.

I shake my head. “No. I have some emails to go over. Just enjoy the movies and get some rest. It’s going to be a busy couple of days.”

She should know, she set our itinerary.

Takeoff is surprisingly smooth, and I throw myself into work until dinner is served. I send it away, unsure my stomach will accept it, although I can’t ignore Brooke as she and Elise continue to talk animatedly throughout their meal.

After dinner, the lights are dimmed. Brooke disappears, changing into the pyjamas provided. Her flight socks peek out from under the bottoms when she returns.

She reclines her seat and curls up in it before pulling the flight blanket up and over herself and flicking through the movies.

Concentrate!

I refocus my attention on my laptop, realising we’re already two and a half hours into a nine-hour flight and I haven’t even noticed the time passing.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” a voice comes from beside my chair.

“Some water would be great,” I say.

“Right away.”

I look over the aisle to find Brooke watching me.

“You really should relax,” she whispers, scrunching up her nose as if realising she may have overstepped.

I chuckle. “I’m nearly done. Any good movies?” I ask, suddenly finding I’m not interested in work.

She grins and sits up, her hand going to the controller as she pulls up the menu. “What do you like? Sci-fi, thrillers, documentaries… romance?”

I close my laptop, turning to face her, for some reason pleased I have her attention.

“Sci-fi, or a thriller.”

“There are a couple of new ones.”

She reels off the titles. I remember seeing them advertised on billboards.

“Anything you suggest?” I ask.

“It’s been a while since I went to the cinema,” she admits. “But I’ve heard great things about this one. It’s what I’m watching. It’s a bit of a monster at over two and a half hours.”

She gives me the title, and I pull it up on my own screen. “I’ll let you know at the other end.”

She grins across. “Enjoy.”

The air stewardess takes that moment to return with my water. When I look back across, Brooke is once again watching her screen, the moment lost.

Two hours into the movie, I get up and head to the bathroom. At least it’s spacious. When I return, Brooke is sound asleep, curled in a ball one hand resting beneath her cheek. She’s a picture of innocence. The tension she usually carries is gone. Elise looks up and smiles. I drag my eyes away from my sleeping PA, not wanting to look like a creep, and return to my seat.

Elise is forty-five and has worked for St Clair since she graduated. She’s an incredibly talented designer, and I’m constantly worried about her being poached. She was my boss when I worked in the design studio. Now she’s a close friend as well as a colleague, someone I have the greatest respect for.

I glance once more across the aisle before finishing the movie.

* * *

When we make it to the hotel, Brooke checks us in.

“We’re all on the same floor,” she says. “Alex, you have a suite, as requested.”

I nod. It will make any meetings easier, should we need one. I don’t want us to be having confidential discussions in restaurants.

“We have three hours before we’re due at our suppliers, so there’s time to freshen up or get some sleep if you prefer,” she says.

Brooke looks refreshed. She slept for much of the flight, only waking up when they brought us breakfast. She turned it down before rolling over and continuing her nap.

I, on the other hand, spent the entire night, my mind whirring. Work, my mother… Brooke.

Did she set me up? When I mentioned Brooke would be my PA, she appeared shocked but then told me she thought it was a good choice. Why was she so sure? I know she’s been playing matchmaker since Loretta left, not content with only one grandchild, but still… Not knowing if I’ve been played is messing with my head.

Brooke smiles, her hand grazing mine as she distributes our keycards.

I tense.

Is it possible?

Her brows furrow as if she senses something is wrong, but in true Brooke style, she brushes it off, turning instead to Elise.

“Okay, let’s go,” Elise says. “My bed is calling. I can never sleep on flights, first class or not.”

We make our way upstairs. The bellboy had already promised our cases would be waiting for us. Saying goodbye in the hallway, I enter my room, throwing my laptop down before running a hand through my hair. Time for a shower and hopefully a few hours’ sleep.

* * *

Everyone is waiting in reception when I finally make it down.

Brooke, in all her efficiency, has arranged a driver to take us to our destination on the outskirts of Rome, where our supplier has one of its main warehouses.

We’re greeted by Tomasso, the owner and a long-standing family friend.

“Ciao, Tomasso,” I say, only for him to pull me into a backslapping hug.

He pulls back and grips my upper arms.

“Ciao, Alessandro, che bello rivederti.”

It’s good to see you, he says.

“Quanto tempo! Sono felice di rivederti.”

Long time, I’m happy to see you again, I reply, dragging out my rusty Italian.

Tomasso turns to the ladies, holding out a hand, his weathered face alight with pleasure.

“Elise, it’s lovely to see you again,” he says, shaking her hand, before turning to Brooke.

“And who is this beautiful young woman?”

His sparkling eyes meet mine. I can see his unspoken question, and I stifle a groan.

“I’m Brooke, Alessandro’s PA. It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mr Esposito,” she says, holding out her hand.

His smile widens. “Tomasso, please. Ah, you are Brooke. Lovely to be able to put such a beautiful face to your name.” He turns to me. “She’s efficient, this one, no?”

“She is,” I say, really wishing we could move on.

Giovanni and Marco, Tomasso’s sons, come out of a side office to join us. He makes the relevant introductions.

“Marco, why don’t you take Alessandro and Brooke into the office and go through the figures?”

I bristle. Marco’s eyes have been trained on Brooke since he arrived.

“Brooke is going with Elise,” I say. “I want her to have a chance to see the fabric and sourcing, as well as carry out the audits we need.”

Marco’s shoulders droop at my words.

Brooke remains straight-faced. Is she totally oblivious to the male attention she attracts everywhere she goes? I’m glad Elise had the foresight to brief Brooke on the audit and quality standard assessments we’ll need to carry out while we’re here, taking on what would have been Nolan’s role.

Tomasso leads the women away. Marco’s eyes follow them like a lovesick puppy.

“Come on. Your papà has told me you’re now in charge of capacity planning as well as negotiations.”

Marco turns his attention to me. He’s about ten years younger than me, much closer to Brooke in age.

“My master’s in business has paid off,” he says with a grin. “Thanks for the advice.”

“I’m glad, and you’re welcome, although maybe I won’t be when we’re negotiating terms.”

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get some proper coffee and talk business.”

* * *

Four hours later, I catch up with Elise in the raw material storage room. She has some of next summer’s designs out on the table and is deep in discussion with both Tomasso and Giovanni.

“How about this? Is this what you’re looking for?” Brooke appears from deep within the racks.

Elise looks up. “Oh, my goodness, it’s perfect.” Her eyes move to Giovanni. “What do you think?”

“I think we’re onto something. It’s also available in multiple shades.”

Brooke grins, her cheeks glowing. She looks to be in her element.

“How’s it going?” I say, stepping into the room.

“Good. I think we’ve sourced the fabrics for next summer’s collection,” Elise replies.

“How were negotiations?” Tomasso asks.

This is the first time he’s trusted one of his sons to take the reins.

“Good. Marco drives a hard bargain, but we’ve come to an agreement.”

“And drunk copious amounts of coffee, no doubt.” Tomasso laughs.

“That as well.”

“It’s now lunchtime,” he says, clapping his hands. “No more talk of work. Now we rest.”

We follow him to the Rustico he’s renovated, close to the factory.

“How was today?” I ask Elise and Brooke as we get into the car.

“Successful. It helped to have Brooke here. You have a good eye,” Elise says.

“Thank you. I’ve always loved clothes. I used to design my dolls’ clothes growing up. Today has been amazing. I appreciate you letting me be a part of it,” she replies.

I stare at Elise, seeing she means every word. Interesting. Is there nothing Brooke can’t turn her hand to? Or maybe my mother is aware that she loves design, and this is her way of getting Brooke into the company without the qualifications we usually require.

Valentina, Tomasso’s wife, comes out to greet us, leading us to a table with a large spread of meats and salads.

“This is amazing,” Brooke says, thanking her.

I almost roll my eyes when Valentina sits next to her and begins questioning her in broken English.

Brooke takes every question in her stride until Giovanni steps in.

“Mamma, enough. Let the poor woman eat some food.”

Valentina places a hand on Brooke’s arm, apologising.

“Please, there’s no need. It’s been lovely talking to you. I miss my own Mamma.”

Valentina’s eyes soften, and something twists in my chest. I’ve not really considered her living in New York, miles away from all of her friends and family.

We finish lunch and say our goodbyes. Tomorrow we’ll be visiting the factory, so Elise and Brooke can conduct the necessary audits for compliance. While they’re busy, I’ll get to visit my younger sister, Gabriella, who’s studying for her master’s in Rome.

CHAPTER 25

HARPER

Our phones ping as I reach reception.

ELISE:

I won’t be joining you. Something’s come up.

ME:

Everything okay?

ELISE:

A friend is in town and asked if I wanted to go to dinner.

ME:

Have a great time. See you in the morning.

I walk through reception to find Alex already waiting, sitting in a chair, looking at his phone.

“Hi,” I say.

“Elise won’t be joining us this evening,” he says, standing up.

The movement sucks the air from the room. Tonight he’s dressed in beige chinos and a white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, exposing tanned forearms. My mouth waters at the sight.

“She just messaged to let me know.”

I’m beginning to wonder if the friend she’s seeing might be none other than Giovanni Esposito. The two seemed very friendly this afternoon, and when I came back into the room, I could have sworn they looked guilty, jumping apart like two naughty teenagers.

Well, good for her. He seems like a nice guy, and she’s fast becoming one of my favourite people at St Clair. Yesterday and today, she made me feel valued, including me in discussions and trusting my opinion.

“My sister is going to join us for dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”

I stop, causing him to bump into me. His hands come out to steady me, sending jolts of awareness through my body.

“Sorry,” he says.

I turn so I can look up into his face, those deep blue eyes locking on mine.

“No, that was my fault. Are you sure you want me along? I’m happy to order room service. You and your sister can have a family reunion,” I say.

He chuckles. “My sister would never forgive me. We’ve spent the day together. She wants to meet the woman who’s replaced Callie and is keeping her brother on his toes.”

Am I keeping him on his toes?

My stomach warms at his words. He talked to his sister about me?

His forehead wrinkles.

I force a smile. “As long as you’re sure I’m not intruding,” I say.

As we walk to the restaurant, my mind replays everything I’ve learned about Gabriella Bianchi.

She’s the youngest daughter of Sophia and Edoardo Bianchi, thirty-two years old, and is studying for her master’s in fashion design in Italy, where she lives with her father, who recently separated from Sophia, although the reason behind their split is unknown.

Our host appears, showing us to our table, deep in the back of the restaurant. I keep my back to the room, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Although I’m in Italy, according to the latest press release, Harper Frazer has been spotted working on a cattle station in the Australian outback. The absurdity alone made me chuckle, not that I’m against the experience. It sounds like an adventure, but really? Good luck to the paparazzi chasing me down.

Alex stands up as a strikingly beautiful woman makes her way towards us. Alex smiles, pulling her in for a hug.

“It’s only been a few hours,” she says, swatting his chest.

Her accent surprises me, as she’s more American-sounding than her brother.

“Hey, I miss not having you around to keep Mother in check,” he says.

“I just have to keep Papà going instead,” she says.

“How’s he doing?”

“Still moping around, hoping she’ll come to her senses.”

His eyes flick to mine, and I drop my gaze to the table, clearly overhearing something that’s a private and personal family matter.

“Gabbi, let me introduce you to Brooke. Brooke, this is my baby sister Gabriella.”

I stand up and turn to the woman who’s joined us. She is stunning, her Italian heritage shining through in her dark eyes, dark brown hair and beautiful olive complexion.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Gabriella,” I say.

“Gabbi, please. Otherwise, I’ll think I’m in trouble. Only our mother and father call me Gabriella.”

I smile, surprised at her warmth.

“I hope you don’t mind me joining you both,” she says.

“No, it’s me who’s intruding,” I say.

Both siblings shake their heads. “I want to meet the woman who has my big brother toeing the line. There are not many who manage it.”

She looks at me like she’s trying to get a read on me.

“Tell me about yourself,” she says, and I notice the pattern between siblings.

Both are a force of nature. Black is black and white is definitely white. Something I’ve learned to value over the years.

The maitre d’ takes our order, while I answer all Gabbi’s questions. I stick to the script, which, luckily, isn’t a million miles from my real life. Only Brooke Feldmann is a mid-range student, and she certainly doesn’t have a trust fund or come from a long line of billionaires. The more I talk, the more I hate myself and the endless lies I’m spouting.

Gabbi orders another bottle of wine, and I make a mental note of the label for Caleb’s best friend, Tristan. He’s always looking out for new vineyards to approach.

“And now you work for my brother, you poor thing.”

“It’s been good, interesting… I’m learning a lot.”

“Well, just because he’s a workaholic, don’t let him turn you into one. Life is about balance,” Gabbi says, shooting her brother a look that I’m sure holds more meaning than the words she’s just spoken.

After our main course, Gabbi’s phone beeps.

“That’ll be my ride,” she says, standing up. “You got this?” She looks at her brother, who waves her off when she reaches for her purse. She drops a kiss on his cheek. “Remember what I said.”

“Don’t worry, you spent much of this afternoon drumming it into me,” he says cryptically.

Gabbi turns to me. “It’s been lovely meeting you. It seems like I’ve known you for years. Maybe we can meet up and go out for a drink next time I’m in New York.”

I smile at her warmth, finding myself more relaxed than I have been in months.

“I’d like that,” I tell her truthfully, hoping that, by the time it happens, I’ll be free from the threats that hang over me.

She leans over and pulls me into a hug. “Safe travels home tomorrow.”

Her phone beeps again. “I’d better go.”

“Lovely meeting you.”

She dashes out of the restaurant and into the car that is waiting outside on the cobbled street.

Alex watches her go.

“You must miss her,” I say before I can stop myself, drawing his attention back to me.

He gives a little sigh. “I do, but everyone has their own path to follow. She’ll return when she’s ready.” There’s a pause. “But how about you? You spoke a lot tonight about your own family. You must miss them?” he says.

I pick up my glass of wine and stare into the ruby liquid.

“More than you can imagine,” I say before I can stop myself, the alcohol loosening my tongue.

Shit!

I stare across the table at Alex, his brows drawn together.

“So why are you doing this?”

Why?

I sit back, taking my glass with me, my gaze dropping to the liquid as I swirl it around the glass, the way I would at a wine tasting.

“Because I need to learn to stand on my own two feet. Being the youngest, everyone has tried to protect me since the day I was born. But you need to make mistakes in life to grow. I’ve learned that the hard way.”

He inclines his head. “And this is your way of growing. Moving away to find yourself?”

“Something like that,” I say, taking another sip, my head feeling decidedly light.

This is the first drink I’ve had in months, too scared to let myself go.

“Dessert? Signore, signorina?” our waiter asks, appearing at our table.

I hold up a hand. “No, grazie,” I say, shooting him a smile and earning myself a nod.

“Coffee?”

“That would be lovely, grazie,” I say, turning to Alex.

He nods, and our waiter disappears.

“Are your siblings married?”

“Not all of them. Three out of the four are in relationships. My sister, she’s complicated.”

I chuckle, thinking about her and Jaxson, stuck together in the Maldives.

Caleb dropped that one in when I last spoke to him.

“How about you?”

“No, none of my siblings are married. Enzo, our middle brother, has a daughter. She’s fifteen now.”

“You were married, though?” I say, before I can stop the words, my hand flying to my mouth. “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”

“It’s fine. The joys of being in the public eye. There are no secrets when you’re in my position. Count yourself lucky,” he says.

I bite my tongue.

He sighs before continuing, “Your dirty laundry is aired for all the world to see.”

He holds up his glass as if in salute.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

If only you knew, I’m currently front and centre.

“Don’t be, it goes with the territory. I look at all these people who fight for their fifteen minutes of fame without realising how intrusive it can be when they get it. You can’t even sneeze without someone reporting on it. Once you’ve let them in, there’s no closing the door.”

Don’t I know it!

Building up my influencer business, I invited everyone in. My family tried to warn me, but I was on self-destruct, anything to lock out the pain. Every party, every event, I was there. The last one to leave, not worrying about what they said. All publicity is good publicity until it isn’t. But by the time I realised, it was too late.

“I wasn’t the best husband. Some might say I’m a workaholic,” he says, keeping a straight face, but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away.

“I’m not sure how anyone could say that about you,” I tease, making him chuckle.

“Loretta and I have remained good friends. I’m happy for her. She has everything she dreamed of, things I couldn’t give her,” he says cryptically.

“How long were you married?”

“Seven years. We’ve been divorced for five. The presents you arranged were for her and Myles’s twin daughters.” He smiles. “Thank you. ‘They were the best presents ever,’ apparently.”

It’s my turn to smile. “I love present shopping. It’s one of my favourite pastimes.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” he says, finishing his wine, just as our coffees arrive.

We drink our coffee in a comfortable silence, both lost in our own thoughts.

When we’ve finished, Alex settles the bill, and we head out onto the cobbled street.

“You surprise me, Brooke, you seem older than your years,” he says as we make our way back to the hotel. “I had my doubts when Mother first introduced us and Sue said you’d be the perfect PA. But you’ve proven yourself more than capable.”

“I would never have guessed,” I say, nudging him with my shoulder, before realising that is not something one should do to their boss. He doesn’t take offence. Instead, he laughs.

“Credit where credit’s due,” he says.

“Well, thank you. Fighting against being babied by four older siblings. Seven years between me and the next youngest. Thirteen years between my older brother and me. I’ve had plenty of experience.”

“You, fighting against the establishment. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

I stop and turn to face him, placing a hand over my heart.

“What do you mean? I’ve been the model PA. You just said so yourself,” I say, chuckling and finding myself gazing up into his eyes, surprised at how relaxed he looks.

“Ah, but I see the fire in your eyes every time you disagree with me. You just swallow it down.”

“Guilty as charged, but as you’re my boss, I guess I have to do what you say.”

He looks away sharply, and I kick myself when he falls silent.

Great job, Harper! Brooke! Shit!

CHAPTER 26

HARPER

Cobbled streets are not designed for stilettos!

I shift my weight onto my toes to keep my footing, but I still find myself teetering like Bambi on ice.

Alex grips my elbow, keeping me upright as I lurch to one side.

“Thank you,” I say in a rush, my near fall and his close proximity stealing my breath. “Who would have thought that, in the city of chic, it’s almost impossible to walk in heels? I must be doing something wrong.”

I know I’m speaking fast, trying to lighten the mood.

Our hotel is at the top of the street. There’s not much further to go. Sidestepping, I try to put some distance between us, but the movement sends me stumbling again.

I grunt.

If I continue like this, I’m going to end up twisting an ankle or worse, and where will that leave me?

I stop, carefully making my way across the cobbled street towards the nearest building. I slip off my shoes, dangling them from my fingers, only to find Alex has stopped and is watching me.

“That’s better,” I say, with a smile.

Before I can take another step, my feet leave the ground, and I collide with something hard. A very broad, and very muscular male chest.

“Stop wriggling,” he says with a grunt.

“But I can walk,” I say, sliding my arms around his neck as he shifts his hold, pulling me more firmly against him.

“Not without shoes,” he says before I can protest any further. “You were about to step on a piece of glass.”

“Oh,” I say, relaxing into his hold as he strides up the street as if I weigh little more than my one-year-old nephew, Callum.

A twisted ankle or sliced foot, neither sounds very appealing.

We make it to the hotel entrance in silence. Alex lowers me to the ground, our bodies so close that I can feel the warmth emanating through his clothes. My hands hit his chest as I rebalance myself. Is it the wine, or his proximity, that is making my head swim?

“Thank you, kind sir,” I say, going up onto my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

He turns his head too quickly for me to pull back, and my lips clash with his.

We both freeze. Our mouths remain pressed together as our eyes lock.

I move my lips to apologise, only to realise they’re still pressed against his incredibly smooth, tempting mouth.

His pupils dilate, and my mind wanders back to Daphne and our conversation in the kitchen about Evelyn coming on to Alex.

Shit! What must he be thinking?

I pull back, my hand flying to my mouth. His eyes follow the movement before locking on mine.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” I mumble.

Stepping back, I trip over the step behind me, my arms flailing as I try to right myself.

Alex reaches out, pulling me upright.

Spots dance across my vision, and I blink rapidly.

He reaches out with his other hand to steady me, but I dodge his touch. He doesn’t say anything, just stares, his eyes burning into me.

Humiliation floods through me, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” I say, staring at the floor as I continue to back up the steps.

“Brooke… I,” he says.

“See you in the morning,” I say, turning and sprinting into the lobby and up the stairs to our floor. I’m certainly not waiting for the elevator. That would complete my humiliation.

Making it upstairs in record time, I use my keycard and dart into my room, shutting the door firmly behind me. I stumble forward and faceplant onto the bed, screaming into the mattress as I flail my arms and legs.

Shit, shit, shit!

You have to ruin everything. The man was being nice and considerate, and you just had to take it one step too far. And do what? Kiss him?

What was I thinking? How will I look him in the eye tomorrow?

Rolling over, I stare at the ornate ceiling before pressing the heels of my palms into my eye sockets.

Crap!

Maybe someone will have spotted me tonight, and my cover is already blown.

Fuck, that’s the last thing I need.

No, I’ll just have to suck it up and hope I don’t end up with Evelyn in the secretarial pool by Monday.

Pushing myself off the bed, I make my way into the bathroom, running through my nighttime routine.

By the time I’m done, I’ve decided.

No comment. It never happened.

Even the gentlest touch of his lips against mine isn’t something I’m going to forget in a hurry. But who am I kidding? This is never going to happen again. There was no mistaking the look of horror in his eyes when he pulled me upright.

Back on the bed, I draw my knees up and drop my head into my hands.

I blame Rome. The romance of the city, its history, the people. But there’s no denying it, spending the night with Alex and his sister has had a profound effect on me. My heart lurches at the thought of my own family and how I want nothing more than to be held within the safety of their arms.

But tomorrow is another day. We fly home. Christmas is almost upon us. The office closes for over a week, so I won’t have to see Mr Tall, Dark and Broody. After that, night school begins in the new year. I just need to navigate that little hurdle with my protection team.

CHAPTER 27

ALEX

Elise and Brooke are deep in conversation as they enter the restaurant for breakfast. Elise looks up and waves, then guides Brooke towards me and the table I’m occupying.

“Morning, boss,” she says cheerfully, and I wonder whether Giovanni Esposito has anything to do with that.

I saw him dropping her back at the hotel late last night. He was clearly the friend she was meeting. Not that I blame her. They’ve worked closely over the years. He’s only a few years younger than she is. If something develops, I wish them both well.

Our waiter arrives, takes their drink orders, and directs them to the buffet.

“So, how was your meal last night?” she asks, turning to Brooke, who’s been remarkably quiet since she sat down.

“It was lovely,” she says. “The food and wine were everything the reviews promised. Gabbi joined us, which was nice.”

Her mention of the wine makes me wonder whether she intends to use it as an excuse for what transpired at the end of the evening.

A get-out-of-jail-free card. I had a little too much to drink… it was quite out of character.

Elise turns to me. “Gabbi joined you?”

I nod.

“I’m sorry I missed her. How’s her course going?”

“Well,” both Brooke and I answer together before falling into silence.

Brooke gets up and moves to the buffet, leaving us at the table.

Elise looks at me, her eyes questioning.

“Gabbi is loving her course. Hopefully, once she’s finished, she’ll join us,” I say.

“Brooke looks tired this morning,” Elise says, her eyes never leaving my face.

“It was a late night. The past couple of days have been hectic. Add the couple of bottles of wine we had with dinner. I’m sure when she’s back in New York in her own bed, she’ll feel better.”

I look at my friend, who doesn’t look convinced but lets it drop.

Brooke returns to the table. Elise is correct, she does look tired, and I wonder if she got any sleep last night. I know I didn’t. I tossed and turned. At two, I took a cold shower, trying to erase the feel of Brooke in my arms and how right it felt when her lips touched mine.

Fuck!

It was all I could do not to haul her into my arms…but then there was her response. The look of pure horror on her face. It’s why my balls are still blue this morning, her apparent disgust stopping me from taking myself in hand.

Her eyes remain glued to the tablecloth as she sits down. The definite barrier between us. It lets me know that what happened last night, or nearly happened, is not up for discussion.

“Are you all packed?” Elise turns to Brooke.

“Nearly,” she says, turning and offering Elise an overly bright smile. “I’m not hungry. Too much food last night. I think I’ll go and finish packing. I’ll see you both in reception.”

Without so much as a glance in my direction, she gets up and leaves the table.

Elise watches her go with a frown. “Are you sure nothing happened last night?” she presses.

“Nothing,” I lie.

“You didn’t snap at her, criticise her?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Why’s it my fault? I’ve no reason to question anything she does. You’ve seen it yourself. She’s Little Miss Efficient.”

“Hmm,” she says, not sounding convinced. “Just remember that. We’re not all like you, married to our jobs.” A look of horror passes over her face. “Oh shit, Alex, I’m sorry.”

Elise and I had already been working together when Loretta left me.

“Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge, and it’s not something I deny. I am a workaholic.”

“You need to find someone to settle down with. Speaking of which, how’s it going with Aubrey?”

“Fine, but we want different things,” I admit.

Her eyes meet mine. “I was surprised you asked her out. I wouldn’t have pegged her as your type,” she says.

I harrumph. “I’m not sure what my type is,” I tell her with a grimace.

I’m beginning to question that, though, especially since a certain young woman stepped into my life and began invading my every waking thought.

Fuck! No. She’s run scared from the breakfast room, having eaten nothing. Does she blame me? Does she think I was coming onto her? Was I?

I did carry her up the street, enjoying the feel of her in my arms. Did she sense that? Is that what’s freaked her out?

We had fun.

The conversation between the three of us had been easy. Gabbi had liked her, I could tell. She never tells anyone she’ll call them. She’s spent years being stung and sold out by so-called friends. But with Brooke, it was as though Gabbi felt understood.

Even after my sister left, Brooke and I continued talking. I don’t think I’ve felt that at ease in another person’s company for a long time. And now that ease between us appears to be gone. I hate the distance I’ve created. Maybe I should have apologised there and then, but the temptation to take her in my arms and see how it truly felt to kiss her was riding me hard.

I need to forget it. Keep things professional. Getting involved with my PA would be an HR nightmare. Sue would probably throw me off the top of our building, after giving me a lecture about messing around with my subordinates.

As the boys said before I left, “What happens in Italy stays in Italy.” I just need to let Brooke know she’s safe with me and nothing like that will ever happen again.

CHAPTER 28

HARPER

Oh great. Italy has become the elephant in the room.

One minute we’re chatting and laughing, and then in typical Harper fashion, I forget myself, act inappropriately, and wham, we’re right back to where we started. Over the past twenty-four hours, he’s been back to being impatient, distant and professional. He didn’t even crack a smile this morning when he passed my desk, lost in his own world. He disappeared into his office. When I took him his coffee, he didn’t bother to look up, simply dismissed me with a grunt.

A grunt!

I inhale deeply and close my eyes, calming my breathing.

You’re Brooke Feldmann, not Harper Frazer. This is how the world works.

Those blue eyes locked on mine, his lips firm and warm beneath mine, my fingers flexing against his hard chest.

Shit! I’m such a fuck-up.

I need to get Alessandro Bianchi out of my head. It wasn’t even a proper kiss. It was a peck at best. But you don’t give your boss a peck, and certainly not on the lips. Not that I was aiming for his lips, but…

Oh hell.

I smack the palm of my hand against my forehead.

You’re an idiot!

He probably thinks you’re some immature little girl who doesn’t know how to be a professional. That you’ve proven him right and overstepped the mark. Maybe he’s in there right now, contacting Sue, and I’ll end up being transferred to the back of beyond, like the last woman who made a pass at him.

I growl at myself. That wasn’t a pass. If it had been, he’d have known about it.

Not that I’ve got reams of experience, despite what the media have reported over the years. My sexual prowess has been greatly exaggerated. After Dad died, I rebelled and engaged in delinquent behaviour, as Elijah would call it. Only to me, it wasn’t a rebellion. It was hiding in plain sight, drowning my sorrows not in alcohol or drugs, but in life. Being constantly active and surrounded by others helped muffle the noise, the guilt.

I stare at the pile of completed reports on my desk. I was in at seven this morning, unable to sleep. One thing about living alone and having no friends is that I have far too much time to think.

My phone rings, and I grimace as I answer it.

“Brooke, can you come in here?”

He doesn’t sugarcoat it.

Shit, is this it?

I grab the tablet and knock on his door.

“Come in.”

He glances up and watches me approach. I drop my gaze, focusing on the desk in front of him.

“Take a seat,” he says.

I lower myself into the chair opposite him, his eyes burning holes through me. I look up and focus on his nose.

Was that a growl?

I’m hearing things.

“Brooke…”

“No, please let me speak,” I say, holding up a hand and deciding it’s time to pull on my big girl pants and own the moment.

He lets out a sigh and sits back, my stomach tensing as our eyes finally meet.

“Okay,” he says.

I nod, trying to loosen some of the tension in my shoulders.

“I want to apologise,” I say, inhaling deeply while holding his gaze.

Here goes…

“I want to apologise for my inappropriate behaviour in Italy. I would appreciate it if you would not hold it against me. I promise it will never happen again.”

“Inappropriate behaviour?” he says, tilting his head and pursing his lips.

I grimace.

He’s clearly not going to make this easy on me.

I pinch the skin on the inside of my wrist.

“Are you really going to make me say it?” I ask, my stomach churning.

God, this is embarrassing.

I sit upright, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle on my trouser leg.

I bite my lip.

“Fine,” I huff, staring at the paper on his desk. “I’m sorry I kissed you. It was an accident. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

He steeples his fingers in front of his mouth before lowering them slowly.

“Apology accepted.”

My shoulders sag as I exhale deeply. “Thank you.”

“Brooke, does this mean we can go back to normal?”

I open and then close my mouth.

“Absolutely,” I say, but the uncertainty in my voice must give me away.

Normal?

“I’m talking about looking me in the eye, not jumping every time I’m within a metre of you.”

“I didn’t realise I was,” I say.

He inclines his head, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, so maybe I have, but… oh hell, I’ve been embarrassed. I didn’t want you to think…”

He gives me a blank look.

“Think what?”

“Think I was coming on to you,” I say, my cheeks heating.

I must look like a tomato.

This time he laughs, and I scowl.

“Oh, Brooke. This has gone far enough. I know it was an accident. If anyone should be apologising, it’s me. If I hadn’t turned my head, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression.”

“Well, now we’ve cleared that up, maybe we can get on with the tasks at hand.”

“Of course,” I say, standing up. “I have all the reports ready for you.”

He stares at me. “All of them?”

“Er, yes… if you have anything else that needs doing, I have extra capacity.”

“Brooke, sit down.”

I drop back into the chair, clasping my hands in my lap.

“Has someone said something to you?” he asks.

He presses his lips together, squinting at me.

“I’ll say this once. If I have a problem, I’ll speak directly to you about it. Do I make myself clear?”

He holds my gaze, and I nod.

“It’s just…” I say.

“Spit it out.”

“You’ve appeared distracted, and I assumed it was because of what happened.”

He sits back in his chair.

“It has nothing to do with you. Something is going on that I’m not at liberty to share. Don’t take it personally. I have a lot on my mind.”

I smile, the tight muscles in my stomach loosening. “No problem. Is that all?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says.

I stand, moving to the door.

“And, Brooke, why don’t you take an extended lunch break?” he says when I turn to face him.

“Would you like me to bring you something up?”

He smiles, and my heart flips. “That would be great. If you’re ahead, then I might as well take advantage of it. Maybe we can both get out of here early today.”

“Of course,” I say, letting myself out.

Extended lunch break, with who? I can sit and be Norma No-Mates, but what is the fun in that? It’s not like I can even go out and wander around the shops. This whole situation has left me isolated, and the loneliness is starting to get to me.

I glance at the clock. It’s twelve o’clock.

I switch the phones over and head down to the cafeteria.

“Hey, Brooke,” a voice says as I enter.

“Hey Molly. I’m going to have some lunch here, but Alex would like me to take something upstairs for him.”

She grins. “Of course. I’ll get Chef to prepare it and you can collect it when you’re done.”

I move along the counter, picking up a chicken salad and some fruit.

“Brooke.”

I spin around. Elise is standing at a table with her team, beckoning me over.

“Would you like to join us?” she says. “I’m just telling everyone how much help you were in Italy.”

I nod, some of the pressure in my chest lifting as I make my way towards them.

Not alone, but I must remember that connections make me vulnerable.

CHAPTER 29

ALEX

Istare at my schedule.

What the…

“Brooke, get in here,” I all but shout down the phone.

There is a brief knock before the door opens.

“What the hell is this?” I ask, motioning to my computer.

She wrinkles her nose in a way that makes me want to pull her closer and kiss it smooth.

Bloody hell, this woman has really got under my skin.

My attraction to her has been even worse since her heartfelt apology. What I really wanted to say was, ‘If that was a kiss, then you’ve got a lot to learn. If I had kissed you, you wouldn’t have questioned it.’

But despite what my body wants, that is never going to happen. A relationship with Brooke is off the cards!

“This…” I say again, my frustration rising.

She moves towards my desk, her eyes locking on my screen.

“Oh, that. I rearranged your schedule.”

“You what?”

“Rearranged your schedule. You’re working too many hours, eating lunch at your desk and leaving late. It’s not healthy.”

I stare at her, clenching my jaw.

Who the hell does she think she is?

“So, this is how you spent your free time?”

She shrugs. “Just take a look at it,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest, looking down at me.

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“No, you didn’t, but your current schedule is running you ragged.”

“My current schedule?”

I open and close my mouth.

She’s not wrong but⁠—

“Who the hell do you think you are? You’re not my mother. You’re my fucking PA.”

“I may be your PA, but I won’t be spoken to like that. I’m going to leave now. We can continue this conversation when you’ve calmed down.”

“You’re what?” I stare at her wide-eyed.

“I’m going to leave and return to my desk,” she says, moving towards the door. “Look at the changes. If you don’t like them, then I’ll return the schedule to your previous, totally inefficient one. But I think if you just take…”

“Get out.” I release a frustrated huff.

She turns without a backward glance, closing the door softly behind her.

What the hell!

Although she’s not wrong, my schedule since returning from Italy has blown up. With Christmas fast approaching, followed by the new year and the various fashion weeks, my life is already a little crazy. Add the rumour that someone is trying to sell our designs illegally to one of our competitors, despite there being no physical evidence, and it becomes even more chaotic.

I run a hand through my hair in frustration and glance once more at the schedule.

It’s not permanent. It can be revoked.

I stare at it. Glare is probably more accurate.

It’s fucking colour-coded like the rainbow.

What am I, five?

I flick through, pulling up the weekly view.

All my meetings are present, although it looks like a couple have been shifted.

I pull up the email Brooke included.

Meetings (Blue): I’ve spoken with the various managers and tried to group meetings whenever possible to reduce travel time. Any that could not be moved for logistical purposes have remained in place.

Travel time (Green):

Focus Time (Purple): Time for you to review documents.

Free Time (Orange): For any additional work or unscheduled meetings.

The list goes on. It’s as though she’s taken my working week and broken it down into manageable chunks. She understands what my job entails and has made every demand on my time visible and feasible.

Finally, she’s included a thirty-minute lunch break every day.

I sit back and stare at the planner.

I don’t remember the last time I scheduled lunch that didn’t involve a meeting of some type.

She’s done what she said and made my schedule efficient. Something not even Callie could do. Not that I ever let her. I would have snapped at her just as I did Brooke. Brooke, on the other hand, has made the changes and then asked for forgiveness. I’ll give the woman credit. She has balls!

I flick through the days in more detail. I’ve muddled through for so long, my intensity and drive meaning I’ve tried to do everything. One tiny scrap of a woman has come in, seen what was needed and said, ‘You can do better.’

Shit. I owe her an apology.

I rub the back of my neck and pick up the phone.

“Brooke, get in here.”

She sighs but doesn’t argue.

The door opens a second later.

“I can put it back to how it was,” she says, her voice dejected.

“Don’t,” I say.

Her eyes widen and lock on mine.

“I reacted impulsively before, and I apologise. I hate change, but you’re right. I’m expending far too much energy when a few tweaks mean I can have a lunch break.” I sigh. “It’s a hundred times more efficient use of my time.”

“And should help prevent you from getting a stomach ulcer,” she interjects in little more than a whisper.

“That too,” I say, letting her know I heard her. Her cheeks flush. “Leave the changes in place. I’m happy to try it if those managers whose meetings have moved are also happy.”

“They are,” she says quickly.

I catch her gaze. “This is good,” I say. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

Her lips tilt at the edges. “You’re welcome.”

Without saying anything else, she moves towards the door.

“Brooke.”

She stops and turns, her hand resting on the door handle.

My heart lurches. Shit, this is dangerous. She’s taking control of my life, looking out for me.

My need for control baulks.

“Where did you learn to think like this?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Which part? The impulsive part? Or the organisational part?”

I chuckle.

“The impulsive part I can see. More the organisational?”

“I used to help my mother with her diary. I tend to see when something isn’t working, and I have to make changes to correct it. I hate wasted time and effort.”

She doesn’t expand any further, and it makes me wonder what her mother does.

“Let’s see how it goes,” I say, earning myself a nod as she lets herself out.

I sit back, my gaze returning to the screen. I hate someone else taking control, but if this works… I’ll regain some control of my life.

I pick up my phone and send a message to the guys.

ME:

Dinner at 7:30?

LEO:

I’m in.

DANTE:

Thought you’d never ask.

ORLANDO:

Can be there for 8.

DAVID:

Callie has her mum staying, so hell yes.

David’s comment makes me chuckle. I’ve missed our past couple of get-togethers, life having taken over, but glancing at the schedule, maybe that’s about to change.

CHAPTER 30

HARPER

“Brooke.”

I glance up to find Sophia marching towards me. She’s dressed head to toe in St Clair’s latest winter collection, a picture of grace and elegance.

I stand as she arrives at my desk.

“Sophia, it’s lovely to see you. Is Alex expecting you?”

I know from his schedule that he isn’t, but then I wouldn’t necessarily know if she called ahead. He’s in focus time, so he may have decided he can make time for her if she’s in the vicinity.

“I’m not here to see Sandro. I’m actually here to see you,” she says, sliding her gloves from her hands.

“Oh,” I say.

“I’d like to invite you for Christmas.”

“Oh,” I say again.

This isn’t awkward at all.

Sophia continues. “I realised this morning you’ll be on your own for the holiday season. That won’t do.”

Christmas is something I’ve tried hard not to think about. It’s always been my favourite time of year since I was little. Being the youngest, it was my job to hand out everyone’s presents. I was looking forward to handing the reins over to Callum this year.

My heart lurches.

“That’s kind, but what will Alex think? He’s stuck with me all day. I’m not sure he’ll want me invading Christmas.”

Sophia chuckles. “Leave him to me. No one should be on their own for Christmas.”

I stare at her, loving the fact she’s thinking of me, but also concerned.

“Won’t it raise questions as to why I’m not going home?”

She shrugs. “Maybe, but again, leave that to me.”

I frown, and she turns to stare at his door.

“Is he in?”

“Er, yes,” I say.

His door opens as if on command.

“Brooke,” he says, pulling up short. “Mother, what are you doing here?”

His eyes flick to mine, questioning. Had he missed a memo?

“I popped by to invite Brooke to spend Christmas with us.”

Her tone leaves no room to question or argue.

Alex turns to me. “I assumed you were heading back to the UK as you have a week off.”

“I…”

“She’s left it too late to book flights,” Sophia says, stepping between us, her tone once again leaving no room to argue.

“Fine,” Alex says with a shrug. “If that’s what Brooke wants. Although I can think of better ways to spend Christmas than with your boss.”

I’m not sure how to take his statement. Is he pissed off that his mother has ambushed him? I know I would be.

“That’s settled then. I’ll send Benjamin to collect you on Christmas morning,” she says, pulling her gloves back on. “Now I must fly. I’m meeting Clarisse for afternoon tea.”

“Have a lovely time,” I say.

She disappears as quickly as she appeared.

Alex stares after her, his forehead furrowed.

“Look, I’m sorry. If you would rather I didn’t attend, I can find an excuse. Come down with a cold or flu or something,” I say.

He turns to face me.

“Are you not going home? Going to be on your own?”

“I…”

“Answer the question, Brooke. A simple yes or no.”

“Yes.”

He shrugs. “Then the matter’s closed. You’ll spend Christmas at my mother’s, with my siblings and me. Gabbi is coming home. She’ll be happy to see you again.”

The tightness in my chest lightens a little. “If you’re sure. I really don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t be. On Christmas evening, mother invites all the neighbours in. It becomes a large social gathering.”

My heart stops.

What? What is Sophia thinking?

She knows I can’t risk exposure. These may be people who know or knew my parents. People who may have met me. Maybe I can make an excuse and leave straight after dinner. Tell Sophia I need to call my family.

That won’t work. It’ll be the middle of the night in the UK.

“Don’t look so worried. You’ll be fine. Gabbi will protect you, drag you off to give you more of a third degree. She’s very good at making herself scarce at these events.”

As if that’s supposed to make me feel better.

Lying. It’s hard.

I hate it, especially around people I like. I’ve always been upfront, a straight talker. This constant stream of lies and half-truths turns my stomach. I like Gabbi, and in another life, I could have seen us becoming firm friends. But now…

I offer Alex a weak smile.

“Honestly, it’s not that bad,” he says, returning it with a brighter one of his own.

In your eyes, I want to say.

The fear of slipping up, of being recognised. One wrong answer and this charade comes down like a house of cards. I know my fears are unfounded, especially with Sophia there. I’ve grown so used to living this lie that I’m almost starting to feel more like Brooke, and as though Harper Frazer is little more than a distant memory.

He turns and walks back into his office.

And then there’s him. I haven’t forgotten how it felt to be held in his arms… not when I’m home alone. It’s then that my fantasies take flight. What would it have felt like if he’d pulled me into his arms, his lips crashing down on mine, our tongues tangling?

I mentally shake myself as my breath quickens.

Here in the office, I try to push aside my growing attraction for Alessandro Bianchi. I keep busy, there’s no time for daydreaming. Outside the office, it’s harder. And now I’m about to be thrust into his family space. Not awkward at all.

I drop Sophia a message.

ME:

Thank you for the invite for Christmas

SOPHIA:

You’re welcome. Don’t worry, it is only family for lunch.

She fails to mention the afterparty, clearly not wanting to panic me. Or maybe she intends to send me home before it starts. I need to trust her. She’s the only person who knows my real identity. Let’s just hope it stays that way.

CHAPTER 31

ALEX

“Now make sure you make her welcome,” Mother says.

“We make everyone welcome,” Enzo says.

“Not that kind of welcome,” Gabbi says, rolling her eyes at our brother.

“What?” he says, his face a picture of innocence.

“You know what. You’re a playboy,” Gabbi says. “Brooke is off limits. I like her.”

“Brooke is definitely off-limits,” I say, knowing I’ll never cope if I have to watch my brother flirt with her all day. “Remember, she works for St Clair and is my PA. I don’t need the headache.”

Enzo laughs. “You’re being very protective over there,” he says.

“I am. She’s a good PA. I don’t need her being distracted or derailed by you.”

“Boys, boys,” Mother says.

He pulls a face at me behind her back, but I know he’s got the message.

Enzo in full flirtatious mode is something to behold. Women fall at his feet.

I glance across the room at my fifteen-year-old niece, Avril. Her mother, Katrina, and Enzo were high school sweethearts until an incident he’s never talked about drove them apart. Whether he’s embarrassed, I don’t know, but, somehow, they’ve remained friends. Katrina wants what’s best for their daughter rather than worrying about her feelings for my brother.

“She’s here,” Mother says. “Everyone on their best behaviour.”

I roll my eyes. Brooke’s my PA, not fucking royalty.

It’s bad enough that Mother invited her to spend Christmas with us. It’s not like she gave any of us a choice. But when I found out she was going to be alone… I’m not a complete heel. But time away from her is something I’d been looking forward to. Getting my head back in the game, rebuilding some walls.

Avril moves to stand next to my brother.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” Mother says, shooing us away. “Go and sit down. You don’t need to stand in line and wait for her to enter.”

I look at my siblings and chuckle, turning to leave just as the front door opens.

“Brooke,” Gabbi says, running forward and pulling a startled Brooke in for a hug.

Her arms come up around my sister as she returns the hug.

“It’s great to see you again,” Brooke says, pulling back slightly. “Have you recovered from your flight? It sounded horrendous.”

I frown.

What?

Have my sister and Brooke been communicating since Italy?

Gabbi rolls her eyes in dramatic fashion. “The stopover was a nightmare. There was not a single hotel room available. I wasn’t sure I’d make it back in time. I finally arrived late last night. Thanks for all the messages. You kept me sane.”

Oh fuck! My PA and sister have decided to become BFFs.

“Hi, I’m Lorenzo, but everyone calls me Enzo. I’m the middle one, and of course the much better looking,” he says, stepping forward and holding out his hand. “This is my daughter, Avril.”

Gabbi clocks him around the head while Avril rolls her eyes at her father.

“Hi,” she says, copying her father and holding out her hand to Brooke, who smiles before taking it in greeting.

“Hi, Avril, I’m pleased to meet you. I have a niece around the same age as you.”

“Really?”

She nods. “I have older brothers and a sister,” she says.

She barely mentions her family unless asked, and I wonder whether coming to the US was her way of escaping their protective hold. She mentioned them being protective, but is it more than that? After all, she could have gone home. There were plenty of flights still available if she’d wanted to take one. I didn’t question her or Mother about it. Whatever her reasons, they’re her own.

I need boundaries.

“Come in, come in,” Mother says, appearing in the doorway.

Brooke turns back towards the door and retrieves a bag full of gifts.

“Brooke?” Mother says.

Brooke smiles.

“We have a tradition at Christmas. We exchange small gifts, usually at the dinner table, instead of crackers. You must guess what each gift is.”

“Oh, lovely,” Mother says.

“If you’d rather not, it’s fine,” Brooke says with an awkward smile.

“I love the idea,” Gabbi says, linking her arm through Brooke’s. “Brooke told me about it, so I picked up something for her too.”

Typical Gabbi, always coming to the rescue.

Mother surprises me by smiling. “That’s fine. We love other people’s traditions,” she lies. “Apart from the traditional dinner and present opening, we don’t have many of our own.”

Dad appears from the back of the house, having decided to return with Gabbi so he could spend Christmas with the family.

“You must be Brooke,” he says. “Welcome.”

“Thank you, Mr Bianchi,” she says, holding out her hand.

“Edoardo, please.”

“Edoardo,” she says with a shy smile.

Mother claps her hands. “Everyone inside. No need to congregate in the hall.”

I step forward and take the bag she’s holding, our fingers brushing before she releases it. Her eyes catch mine, but she then looks away.

“Merry Christmas, Brooke,” I say.

“Merry Christmas, Alex.”

Gabbi marches Brooke further into the house.

As always, Mother has outdone herself, or at least the help has. The house has been transformed into a winter wonderland. Wreaths and lights climb the bannisters, with Christmas decorations in every corner. Brooke inhales sharply at the tree that’s taken pride of place in the window of the main room.

“Mother likes to go all out,” I tell her.

“A woman after my own heart. I love Christmas,” Brooke says.

“How about your family?”

Her expression falls, and I regret my words instantly. “They love it too. I spoke to them earlier and played a board game remotely.”

I raise an eyebrow, and she smiles.

“Another family tradition?” I ask.

She nods. “My family loves board games.”

Mother chuckles, surprising me. “Reminds me of our time at school. Your mother…” she trails off, clearly not wanting to say anymore.

Brooke smiles warmly.

“She told me all about it,” she admits with a grin, a knowing look passing between them.

“What board games does your niece like to play?” Avril asks, coming to stand next to us.

“We play Monopoly, although she also likes to play Scruples, but I think that’s more to see her dad and uncles squirm.”

Avril laughs. “She sounds like my kind of person,” she says, shooting her dad and me a look.

“Don’t get any ideas,” I grumble, making her laugh.

I love my niece, but she has her father wrapped around her little finger. I think it’s mainly because he doesn’t want to be cut out of her life, especially when he works in London, and she’s here in the States. Sometimes I wonder if he’s making a rod for his own back, never standing up to her.

“I think you’d like her,” Brooke says with a wink.

I move away, not wanting to crowd our new arrival. Her laughter fills the air, like a punch to my solar plexus. Even Mother is smiling.

The Brooke Effect. That’s what I’m going to call it. I know she’s constantly being invited out in the office, but declines politely, unless that’s just for my benefit, not that I’ve heard anything to the contrary.

Elaine appears, announcing that lunch is ready.

Gabbi has placed all Brooke’s table presents at the correct place settings.

Avril picks up her beautifully wrapped gift.

A keeper of secrets and memories you hold dear,

I have a spine, but no bones.

Not to be shared unless you choose

With a key kept next to your heart.

Avril’s face lights up.

“A journal?”

Brooke smiles, and my gaze settles on my niece as she tears open the wrapping, her expression one of pure delight. She holds the beautiful journal close to her chest.

“It’s gorgeous. And it has a lock.”

I quirk an eyebrow.

“No teenager wants their thoughts scrutinised,” Brooke says.

“Thank you, Brooke,” Avril says. “I shall start writing in it tonight.”

We move around the table, every gift is incredibly well thought out. Then it’s my turn.

I pick up my gift. Whatever it is, is hidden inside a box.

I’m born hot, not cold

Often forgotten while emergencies unfold.

Problem now solved.

Avril giggles.

I shake the present.

“A mug?” I say, thinking the box is the size of an average coffee cup.

“I was tempted, but you have so many,” Brooke admits. “Your ‘CEO’ and ‘Bossman’ mugs take up half the kitchen cupboard.”

“It’s not my fault everyone wants to buy the CEO a mug.”

Enzo rolls his eyes.

“You can’t talk. You’ve got the same in London,” Gabbi says.

Enzo runs St Clair’s London-based jewellery division.

“Born hot, not cold?”

“You’re close, think outside the box.”

“Come on, Uncle Alex.”

“Something to do with my coffee?” I ask, holding the box to my ear and gently shaking it.

“Yes.”

Brooke grins, clearly loving this, and I can see why. Her family tradition has been so well received that I suspect our family may adopt it. Even Mother looks entertained.

“Something to warm my coffee?”

“Close enough,” she says, her bright eyes meeting mine.

Unable to help myself, I grin as I tear open the wrapping paper and stare down at the box inside. A smart mug warmer.

“You sit your coffee on it, and it keeps it warm,” Brooke says, although her expression is less certain now that I’ve opened it.

“It’s fantastic. I shall look forward to trying it in the new year. I’m over drinking cold coffee. This can be my New Year’s resolution.”

She shoots me a shy smile.

“Your turn,” Gabbi says.

She’s rearranged the seating plan to ensure she’s sitting next to Brooke.

Brooke’s cheeks darken.

“Read it out,” Avril says.

I have no key, hinges or lid

A little sparkle, a little shine,

but not to be hid

I come in a pair but have no legs.

Brooke picks up the tiny box, her eyes darting to Gabbi.

“You didn’t,” she whispers.

“You said you liked them.” Gabbi grins.

My sister loves giving gifts. Another thing she and Brooke have in common.

“What, what is it?” Avril says, clearly enjoying this part of Christmas.

“Earrings?” she asks, and Gabbi grins.

Brooke tears open the wrapping, her eyes popping wide as she takes in the gift my sister has given her. Diamond earrings.

“This is too much,” Brooke says.

“No, it’s not. They’re St Clair. You said you liked mine, so what better gift than your own set? I had Enzo bring them over.”

Gabbi pulls back her hair, revealing a pair of earrings identical to the set Brooke now has in her hands.

Brooke’s eyes glisten. “Thank you, I shall treasure them.”

Mother claps her hands, breaking the moment. “Elaine is ready to serve.”

Christmas dinner is a jovial affair, with Brooke bringing an easy sense of warmth to the table, and when Mother glances over, I can almost read her mind.

“I told you so.”

I want to roll my eyes but don’t, because for the first time in years, Mother and Father have also kept their snipes to a minimum. Brooke’s sense of humour and positive outlook on life are infectious.

After dessert, Elaine brings in the tea and coffee.

“Brooke, how are you finding it working for my grumpy arse older brother?” Enzo asks.

Although he was raised Stateside and was only four when our grandfather retired, handing the reins of St Clair to our mother, Enzo, like me, speaks with a British accent. His years at a British boarding school having rubbed off on him too.

Brooke shoots me a grin, one that lands straight in the centre of my chest. I arch an eyebrow and smirk as Gabbi playfully grips Brooke’s forearm.

“You don’t have to lie. You’re in a safe space,” she tells her seriously.

“Hey, I’m not that bad,” I say, making everyone around the table laugh.

“Darling, you are the epitome of professionalism. Meticulous in every way. I was bad, but you take perfectionism to a whole new level,” Mother chimes in.

“And as a leading shareholder, I’m making you a lot of money,” I add.

“True.” She smiles. “I’m not complaining.”

“Brooke?”

“He’s not so bad when you get used to him,” she says, shooting me a sideways glance, her eyes sparkling. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen her since she started working for me. “And the job is amazing. I’ve learned so much.”

“Do you think you’d like to go into fashion after this?” Father asks.

“Er, I…” Brooke recovers, straightening her shoulders. “It’s something I’ve always been fascinated with,” she admits, but I don’t miss the look she shoots my mother.

What the hell?

Was I right all along? Are they colluding?

“You’re in the right place if Sandro ever lets you go. I’m not sure Callie will be coming back. Once she has her baby, I can’t see her wanting to leave it,” Father says, shooting Mother one of his looks. The fact that she went to work, left us with a host of nannies and eventually sent Enzo and me to boarding school had never sat well with him. Not that he was willing to stay at home and raise us. It would be called a double standard today. Back then, Mother was a pioneer. One of the leading women in fashion.

“And that will be her choice,” Mother says quietly, shooting Brooke a smile. “When the time comes, you’ll have a decision to make.”

Brooke drops her gaze, and I question once more what it is between them.

Mother catches me watching and plasters on a smile. One that doesn’t fool me. She knows I’ve seen. She also knows I’ll stop at nothing to protect my loved ones.

What are you up to?

I should trust her. Whatever she knows, she wouldn’t risk everything we’ve worked so hard to build for an outsider.

Avril breaks the silence.

“Now we’ve eaten, can we play Charades?”

CHAPTER 32

HARPER

Christmas dinner with the Bianchis is more fun than I expected. Alex’s family is like my own. Enzo reminds me of Caleb. To the outside world, he is fun and frivolous, while underneath it all, he’s searching for something. His obvious devotion to his daughter reminds me of Eli.

Gabbi is like me. She has fought hard to be heard in a family full of dominant males, despite it being ruled by a matriarch. But then our family’s no different. My father may have been the figurehead, the one who went out and made the money, but Mum was the backbone, holding it all together. It’s probably why everything didn’t completely fall apart when Dad died—well, for some of us.

Avril leads Charades. As there are seven of us, we split into boys versus girls.

It’s Gabbi’s turn. She twists herself into all sorts of shapes, throwing her arms around.

“Snow,” Avril shouts, earning herself a thumbs-up.

“Time’s running out,” Enzo shouts a little too enthusiastically.

Probably because the women are two points ahead.

“Mobile?”

Gabbi shakes her head.

“Storm?”

Another no.

She makes one more move.

“Time’s up.”

Gabbi drops into the chair next to me.

“Gents?” I say.

“Easy… Snow White,” Alex says with a grin.

We groan.

“Come on, that was an easy one,” Gabbi says.

“When you know the answer,” Avril says, throwing herself back against the sofa.

“Last round. Our guests will be arriving soon,” Sophia says.

My heart stutters, and I glance across at her, but she merely smiles back warmly.

Shit, does she not realise how risky this is?

Alex gets up before I can make my excuse.

“For a draw,” he says to his team.

His competitive side is coming out.

Gabbi flips the timer over.

He gestures broadly, sweeping his arms around. This is a side of him I never thought I’d see. His barriers are down, the same way Gabriel’s and Elijah’s are when they’re safe inside the family home.

“Big,” Edoardo shouts, earning himself a grin from his son.

“Time’s running out, gents,” Gabbi says gleefully. “You’re going down.”

“Shut up, sis,” Enzo says, sitting forward, his arse perched on the edge of the sofa.

Alex scowls and stomps around the room.

The expressions on his teammates’ faces are ones of total confusion. Having played this game many times at parties in my teenage years, I think I know what he’s doing.

“Time’s up. Last guess.”

The two men look at each other, completely perplexed.

“Come on,” Alex says. “My dramatics weren’t that bad.”

The look Enzo shoots him sets Sophia and Avril off into a fit of giggles. I don’t think I could ever have imagined Sophia this relaxed. She’s always appeared so… proper.

He drops onto the sofa next to his father and brother.

“Bloody useless.” He huffs. “Ladies?”

We all look at each other and grin.

“Big Bad Wolf,” we chime as one.

“No wonder we didn’t get it. He was being himself,” Enzo says, jumping up as Alex goes to clock him around the back of his head. “No violence, brother dearest.”

The doorbell goes, announcing the first guest.

“That was fun,” Sophia says, standing up and smoothing down her immaculate dress, her features settling once more into their usual stoic expression.

“Granny, can we play again later?” Avril asks.

“I think it will probably be too late, darling, maybe tomorrow,” she says, running a hand over Avril’s hair affectionately.

“Mrs Bianchi, your guests are arriving,” Elaine says, appearing at the door.

“Show them in,” she says, ushering us to our feet as the first guests enter. “You’ve got this,” she whispers as she passes me before plastering on a smile and air-kissing the first woman through the door. “Darling, it’s so good you could make it.”

“We’d never miss one of your parties, Sophia, you know that.”

I step back, only to have Gabbi grip my arm.

“Don’t worry, we meet, we greet, we full-on retreat,” she says conspiratorially in my ear. When I look at her, she wiggles her eyebrows.

“Won’t we be missed?” I ask.

“In a room full of Mother and Father’s friends. Not likely. Alex is the only one who can’t get away. The rest of us are of little value to this lot. Unless someone wants an item of jewellery, then Enzo must play nice, but usually he just tells them to call him during office hours and moves swiftly on.”

“So, Alex will spend the rest of the evening talking business?”

My heart goes out to him.

“The joys of being CEO,” Gabbi says. “He doesn’t mind. You can’t have missed the fact that my older brother lives, breathes and eats St Clair and has done since Loretta left him for Myles.”

“But they’re still friends?”

“They are. He has a lot of respect for her. He knows he was a shitty husband.”

From Gabbi’s comment, I get the impression she blames her brother entirely for the breakdown of their marriage and is unhappy that their relationship ended.

“They couldn’t have children,” Gabbi continues, sharing more than I’m sure Alex would be happy with, especially with his PA. “Loretta was desperate for a child. They tried for years, but nothing happened. I don’t think he understood how important having a child was to her until she wasn’t there anymore.”

Gabbi must sense my confusion.

“She has two little girls now and is ecstatically happy with Myles. He’s a lovely man. Fantastic husband and father.”

My mind wanders to Leah and her desire for a child and how it brought her and my brother Gabriel together.

Was it that he didn’t understand, or that he couldn’t control the situation? I don’t know him well, but I know Alex likes to be in control of every aspect. Fertility treatment is not an exact science, and he may have seen it as a failure on his part.

The door opens, and a new guest walks in. I recognise her immediately.

Sophia steps up. “Aubrey, welcome. It’s lovely to finally meet you.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” she says, sharing an air-kiss with Sophia.

She’s tall, lithe and stunning.

My gaze shifts to Alex, whose head has shot up. A frown mars his brow as he excuses himself from the guests he’s talking to and makes his way towards her.

Aubrey steps forward to meet him. “Darling, surprise,” she says, leaning forward for a kiss.

“Aubrey, I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, his tone neutral, one I recognise when he’s trying to cover his displeasure. Why is he unhappy she’s here?

“Isn’t that the entire purpose of a surprise?” she says, not taking the hint and pressing her lips to his.

His frame tenses.

“Mother?” he says, turning to face her.

“I thought it was about time we met officially. You two have been seeing each other for a while now. All very cloak and dagger,” she says, giving Aubrey a little nudge with her elbow.

Alex’s cheeks darken.

“Oh hell, he looks like he’s about to blow,” Gabbi says at my side. “You’d have thought our mother would have learned by now.”

“Do parents ever learn?” I say, thinking back to Mum’s disastrous matchmaking skills.

Although, to be fair, she did drive Gabriel and Leah together, even if it was Gabriel trying to dodge being set up in the beginning.

When we look back, Aubrey and Alex have disappeared. They reappear a while later and begin mingling with the crowd. My stomach clenches as I watch them together. She moves around the room with grace and elegance, schmoozing everyone. Even her laugh is delicate and perfect.

The party goes on. I stick to non-alcoholic drinks, despite a growing desire to hide in the corner and drink myself into oblivion. Gabbi introduces me to some of the more bearable attendees. I let Harper surface beneath Brooke’s persona. It is, after all, the only way I’ve got through similar events at home. Being a Frazer has always meant playing the part I was born into, whether I felt comfortable doing it or not. Dad’s funeral was the worst, having to stand there and accept everyone’s deepest condolences, listening to everyone tell me how sorry they were for our loss, what an amazing man he was.

I wanted to stand there and shout, “I know, he was my dad, and it’s all my fault he’s gone.”

But being a Frazer, I didn’t. I stood there, accepted their air kisses and sympathetic glances, before thanking them for coming and telling them how much Dad would have appreciated it.

“Brooke, are you all right?” Gabbi asks.

I shake myself mentally and give her a wan smile.

“Just a little tired. My family called early this morning. They keep forgetting there’s a time difference.”

“Do you want me to arrange for Benjamin to take you home?”

“No need. Aubrey and I are about to leave. I’m driving back to the city tonight. I can take Brooke home,” Alex says, appearing in front of us.

“I thought you were staying?” Avril says, her face dropping.

He grips her shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “I’ll be back in the morning, probably before you’ve even opened your eyes.”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely.”

Gabbi shoots him a look, an unspoken question passing between the siblings.

Aubrey appears at his side.

“Everything all right, darling?” she asks, her hand coming to rest on his forearm.

His gaze drops to her hand, and she lets it fall to her side.

“Are you going to introduce us?” Gabbi asks.

“Gabriella, this is Aubrey. Aubrey, this is my sister Gabriella.”

I notice he doesn’t introduce her as Gabbi, and warmth blooms inside my chest.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“This is Brooke Feldmann,” he says.

“Ah, Brooke. Why do I know that name?”

I hold out my hand. “We’ve spoken on the telephone several times.”

“Ah, you’re the PA.” Her tone makes it clear that I’m meant to take it as a slur. “You’re the one who never puts me through,” she adds.

Alex turns to her. “Yes, because she’s good at her job.”

Ouch.

His jaw flexes. He’s mad. Is it because Aubrey’s here, or is there more afoot?

“Always working.” She tuts, trying to cover up his verbal slap.

She reminds me of so many of the men and women I grew up around, all carrying the same air of entitlement Mum slapped out of us from a very young age.

“Brooke, if you’d like a ride back into the city, I’ll be leaving in five minutes.”

“Great,” I say to his retreating back.

“I’ll be back. I just need to powder my nose.” Aubrey turns and heads in the opposite direction.

“Methinks there’s a shit tonne of trouble in paradise,” Gabbi hisses under her breath, but there’s also an element of glee. I’m getting the impression she’s unimpressed with her brother’s choice of lady friend.

I remain silent, not wanting to fuel the fire or make assumptions.

Gabbi grips my arm. “Sorry, it’s just that she’s one of those. I can see it as plain as the nose on your face.”

“One of them?”

“Someone who sees Alex as a means to an end. Models, actresses, wannabe designers. Since Loretta left, there has been a constant stream. He’s usually better at spotting them, but Aubrey…”

“Maybe he genuinely likes her?” I say.

She raises an eyebrow. “Does his behaviour tonight tell you they’re a match made in heaven?”

I incline my head but decide I’m better off staying quiet. It’s not my place to make a judgement on Alex’s love life.

“I better say goodbye to your parents and Enzo,” I say, giving her forearm a squeeze.

“I’ll come with you. I may retire for the night. Not sure I can stand much more of this social posturing.”

We approach Sophia and Edoardo, who are holding court in the centre of the room.

“Ah, Brooke, how are you enjoying yourself?” Edoardo asks.

“It’s been a wonderful party, thank you,” I say with a smile as Gabbi whispers “Liar,” in my ear.

“Brooke is our son’s incredibly efficient PA,” he continues.

“Delightful,” one of the women says.

It’s impossible to miss the dismissal.

I seriously hope my family aren’t seen this way. Although if my brothers behaved this way, Leah, April, and Pen, all of whom come from humble beginnings, would have something to say about it.

“I just wanted to come and say goodnight,” I say.

“You’re leaving already?” Sophia asks.

“Alex has offered to drive me back into the city. He’s apparently taking Aubrey home.”

“Is he now…” Sophia says, her eyes drifting towards the door, where he’s standing, waiting.

“I better go,” I say. “Thank you for a wonderful day.”

Sophia steps forward and pulls me in for a hug.

“Will you join us for New Year?” she asks.

“I…”

“Think about it.”

“Please do,” Gabbi says.

Alex appears at my side, his energy barely contained. “Are you ready?”

Edoardo pulls me in for a hug. “Lovely to meet you,” he says. “Safe trip home.”

“Thank you again.”

Enzo appears at my side, pulling me into a hug.

“Next time I’m on your team,” he says. “It was lovely to finally meet you. Don’t let my brother be a big bad wolf.”

Alex growls, making him hug me even tighter.

“Put my PA down,” he hisses at his brother.

He does as he’s told, but shoots me a conspiratorial wink.

“See you soon, Brooke.”

“Bye, Enzo. Lovely meeting you.”

Gabbi is next. “I wish you weren’t going. You’ve kept me sane,” she says against my ear.

“I’ll hopefully catch you soon. When do you head back to Italy?”

“Straight after New Year,” she says, her face dropping. “I’ll message you.”

“Coming?” Alex says, his patience clearly running thin.

“Absolutely.”

We exit quickly before anyone else can stop us, although the urgency is more his than mine. Here I’m a nobody, just a lowly PA. I wonder if they’d act differently if they knew who I really am? Of course they would. The thought makes me queasy. A realisation hits. I don’t want them to know. I’m enjoying being Brooke. No one is expecting anything of me, asking the impossible. I’ve shed the chains I’ve borne all my life. I don’t have to worry about expectations. People are free to choose if they like me. People like Gabriella. She’s chosen me, not because I’m wealthy and we’re from the same social circles, but because I’m someone she wants to spend time with.

Aubrey is waiting in the hallway. Her coat is already on, her Hermès bag draped over her forearm.

She turns and walks towards the door as we approach.

Okay then, all is definitely not well in paradise.

I thought Gabbi was exaggerating, but now I can sense the annoyance emanating from the man next to me.

Aubrey moves to the passenger side.

Alex holds open the rear car door so I can slide in.

“It’s open,” he calls across to Aubrey.

The air within the car crackles with unspoken tension as he fires up the engine and heads out of the main gates.

“I really don’t see what the big deal is,” Aubrey says, her tone sullen after about twenty minutes of almost unbearable silence. “It was your mother who invited me.”

“We’ve discussed this.” His eyes meet mine in the rear-view mirror, and I look away.

Awkward!

“Well, she’s not wrong. We have been together a long time,” she says, twisting in her seat to stare at him.

“We see each other sporadically,” he says, his tone clipped.

“Maybe it’s time I moved on… if I’m wasting my time?” she says, her tone sullen. “I’m not getting any younger. I don’t want to waste the best years of my life on someone who isn’t interested.”

I cringe. This is not something I want to listen to.

Back seat swallow me up.

She clearly has a death wish if she can’t sense the agitation rolling off him.

“Maybe you should,” he says.

There’s no mistaking the finality of it.

Shit, I’ve just witnessed Alessandro break up with his girlfriend.

“You don’t mean that,” she says. “Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says quietly. “This has been coming for a while.”

“Fun while it lasted, you mean,” she says, unable to hide the bitterness in her tone. “I should have realised it wasn’t her blocking my calls.”

“Leave Brooke out of this,” he says.

“You’re the one who is breaking up with me in front of your PA,” she says, her voice catching.

“We discussed this at the house. You’re the one who’s brought it up in front of Brooke. Don’t put this on me. I won’t be manipulated, Aubrey.”

I don’t understand. She’s beautiful, a model, fits neatly into his world, but then they say the heart wants what the heart wants. I should know.

My heart wants what it can never have.

“Of course not, you’re Alessandro Bianchi, CEO of St Clair. I’m just some washed-up model.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

Oh heavens, cut the crap, woman. Please try to retain some form of dignity.

Begging is never a good look and never works, except in Darra’s case, but then she pulled the pregnancy card.

Alex pulls up outside a beautiful apartment block.

“What? You’re dropping me home first?” she says, swivelling once more in her seat. “I⁠—”

“We’ve said all we need to say.”

“You can’t mean that,” she says, her voice desperate. “Please, Alex⁠—”

“Aubrey, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

He sounds tired, as his hand drifts to the back of his neck, squeezing the muscles, something I’ve noticed he does when he’s tense.

“But—”

“Enough.” His sharp tone cuts through the car like a hot knife through butter. “We’re over. I’m not sure how much clearer I need to be.”

I turn away as her face crumples.

She storms out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Alex remains silent until she has disappeared into her apartment building.

“Will you please get in the front? I feel like Benjamin with you sat in the back.”

I scurry out and move to the passenger door, only to have it pushed open from the inside.

“I’d get out and hold it for you, but right now I’m tired. I just want to get home.”

I climb in.

“Sorry you had to be privy to that. I should have ordered her a cab, but unfortunately, being Christmas night…”

“No taxis,” I finish for him, and wonder whether his offer of a ride was to act as a protection against the onslaught he knew was coming. Not that it worked.

He puts the car into drive and sets off.

I stare out of the window and watch the city go by, unsure what else to say.

CHAPTER 33

HARPER

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the week? You’re on holiday, after all,” he asks after we’ve been driving for a while.

“I may do some sightseeing,” I lie.

“Anywhere in particular?”

“My favourite movie is Night at the Museum. Apparently, the museum they based it on does nighttime tours.”

“You do know it was shot in Canada, right?” he says with a smirk, his demeanour lightening.

“I know. That’s not the point. It was fiction, anyway. It’s not like I think the exhibits come to life for real. It’s the…”

“Romantic notion,” he fills in. “Oh, to be young again.”

“Don’t be a patronising arse,” I say. “You’re only two years older than my eldest sibling, and I call him out on his shit all the time.”

“I just bet you do,” he says, his eyes on the road, but his lips tilt at the edges.

“What’s your favourite movie? Rambo?”

“I’m not that old,” he says, turning to scowl at me, until he notices the twinkle I know is shining in my eyes.

I like this Alex. He’s more relaxed, carefree. It’s like the past hour with Aubrey never happened.

“Favourite movie?”

He twists his lips. “Die Hard.”

“One, two or three?”

He growls, making my stomach clench. “One, of course. Bruce Willis versus Alan Rickman…it’s a classic.”

“I concur,” I say. “But is it a Christmas movie?”

“Ah, the ongoing debate.” He chuckles.

“Well?” I press.

“To me, it is. I only watch it at Christmas. It’s set at Christmas and takes place during the holiday season.”

“But the story is about kidnapping and trying to blow up a building,” I counter.

“So, to you, it isn’t a Christmas movie?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just arguing the opposing view.”

“You’re being pedantic,” he moans.

“That as well,” I say, shooting him a grin that has him rolling his eyes.

We pull up outside my apartment building. It’s not run-down, but it’s nowhere near as salubrious as the one we dropped Aubrey off at.

“Thank you for the lift,” I say, unclasping my seatbelt. “And for allowing me to share in your family Christmas.”

“I’m not sure I was given much of a choice in the latter,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry about that. Sophia is a force of nature.”

“Mother is definitely that,” he says. “But it was good having you there. Mother and Father were on their best behaviour. I’m not sure I’ve seen them sit together amicably for that long in years.”

“Yet they’re still together?”

“They love each other in their own sick and twisted way. They have quite different values, and it’s been a bone of contention between them for years. I think Dad was hoping by leaving, he’d force her hand to slow down.”

“Oh,” is all I can muster, surprised he’s sharing so much with me.

“Gabbi likes you. She’s had a hard time of it and has found herself caught in the middle. Not wanting to take sides.”

“I like her too,” I tell him truthfully.

“Just watch Enzo. He’s a flirt, but…”

“I have a brother exactly the same as Enzo. He’s still very much in love with Avril’s mother,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Beautiful and incredibly perceptive. You surprise me more and more every day.”

I drop my gaze, unsure he realises what he just said.

“The joy of being the youngest of five siblings. I grew up watching all their dramas unfold. No one notices the little sister in the corner.”

“Somehow I find it hard to believe you were happy to shrink into the background.”

It’s my turn to smirk. “My older brother had something to say when I turned up with purple hair.”

Alex lifts a hand and runs several strands through his fingers.

“Purple?”

I swallow.

Shit. A slip of the tongue.

Brooke is a quiet, mild-mannered woman, not the type to choose a wild dye job.

“It was a dare,” I lie, hating myself just a little bit more. “It didn’t last long.”

I lift my gaze, our eyes clashing. His pupils dilate, and I become aware of my quickening heartbeat.

Before I can think twice, I lean forward and brush my lips against his. He doesn’t push me away. Instead, his hand slides up and around the back of my head, sinking into my hair, pulling me more tightly against him. Our mouths move against one another. I inhale sharply as my stomach muscles contract. The need to be closer, to demand more, floods my system. For the first time, I want to go further, all the way.

I moan.

He takes that as an invitation, deepening our kiss, his tongue entering my mouth, duelling with mine. He lifts me until I’m half across his lap, his cock hard beneath my thigh.

I pull back sharply, my hands resting against his chest, his rapid heartbeat thundering in time with mine. But this is all kinds of wrong. He’s just broken up with his girlfriend in front of me.

He loosens his hold, enabling me to pull back, though not move away entirely. He closes his eyes, his forehead dropping against mine.

“Shit, Brooke, I’m sorry. That was…”

I laugh drily.

“You’re sorry? But I kissed you.”

His eyes open as he stares at me. “Did you?”

My brow furrows. I know I wanted to. I’ve been thinking about what it would feel like to be kissed by him since our brief encounter in Italy.

My hands fly to my cheeks, mortified. What was I thinking? What must he be thinking?

After Italy, I said this would never happen again.

Before my brain explodes, I slide across the car into my seat and grab the door handle, throwing myself out of the car. He doesn’t stop me or follow as I hurry inside my building. I look back through the glass door, my heart thundering, every nerve ending alive as I watch him sitting in his car. Our gazes meet for a second before I turn away.

I race upstairs, throwing myself into the apartment, pressing my back against the now-closed front door.

Shit, shit, shit!

CHAPTER 34

ALEX

Iwatch her run into her building like her arse is on fire.

Fuck, what was I thinking?

I clearly wasn’t, at least not with my brain.

Brooke has been an anomaly since she entered my life, turning my thoughts upside down. The guys have teased me relentlessly, no doubt able to see what I couldn’t admit to myself or had chosen to ignore… My physical attraction to my PA.

I drop my forehead against the steering wheel before sitting up. She turns as she enters the building, shooting me one last glance before she disappears.

“What the fuck, Sandro,” I hiss, using the nickname my parents have always used. “You’re her boss and fifteen years her senior. Sue in HR would have a fit, not to mention everyone else.”

But that doesn’t stop the longing in my chest, or the throbbing of my cock when I think about the taste of her lips on mine.

Fuck!

The streets are surprisingly quiet. Most of the Christmas revellers are on foot rather than driving.

I pull into the underground garage of my building.

The elevator arrives immediately when I call it, taking me straight to the penthouse.

My penthouse spans two floors and offers three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views of New York from its various rooms.

I pour myself a scotch and down it in one. The burn at the back of my throat offers a small measure of relief.

I pour another, carrying it towards the window and staring down at the city below.

I stayed off alcohol all day, not wanting to compromise my judgement.

Ha, how did that work out for you, old man?

I can almost hear Dante’s gibe.

I don’t know what it is about her. It’s like she’s mature beyond her years. Like she understands the life I live, but that’s impossible. You have to have been raised in this fucked up world to understand the fake smiles and air kisses shared among so-called friends who would stab you in the back at the first opportunity.

It’s why I fell in love with Loretta. She may have been a model, but she was normal. Raised by working-class parents, she had developed a backbone that meant she could hold her own and was not afraid of hard work. In all the time we were together, her head was never turned by the fake glitz and glamour that surrounded us. I was the one to fuck that up.

I take another swallow, throwing my head back.

I don’t even blame her.

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

“I’m leaving you,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

It’s been a long day… a long week if I’m honest, and my body is bone-weary.

“I’ve tried, Alex, I really have,” she says, tears streaming down her cheeks. “But it takes two to make a marriage work. I can’t do it alone.”

I take a step forward, unsure where this has come from, but pause when she steps back. I run a hand through my hair. “Do we have to do this now? I’ve had a really bad day. Let me grab a quick shower and we can talk.”

She smiles sadly. “That’s the problem. It’s all work. I’ve been trying to do this, make you listen to me for months. It’s not working. I want more.” She lets out a sob. “No, I deserve more.”

My eyes are drawn to the suitcases by her feet.

Fuck! She means it.

“Look, I’m not sure what’s happened but I promise to try harder.” A crushing pain hits my chest.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I love you. I think a part of me always will, but I can’t cope with being your second or third choice.”

“You’re not,” I say, the desperation in my tone growing. I reach for her again, but she sidesteps. “I love you too, Lori. We can work this out.”

She shakes her head sadly.

“No, we can’t. I’ve tried, but I’ve been alone in this for too long.”

“Are you talking about not getting pregnant? We can see someone.”

Another tear trails down her cheek.

“I made the appointment.”

I stare at her, confused.

“It was today, Alex. You never showed,” she says. “I waited and waited.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. Today was…”

“That’s the problem. Today is always going to be one of those days. I’ve begun to realise that. I can’t ask you to change. You’re the man I fell in love with. But we have different priorities.”

“Please, Lori…”

“I’m sorry, Alex.” Her voice catches. “I can’t do this anymore.”

I shake my head frantically.

“Lori…”

“Goodbye, Alex. My lawyer will be in touch.”

I look to the doorway. The one she walked through without a backward glance five years ago.

It was later that I found out about Myles. The mild-mannered NFL player with a heart-of-gold whom she’d met the year before. Not that I blame her. She begged me to be there for her, and I let her down in the worst possible way. She’d given me one last chance, only I hadn’t known that it was. I’d been too caught up in my own crazy world to recognise it. I have no one but myself to blame for that breakdown. Now she’s happy. She and Myles have beautiful twins. They’re deeply in love, sharing the life they’ve built together.

My thoughts drift back to Brooke.

Shit.

I pick up my phone.

ME:

Brooke, I’m sorry. That was totally inappropriate.

A blue tick appears, letting me know she’s read it. Nothing.

I drink more scotch, wondering how many ways Sue in HR can skin me alive for my stupidity.

My phone pings.

BROOKE:

Don’t worry. It’s been a stressful night.

ME:

That’s no excuse.

BROOKE:

Please forget it. I have. It’s Christmas. Thank you for a lovely day with your family.

I stare at her words.

Forget it! She has…

My chest bubbles as I read her words. Was she as affected by the kiss as I was?

It’s Christmas.

Is she giving me an out for my stupidity? I know I should grasp it with both hands, but… she’s right. It was a stressful night. There’s still the New Year’s party. I heard Mother invite her. Maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to her then.

ME:

Goodnight, Brooke. Merry Christmas.

I hit send and throw my phone down on the sofa behind me. Closing my eyes, I think about her scent, the feel of her lips pressed against mine. My body hardens instantly.

You’re a sick man. You dumped one woman, and then pulled another straight into your arms, devouring her on the front seat of your car. What were you thinking?

It’s clear you weren’t. At least not with a sentient part of your anatomy!

I strip off my clothes and head for the shower, turning the water to cold.

I step in, the icy jets stealing my breath.

Fuck.

My cock ignores the chill, throbbing until I take it in hand.

I turn up the temperature, allowing my chilled skin to thaw.

What are you doing? Masturbating like a horny teenager to the memory of a mere kiss.

I squeeze my cock hard, moaning at the sensation before grabbing my shower gel and squirting some onto my hand. I grip myself hard, pumping up and down. I drop my head forward under the spray, blocking out the rest of the world. I close my eyes.

Imagining Brooke’s delicate hands touching and caressing me… I come with a force I haven’t felt in a long time. My cum hits my stomach coating my fingers. My body shudders with release as exhaustion from the day, from Aubrey and then Brooke, overtakes me.

I shower off the evidence of my desire for a woman I have no right to want. Part of me is disgusted, the other is intrigued.

I drop face-down onto the bed. Tomorrow, I’ll face my mother and set her straight. No interfering in my love life. If I want Mother to meet someone I’m seeing, I’ll damn well introduce them myself. I don’t expect to be blindsided. Although in some ways she’s helped me. Aubrey and I had already reached a crossroads. It was a matter of when, not if, we parted ways. As for Brooke, that was unexpected, and not something I’ll be sharing with my mother. I just hope Brooke feels the same way. If not, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do.

CHAPTER 35

HARPER

New Year’s Eve.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kat asks.

“I’m fine, honestly. I just fancied a quiet night.”

“Harps, it’s halfway through the day for you. Surely, you’re doing something tonight? You love New Year’s Eve.”

“Keeping my head down, remember? Anyway. I’ve been invited to a party. I’m just not feeling it.”

“Now I know something’s wrong.”

“No, that was the old me. What you’re experiencing is the new and improved version. Brooke has been good for me, showing me that I prefer my own company to other people’s.”

“There are too many changes, little sis. I’m worried.”

That’s not entirely true. I’ve always been a bit of a loner, preferring to keep my counsel. However, since Dad died, the voices and the guilt have made my head an unfriendly place to be.

I chuckle. “Is there a time when you haven’t worried about me? Even as a little girl, you would jump every time I got the slightest scratch.”

“Which was all the time, if I remember correctly, as you tried to keep up with the boys.”

“Exactly. I’ve never been a shrinking violet. More the rough-and-tumble, tree-climbing type of girl.”

“I think they’re called tomboys,” Caleb shouts from the background. “Hey, Harps, Happy New Year, little sis.”

“Same back to you, you clown.”

“Pen and Elijah want to speak to you,” Kat says. “Love you, little sis. Stay safe.”

“Love you too, Kitty-Kat.”

“Hey, Harper,” Pen says, coming on the line.

“Hey, Pen. How are you doing? I hope you’re keeping my big brother in line?”

“Of course. That’s one of the reasons we wanted to talk to you.”

“You’re getting married?” I ask, my heart hammering in my chest.

This is the best news. I love Pen. She’s been like an adopted sister to me. She and Kat have always taken on my brothers whenever they forgot I was seven years their junior. She’s also been my style icon. I’ve spent the past few years modelling myself on her and her take-no-shit attitude, wearing it like armour. She’s always understood and supported me from the sidelines when everyone else saw only rebellion.

“Not quite,” she says.

“Although we will be as soon as the stubborn woman agrees,” Elijah says with a harrumph.

I chuckle.

“We’re pregnant,” Pen announces.

“Pen,” I squeal. “I can’t believe it.”

“Neither can I,” she says.

“How long?”

“I found out just after you left. I’ve not wanted to jinx it,” she says.

After I left. Eleven weeks ago.

“I’m so happy for you. I wish I were there to give you a big hug,” I say, swallowing against the lump forming in my throat. I don’t need to be emotional around them and have them worry about me.

“We’ll get you home soon,” Pen says.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be an aunty again. The Frazer brood is really growing.”

I don’t even ask how Lottie’s taking the news. I know my niece. She’ll be ecstatic. She loves Pen with all her heart. She was over the moon when she found out her godmother and father were together.

“Hello, darling,” Mum says.

“Hey, Mum. How are you?”

“Missing you,” she says, her voice sad. It’s been that way for months now. “It’s simply not the same.”

“Hey, it won’t be forever. And I had a great Christmas with Sophia and her family. I think I’ve introduced a new Christmas tradition for them.”

“Let me guess, table presents? They always were your favourite.”

“True,” I say. “I decided that if I couldn’t be with all of you, I’d bring something of you to me.”

“Your Christmas presents are here, ready and waiting for you.”

“I know. Thank you. I love you, Mum.”

“Love you too, darling.”

“Hey, little sis.” It’s Gabe who grabs the phone next. “How are you really doing?”

“Hanging in there.” No point in lying to Gabe, he always sees straight through me.

“Still an adventure?”

I grin. “In actual fact, it is. I’m missing you all like crazy, but Brooke is also having a great time. I’m learning loads of new skills and have a front-row seat to the inner workings of a fashion house.”

“Will you still be pursuing fashion when you come back?”

“I think I will,” I say with confidence. “I’ll be looking for investors, of course.”

Gabe chuckles.

“You can count us in,” Leah says. “I’ll put you in touch with Chloe. Her brand is taking off.”

“Thank you, Leah,” I say. “How are you feeling?”

“Like an overinflated balloon, that’s ready to pop,” she says with a chuckle.

“I bet you’re still beautiful. You’re growing two little humans. How amazing is that?”

“Diana! No!”

A yell goes up from somewhere in the background, followed by childish giggles.

“That bloody dog.” Gabe huffs.

There’s a lot of scrambling and cussing.

“I’ll let you go. It sounds like you have your hands full,” I say.

“Sorry, Harps, Diana has run off with Callum’s sandwich, although I wonder, looking at my son, whether it was stolen or given.”

“Maybe fifty-fifty, knowing him,” I say. “Love to you all, take care.”

“Love you too.”

The line goes dead, my heart sinking as it always does after I’ve spoken to them.

* * *

Sophia rings a couple of hours later, and I put my college drama skills to the test.

“I’m sorry, Sophia,” I say, croaking into the phone. “I have a sore throat. I think I’m developing a fever. I’m going hot and cold. I really don’t…”

“That’s fine, darling, you rest up. Gabbi will be disappointed. She heads home tomorrow and was looking forward to seeing you before you leave, but sick is sick,” Sophia says, her tone softening.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Wrap up warm and drink lots of honey and lemon in hot water.”

“You sound like Mum.” I chuckle, giving a little cough for added effect.

“We come from the same mould.”

“Happy New Year, Sophia.”

“You too, Brooke.”

She hangs up, and I sink back onto the sofa, pulling up my throw and flicking the television on. Today is a pyjama day. For the first time in twenty-four years, I won’t be attending some kind of New Year party.

My phone pings.

GABBI:

I can’t believe you’re standing me up.

ME:

Sorry, hon. You’ll just have to have fun without me.

GABBI:

With all the crusties due to turn up. Please!

ME:

You’ll be fine. Enzo will keep you company. He seems to have got dodging down to a fine art.

GABBI:

He’s already escaped back to London. Some emergency.

ME:

You can always message me.

GABBI:

Don’t. I may take you up on that. Oh goodie, all Alex’s friends have just turned up.

ME:

Behave yourself.

She told me how she likes to wind them up every year and had been looking forward to having me as her wingwoman.

GABBI:

Of course. I’ll only torture them for a bit.

I can almost hear her laughing.

GABBI:

Better go. You rest up.

I’m feeling guilty for letting her down, but the thought of coming face to face with Alex right now is more than I can handle, especially in front of his family. It will be bad enough in two days when I’m back at work. That kiss, and his apology when we both know it was me who kissed him, is all I’ve been able to think about.

Ground open up and swallow me. What the hell was I thinking?

He’s so far out of my league.

Well, that’s not technically true, but he is so far out of Brooke’s league, and she’s not even real. Even if I wanted to pursue something, I couldn’t. Everything about my life since I met him has been based on a lie. I could tell him, admit everything, but Sophia has been so good to me, has begged me not to damage her relationship with her son, and I know there’s tension between them. And the last thing I want to do is cause further issues.

Most of all, I know Alex will never be able to trust me again.

I drop my head into my hands.

Come on, The Seamstress, you need to work your magic, get me out of here.

My phone pings again. Alex’s name flashes up.

I groan.

ALEX:

You’re not coming?

ME:

I’ve picked up some bug that’s going around.

ALEX:

Are you avoiding me?

Whatever gave you that idea?

I roll my eyes.

ME:

No, I’m sick.

ALEX:

As long as you are.

ME:

You’re wishing me sick?

ALEX:

That’s not what I meant, and you know it.

ME:

Sounded like it.

ALEX:

Go back to bed and drink hot lemon and honey.

ME:

You sound like your mother.

ALEX:

Heaven help me. I’ll see you on Monday.

ME:

You will.

ALEX:

Only if you’re better.

Guilt hits me. When will this end? I hardly recognise myself. What’s even real anymore? I don’t even know if I can trust my judgement.

ME:

Only if I’m better.

Which, of course, I know I will be. But I can’t hide from him forever.

ALEX:

Happy New Year, Brooke.

ME:

Happy New Year to you too.

I throw myself back onto the sofa and stare up at the ceiling. I’ve got it bad. The man’s got me tied up in knots with all his broody, no-nonsense charm. Not to mention the fact he’s tall, dark, and disgustingly handsome. Now he’s messaging me? Checking I’m okay. Or is he scared I might run to HR and tell the world we kissed? Not bloody likely. He won’t look like the desperate one. That would be me.

I’m in trouble. I haven’t slept properly since Christmas night. After I finally got into bed, I tossed and turned, only to wake in the throes of a powerful orgasm, my core contracting violently after dreaming about… oh boy!

The feel of his cock beneath my thigh when he pulled me into his lap.

My body pulses every time I think about it. His mouth on mine. Only in my dream, I didn’t pull away and he didn’t stop. In my dream, his lips travelled down my body, his tongue and fingers doing wicked things to my nipples and then my pussy. I straddled his lap before he pushed up my dress and thrust into me hard and fast.

I close my eyes and wait for my body to come back down to earth.

On Monday, I must face him. Look into those enormous blue eyes, stare at his full lips, knowing exactly how they taste.

Shit! Get a grip, Harper! Brooke! Whichever one of you is lusting after him.

It was a dream.

So now I’ve lied… again.

Because you’re a chicken…

No shit… Absolutely, I am!

One who’s supposed to be keeping her head down and staying off everyone’s radar. Not kissing her boss after Christmas dinner, when he’s just broken up with his girlfriend.

Where’s the girl code in that?

I slap my forehead with the palm of my hand.

And after a week of hiding out in my apartment, I’m in serious need of company. There’s only so much diamond art and sketching one person can do. Thank goodness for night school and the starter pack they sent me. At least they’ve given me something to focus on. With classes starting on Thursday, the course has prompted me to open my sketchbook and revisit some of my old designs.

But first things first… navigating work.

CHAPTER 36

ALEX

I’m at my desk early.

Why?

Because I wanted to beat the little minx into the office.

If the guys could see me, they’d laugh. I’ve spent the past week tying myself up in knots.

I kissed my PA, or she kissed me. The truth is, it’s just semantics. What happened after our lips met was mutual and powerful.

What I’m struggling with is that I broke up with my girlfriend, who was never really my girlfriend, and I’m now having vivid and totally inappropriate sex dreams about a fucking kiss. The fact she’s my PA is bollocks now. I wouldn’t be the first CEO to fall for their PA. The fact we’re at completely different stages in our lives, not to mention the power dynamics, is a whole other argument.

Fuck!

Having left my door slightly ajar, I run a hand over the back of my neck when I hear her arrive.

My heart rate picks up.

Is she feeling better?

Was she really sick?

I was tempted to drop round for a visit but decided that was a little stalkerish. And if she wasn’t ill, what was I going to do about it?

There’s a gentle knock on my door.

“Come in,” I say, my voice gruff.

“Good morning,” Brooke says, breezing in with coffee in hand. Her lips tilt slightly as she places it on the smart coffee warmer now sitting on my desk. “Did you have a good New Year?” she asks, stepping back.

I sit up, resting my forearms on the armrests.

“I did,” I say. “Are you feeling better?”

Colour rises in her cheeks, but she holds my gaze.

“It turned out to be a twenty-four-hour thing. A good night’s sleep, and I’m as right as rain.”

I smile. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Is there anything you need me to do urgently? If not, I’ll start on emails.”

“Already done,” I say. “I’ve been keeping on top of everything from home. I’ve sent you a few items that need addressing.” I pull up the email I forwarded to her earlier. “Fashion week is fast approaching. I need you to coordinate with the PR team on seating arrangements for the New York show, transportation between the venues, airports and hotels, and the RSVPs for the VIC invitations. Those clients must take precedence, so send a follow up to anyone who hasn’t responded.”

“Not a problem. I’ll get onto it straight away,” she says, not even blinking.

“I’ve sent you an email detailing it all.”

“Perfect, although I think I can remember all that.”

“Great,” I say.

“Great,” she says, backing towards the door.

“Brooke,” I say as she’s about to leave.

She turns, her eyes locking on mine. I can’t miss the flash of indecision.

“Are we good?” I ask.

She smiles. “Yes, we’re good.”

She turns and leaves before I can say anything else.

ME:

Who’s up for dinner?

DANTE:

It’s Dry January.

Dante, having got a little worse for wear on New Year’s Eve, ended up sleeping in the pool house.

ME:

I’m not talking about drinking. I’m saying dinner.

LEO:

Is this an SMS?

ORLANDO:

A message?

LEO:

No, doofus, Save My Soul.

ORLANDO:

Oh. Whose soul are we saving?

DANTE:

Our friend Alessandro. He split up with Aubrey.

LEO:

Wasn’t that at Christmas? Has he decided he’s heartbroken?

ME:

I’m right here on the chat!

LEO:

Are you suddenly heartbroken now?

ME:

No, it was long overdue.

I admit it, then run a hand down my face. Oh, hell, why did I think these reprobates were going to be able to help me?

LEO:

Then what am I missing?

DANTE:

More likely to do with the hot little number that works for him.

ME:

She has a name and a job title. And that’s quite a leap.

DANTE:

Not really, my dear friend. It’s called deduction. First day back in the office. It’s not even eight o’clock, and you’re messaging about dinner. Your mother also happened to mention a certain PA wasn’t attending her New Year’s Eve party, despite being invited.

ME:

She was ill.

DANTE:

Keep telling yourself that. Oh, and at said New Year’s party, you had a face like a smacked ass. Gabs also mentioned you dropped her home Christmas night.

ME:

Since when do you talk to my sister?

DANTE:

I’ve always talked to your sister. She just doesn’t usually want to talk to me.

LEO:

That’s ’cause you’re a cockalorum, and she has better taste.

DANTE:

A what?

LEO:

Cockalorum–a pompous individual with a self-inflated ego.

DANTE:

Hey, I thought you were my friend?

I shake my head. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

ORLANDO:

Oh hell, not another word-of-the-day desk calendar from Great-Aunt Mabel?

ME:

Never mind.

DANTE:

Oh no, we’re doing dinner. You called, we come. Seven thirty at the usual place.

LEO:

See you there.

ORLANDO:

Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

ME:

I’ve changed my mind.

DANTE:

Too late. If you don’t show, we’ll arrive on your doorstep.

ME:

Fine.

I throw my phone in the drawer and wonder what I’ve let myself in for. Hard to believe we’re almost forty, but then we’ve always had each other’s backs through thick and thin. These guys are among the few people I can relax around.

* * *

By the time I leave the office, my head is throbbing. I want nothing more than to head home, but I know they’ll make good on Dante’s threat and arrive on my doorstep.

Brooke has been the epitome of professionalism all day. She’s powered through all her work and, if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was trying to prove a point. She’s a professional, albeit a passionate, bold, stubborn and impulsive one, not to mention beautiful. Ahh, I need a drink!

The guys are already at our table.

I make my way over and sit down, motioning for Trina to bring me my usual.

“So?” Dante says.

I run a hand through my hair.

“We kissed.”

“Who?” Leo asks.

“For fuck’s sake, Leo, keep up,” Orlando says before shooting me a questioning look.

“I kissed Brooke.”

Dante looks at the others. “The PA who took over from Callie. The really, really beautiful one with an amazing smile.”

I glare at my closest friend, his grin widening.

“Ease up, I’m pulling your leg. Not that she isn’t beautiful, she really is.”

“She’s also twenty-four,” I say, realising I’m not even sure when her birthday is.

Fuck!

“It’s legal,” Leo says with a shrug.

I glare at him. “But I’m her boss.”

When I glance up, they’re all staring at me.

“I broke up with Aubrey in front of her.”

They remain quiet.

“For fuck’s sake, say something. Even if it’s telling me I’m a disgusting old man and should be⁠—”

“For goodness’ sake, chill. It was a kiss,” Dante says.

“Did she kiss you back? Slap your face? Knee you in the balls?” Leo chimes in.

“No, of course not… slap my face or knee me, that is.”

“So, she kissed you back?” Orlando asks.

I drag my hand down my face, stopping at my mouth.

“Yes, but then she freaked out and ran inside.”

We all sit back as our food and drinks are delivered.

“Thanks, Trina,” I say.

“My pleasure,” she says before making herself scarce again.

“You are big and scary,” Dante says with a grin. “Plus, you’ve spent a lot of time growling at her.”

“That was ages ago,” I say defensively.

“Maybe she didn’t like the way you kiss?” Leo adds, earning himself a slap from Orlando. “Hey, just pointing it out. It’s possible.”

I think back to the way she moaned in my arms, her fingers flexing against my shoulders.

“No, I can truthfully say she was completely on board.”

“Then maybe she’s had time to think and decided it’s a bad idea to get involved with her boss,” Dante reasons. “Especially if you broke up with Aubrey in front of her. Think about it.”

He’s not wrong.

“You’re right,” I say.

“You like her?” he asks. “I mean really like her? I haven’t seen you this tied up in knots since Loretta.”

“Great, thanks.” I huff.

“All I’m saying is, you have three options. You can tell her how you feel and see what she says, you can stay quiet and see if she comes around, or you can ignore it ever happened and get on with your life and date someone else.”

“Personally, I’d go with option three. Options one and two could be an HR nightmare,” Leo says.

When the others turn and glare at him, he holds up his hands in surrender. “Just stating the facts.”

“Romantic as always,” Orlando says.

“Come on, we’re all nearly forty and single. We’re clearly doing something wrong here. I wouldn’t take relationship advice from any of us,” Leo says.

He’s not wrong.

“I appreciate your input,” I say, picking up my knife and fork.

I cut into my steak.

Option two wins. Do nothing.

Because option three… therein lies the problem. I don’t want to date anyone else.

CHAPTER 37

HARPER

Iwalk down the corridor. A few people smile, but the majority are too busy checking room numbers to pay attention to those around them.

I let out a sigh of relief when I finally reach my destination. A printed A4 sheet is taped to the window.

Fashion.

My heart rate picks up as I hoist my bag onto my shoulder, gripping the handle.

Here goes.

The door opens inwards. A few faces look up from where they’re seated, scattered around the room. Only one group of women is sitting together, but they’re clearly friends, or soon will be if the conversation they’re engrossed in is anything to go by.

“Come in, come in. Don’t be shy,” a woman calls from the front. “I’m Debra. I’m your main instructor for this semester.”

I smile and step into the room. “Hi, I’m Brooke.”

“Lovely to meet you, Brooke. Take a seat.”

A young woman not much older than me moves her bag from the table beside her, smiling up at me.

“Do you mind?” I ask.

“Of course not,” she says, her accent marking her as a New Yorker. “I’m Andie,” she says.

“Hi, Andie, I’m Brooke.”

“Pleased to meet you. You here long term?” she asks.

When I frown, she grins. “Your accent, clearly not from this side of the pond.”

I return her smile. “Unsure,” I tell her truthfully. “I have a job, so who knows.”

“I have two kids at home. My parents have agreed to have them so I can complete my education,” she says.

“How old are they?”

“Seven and five,” she says. “Pregnant straight out of high school. Should have known better but wouldn’t change them for anything. Just tough, you know, without an education. Their dad’s a deadbeat. Left a couple of years ago, so it’s just us.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

She laughs. “I’m not. Best thing that could have happened.”

I smile back. “Fair enough.”

“You done much fashion before?”

“A little bit, but I had to drop out. I saw the course and decided to pick it up again.”

“That’s cool. Life has a tendency to get in the way sometimes,” she says.

“You’re telling me,” I say with an eye roll, deciding immediately I’m going to like Andie.

Debra claps her hands.

“It looks like everyone is here, and I don’t want to be late getting started. Welcome, everyone…”

She moves around the classroom, handing out the semester schedule.

“This contains all the dates for assignments and the industry professionals who’ll be coming in to work with you.”

She goes through each item in detail.

I open my notebook as she fills us in on what to expect from them and what they expect from us.

“Any questions?”

Everyone looks at their table, making her chuckle. “Don’t panic. My email is on the last page. If you have any questions, you can email them to me. If it’s something I think is beneficial for everyone, then we can go over it at the beginning of our next class.”

We all file out of the classroom.

“It was lovely meeting you, Brooke. See you on Tuesday,” Andie says as we hit the street.

“You too. Have a great weekend.”

A cab approaches, its roof light shining, but someone else gets there first.

“Get in,” a voice calls from the kerb.

My heart thunders.

“It’s okay,” I say.

The guy gets out, and I realise he’s a member of the security detail stationed in the apartment opposite. As I left, I’d slipped a note under their door telling them where I was going.

Better to beg forgiveness.

I step forward.

“Hop in, I’ll drive you home.”

I open the door, still praying he really is security and not one of the men sent to do me harm.

“You got my note?” I say when he pulls into traffic.

“We did. I should ask what the hell you’re playing at, but I get it. We both do. Give us your schedule and one of us will pick you up.”

“You don’t have to. I can get a cab,” I say.

“Not when this place is kicking out. Even a booked one is likely to get taken by someone else,” he says.

“I don’t want to put you out.”

He turns his head and grins. “We’re sat in an apartment, twiddling our thumbs. It’s not like you have us running all over the city.” He pauses, clearly realising what he’s said.

My life is boring and, by default, so is theirs.

I wake up, I go to work, I come home, I go to bed.

Rinse and repeat.

“It’s fine. Thank you, I’d appreciate the lift.”

“We should be thanking you. You’ve done everything you’ve been asked to do. When I first found out who we were covering, I did wonder.”

I sigh, the corners of my lips tilting. I can only imagine. The infamous Rebel Frazer!

“My reputation preceded me?”

He turns and smiles, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t worry about it. You’re not what we were expecting, far from it.”

“I shall take that as a compliment,” I say.

His grin widens. “You should.”

We pull into the parking lot, and I grab my bag. “Thanks,” I say.

“I’m Dan, my flatmate is Mitch.”

“Pleased to meet you, Dan. It’s great finally meeting one of the neighbours,” I say as the old lady I often see in the elevator walks past, giving us both a friendly nod.

“You too.”

We walk towards our apartments and open our respective doors.

“Have a great evening,” I say. “Thanks again.”

“You too, Brooke.”

That’s how it starts. As promised, one, or the other is there every evening when class ends. For the first time in months, I find myself relaxing, not only because I feel anonymous but also because the class is small and the students are dedicated. Most of them are older. They’re there to learn, not to gossip.

But it’s more than that. The design work and briefs come thick and fast, and at last, I’m doing something for me… the real me. I’ve been forced into a situation where I must follow the rules, stay hidden, cut ties with my old friends, and refrain from making new ones. I’ve been ordered to keep a low profile and ensure I don’t do anything that might draw attention to myself. But since starting my classes, despite the extra-long hours at work, I leave every lesson energised.

With the team opposite on board, this feels harmless and controlled. It gives me something other than St Clair and daydreams about my tall, dark, and sexy boss, and a kiss that’s left me wanting more than I should.

CHAPTER 38

ALEX

Brooke seems tired but galvanised, if that makes any sense, and I wonder if she’s met someone. The thought twists something inside me.

She’s clearly put our Christmas indiscretion behind her, and after my talk with the guys, I’m trying to do the same.

Which should be possible.

Although I trust Brooke, with fashion week fast approaching, this is her first rodeo. I can’t allow any errors, which means I’m like Santa Claus, making a list and checking it twice. So far, so good. She’s proven herself once again to be resourceful and adaptable. Every task I’ve set has been done efficiently and effectively, so I thought I’d back off, but I can’t.

I exit the elevator and hear laughter.

“I can’t believe it. They’re adorable, so tiny and perfectly formed.”

“Of course they are,” a male voice says. “They’re mine.”

Brooke chuckles.

“Give Leah, Callum, and the twins a big kiss from me.” She smiles down at the screen she’s holding.

“Wub ooh, ant Haps,” a small boy says, followed by what sounds like kissing noises.

“I love you too, Callum. You make sure you help Mummy and Daddy with your sisters.” Her voice catches slightly, her eyes glistening in the dimmed light.

“He is,” a woman’s voice comes through the phone this time.

“I can’t believe I’m so far away.”

She looks up and sees me, her expression falling.

“Leah, I’ve got to go,” she says, her eyes never leaving mine.

“We love you,” a male and female voice chime together.

“Love you too.”

She cuts off the call, throwing the phone into her bag.

“Sorry, Alex, I didn’t see you there,” she says, smiling.

The overly bright mask she’s been wearing recently slips neatly back into place.

“You didn’t need to end the call just because of me,” I say. “It’s out of hours. I should ask why you’re still here.”

She stands, grabbing her bag, a St Clair classic.

“I was leaving when I got a call from home. My—friend has just had twins. They were calling to introduce me to them.”

I smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” She fusses around on her desk, straightening up her papers, putting pens back in their place, doing almost anything to avoid meeting my gaze.

“You must be close if their youngest calls you aunty,” I say, not sure why I’m pushing but wanting a response.

She freezes, her head finally coming up. “We are. I miss them,” she says. “But it’s not forever,” she adds, as if trying to convince herself more than me.

“If you want to take some holiday, there’s always time after fashion week. Maybe you could arrange some time off and fly back to England to see them?”

She slides the strap of her bag over her shoulder, her eyes finally meeting mine. “That won’t be necessary, but thanks for the offer,” she says, moving around her desk, grabbing her jacket at the last moment. She looks up as she draws level with me. “I really should be getting home.”

“See you tomorrow, Brooke. Have a good evening.”

She pauses. “You too.”

“Thanks for today,” I add, Dante’s grumbled advice coming to mind.

She smiles, her green eyes locking on mine. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I watch as she makes her way towards the elevator, waiting until she steps inside before turning and entering my office.

CHAPTER 39

ALEX

“Hello, stranger, how’re you doing?”

I stiffen when I hear my younger brother’s voice. With fashion week just around the corner, I keep an open-door policy, only closing it when I’m in meetings.

“Enzo, when did you get in? We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.” I can hear the joy in Brooke’s voice and sense her moving.

“A couple of hours ago. Stopped off to get showered and changed, but then came straight in. No rest for the wicked.”

They stand close together, chatting like old friends, Brooke smiles up at him, her eyes warm and welcoming, as she asks after Avril and about London…

“What about you?” Enzo asks.

I pause. That’s something I’d like to know. She’s been leaving at six every Tuesday and Thursday since we returned in the New Year. I’ve wanted to ask her about it, but I know I have no right to, and no desire to hear that she has a new boyfriend. It’s after hours, and she already works more than enough overtime. Then there was that call a couple of nights ago…

“Oh, you know, this and that. Nothing exciting. Gabbi called. She said she’s coming home for Easter.”

She’s still talking to my sister? How do I not know this?

A burning sensation starts low in my chest.

“I wasn’t expecting you until later?” I say, crossing my arms as I move to join them.

He steps towards me, and I exhale softly.

What’s wrong with me? Since when did I become a possessive Neanderthal?

“Alex,” he says, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “I slept on the flight, so decided as I’m here, I may as well get started.”

He turns to shoot Brooke another wide grin, which she returns.

I inhale through my nose.

This is my brother.

“Can I get you both something to drink?” Brooke asks.

“I’d say a scotch on the rocks, but as it’s office hours, a strong coffee would be great.”

She looks at me. “Alex?”

“My usual, thanks, Brooke.”

We both watch as she disappears towards the kitchen. My brother turns, one eyebrow raised.

“Thanks, Brooke,” he mimics.

“What’s wrong with showing some manners? She’s British after all.”

He holds up his hands in surrender and lets it drop, although I can read on his face what he’s thinking.

He walks up to me.

“It’s good to see you,” he says, pulling me in for a hug, sniffing me at the same time.

“What the hell?” I say, pulling away.

“Is that the green-eyed monster I smell on you?” he asks, turning me and all but shoving me back into my office.

“What are you talking about?”

“You. Since when did you become all growly and possessive?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the look on your face when you saw me talking to Brooke. You looked like you’d swallowed a wasp.”

Brooke takes that moment to reappear with our coffee and two slices of cake. She places them on my desk.

“Will there be anything else?”

“No, that’s all,” I say, dismissing her.

“Cake?” Enzo asks.

“I’ve taken up baking,” Brooke says, colour flooding her cheeks. “This is coffee cake. Let me know what you think.”

“It looks delicious. Thanks, Brooke,” Enzo says, mimicking me.

I shoot him a warning glance, but his grin only widens.

“You’re welcome,” she says. “Call if you need anything else.”

She turns and leaves, closing the door behind her.

My brother turns and fixes me with his gaze for a solid minute.

“Has something happened between you two?”

Fuck, he’s always been intuitive, but this is a whole new level.

“What the hell? That’s quite a leap,” I say.

He taps his forefinger against his lip. “Nope,” he says. “I don’t think it is.”

He leans against the arm of the chair and rests his chin on his hand, studying me.

“You’re freaking me out,” I tell him. “Stop it.”

“You look different,” he says. “You’re different with her. I can see that a mile off. So, I’ll ask you again. What gives?”

I harrumph.

“Nothing,” I lie. “I’m just concerned we’ve been working long hours, and she’s been very tired lately.”

“She’s twenty-four, Alex,” he says, laughing. “She’s probably been burning the candle at both ends, doing what we all did at that age. Partying, socialising… sex.”

I growl even though I know the last word was said purely for effect. Enzo is baiting me. The thought of Brooke out on the town, being hit on by other men, taking them home after the kiss we shared, sets my stomach churning.

“I don’t think…” I say.

“Don’t think, or don’t want it to be true?”

I cross my arms over my chest.

“Just saying,” he adds. “She’s beautiful. If you have a thing for her, then I get it.”

I pick up the stress ball Gabbi gave me for Christmas and lob it at Enzo’s head. He bats it away with a laugh.

“I’m sensing a little tension,” he says, laughing.

I growl before I can stop myself.

“I thought you were here early to discuss business,” I grumble, deciding we need to change the subject.

He looks at me but decides to drop it.

“Shall we call Brooke in? We need to discuss itineraries and ongoing logistics for the next few weeks.”

I buzz her desk, and she enters with her tablet.

“Enzo wants to go over the itineraries and logistics for the various fashion weeks.”

She pulls up a chair.

He turns to face her. “I’m taking it you’ll be around to meet and greet the press corps for Fashion Week?”

Her hand freezes, the colour draining from her cheeks.

She glances up, her eyes wide.

“What? Me?” she croaks.

“Callie always used to do it,” I say with a shrug. “It’s simply a case of meeting them as they arrive, showing them to their respective seats, and keeping them abreast of the schedule until the show starts.”

“Why me? Surely there’s someone else better equipped?” Her eyes dart between us, and I sense her rising panic. “What I mean is…”

I incline my head. “Who better than the individual who’s spent the past few months coordinating all the various teams?”

Enzo and I both stare at her. Brooke squirms in her seat.

“It’s just…” She stumbles, her eyes widening as she struggles to find an excuse. “I’ve had no training. What if I say the wrong thing? It’s one thing to organise, it’s another thing to be public-facing. I don’t feel confident…”

My brother shoots her a sympathetic smile. “Don’t stress. If you’d rather not, I’m sure we can find someone else.”

Her shoulders visibly sag.

What the hell?

I frown. Brooke is one of the friendliest, most outgoing people I’ve ever met. I’ve watched her schmooze directors and clients alike. She has them eating out of the palm of her hand, but suddenly, the idea of meeting the press has her spinning out of control? I would have assumed she would have jumped at the chance. Something feels off.

“If you can find someone else, I’d prefer that,” she says, her gaze dropping to the floor. I watch her chest rise and fall rapidly, as if she’s in the throes of a panic attack.

“I’ll speak to Sue,” I say.

Enzo’s eyes dart between us, and I know what he must be thinking. I’ve never backed down. If I give someone a task, I expect them to pull their weight. I’m as shocked as anyone.

“I can message Sue,” she says, her pen now moving against the tablet, taking notes.

“Don’t worry, the press here aren’t as bad as the paparazzi that follow Alex and me around. We can’t even date without a thousand questions being thrown at us. This lot are kittens in comparison.”

Brooke’s colour drains further.

“I don’t think you’re helping,” I tell my brother.

“Brooke, why don’t you pop down and see Sue? Discuss it with her.”

She jumps up as if her chair’s on fire.

“I’ll get on it right away,” she says, all but sprinting for the door.

When she’s gone, Enzo turns to me.

“Okay, that was strange.”

“You’re telling me,” I say. “That’s not the only thing. Have you ever heard Sophia mention Brooke’s mother, the mysterious friend whose daughter has just turned up out of nowhere and has her bending over backwards to accommodate her?”

“Have you spoken to Mother?” Enzo asks.

I quirk a brow and shake my head.

“Something is off. I’m not always the most intuitive when it comes to women, but whenever she talks about herself, she freezes.”

I glance up as he laughs.

“Oh, brother, you clearly have it bad.”

I frown.

“You’re looking for excuses not to like her,” he says, shooting me a smug grin. “How’s that going for you?”

“It’s not,” I say, running a hand down my face. “You’re no fucking use,” I grumble.

“I’m just stating the facts. You know, it’s okay to like her. There doesn’t have to be something sinister going on in the background just because she knows our mother.”

“How many more times? Nothing is going on between Brooke and me,” I say.

“The gentleman, in your case, doth protest too much, methinks,” he says with an enormous grin.

“You’re fucking quoting Shakespeare at me.”

“Hamlet, to be precise, but yes.”

I roll my eyes and groan. After the fashion weeks are over, maybe I’ll speak to Mother, see what’s going on with my PA.

CHAPTER 40

HARPER

“Harps… Sis, are you still there?” I can hear the panic in Eli’s voice.

At least I’m at home for this phone call.

“I’m here,” I say, lowering the fist I’ve been pressing against my mouth to prevent… I really don’t know what.

I lean hard against the kitchen counter. The beans I’m heating hiss as they stick to the pan. I shove it to one side, my muscles going weak.

“Harps, talk to us. Shit, I knew this was a bad idea,” Elijah says. I know he’s speaking to Mum and Pen.

I stumble over to the sofa and drop onto it, resting my elbows on my knees.

“I’m okay, Eli,” I say, even though the crushing feeling in my chest tells me otherwise, because I can hear his growing panic.

Pull on your big girl pants, Harper Frazer. What would Dad say?

But that’s it. Dad’s not here. He hasn’t been for over seven years. A tragic accident, or so we thought. Now, as a coldness expands in my core and bile hits the back of my throat, we’re being told it wasn’t a tragic accident at all.

“Okay,” I admit, my voice quivering, “I’m not fine or okay. You’ve just called me and…said Dad’s accident wasn’t an accident. That someone murdered him, the same person who is after me, I take it?”

Goosebumps form all over my body, and I clamp my jaw shut to stop my teeth chattering.

“Harper, listen to me.” It’s Pen’s voice that breaks through the growing fog. “I need you to listen carefully. Can you do that?”

The way she talks is slow and steady, as if trying to coax a wounded or scared animal. Which, in some ways, I am.

“Yes, Pen,” I say. “I’m listening.”

I focus on the phone in my hand.

“Good. They’ve found more files. Your dad had them hidden. They may contain the missing pieces. A team is working around the clock to go through them. When they’re done, you can come home to us. Repeat what I just said.”

“Files, Dad hidden, missing pieces, around-the-clock team, coming home.”

“Good,” Pen says. “It just means you need to stay strong, at least for a while longer. Can you do that?”

I rub my breastbone. “Yes,” I tell her. “But Pen, why?”

“Why did they kill him?” she asks. “I think the files may be the key… H, I know it probably doesn’t seem like it, but this is a breakthrough,” Pen says, although I’m not sure who she’s trying to convince.

“You hear that, my darling? You’ll be able to come home,” Mum says, her voice catching.

“I do, Mum, and please don’t worry about me. I’m safe here. I have the team opposite and with fashion week coming up, St Clair is locked down like Fort Knox.”

“Harps,” Pen says again.

“Yes,” I say, releasing a shaky breath.

“If you have any issues or concerns, you pull the ripcord, you understand me?”

“I will, that I can promise you.”

“We’re here if you need to chat,” Elijah says. “Any time of day or night. We understand this is a lot to take in, and I’m sorry we had to tell you over the phone, but we didn’t want you finding out second-hand should there be a leak.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Not that I’m paying much attention to the news back home. I need to live in the here and now, and that’s New York.

When the call ends, I sit staring at the phone in my hand.

Does knowing the truth make it any better? He was still out that night because of me…

* * *

Dad!

I jerk awake, a sharp pain lancing through my neck. The skin on my face feels stretched and my eyes are gritty from crying myself to sleep on the sofa.

My face crumples as I choke down another sob.

Shit, haven’t I shed enough tears?

Fresh tears begin to fall, and I wipe them away with the sleeve of my PJs.

Clearly not.

I fall back, goosebumps forming as my sweat-soaked skin dries in the early morning air.

I cover my eyes with my forearm, and my mind returns to my nightmare. Of sitting locked in a bathroom, waiting for Dad, waiting and waiting, but he never comes.

It wasn’t a tragic accident. He wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time, run off the road by a drunk driver, as was reported.

He was murdered.

My chest constricts, and my throat closes. It’s like that night all over again, only this time, Dad isn’t oblivious to what’s happening. He knows they’re there to kill him. He’s scared, hurting and alone.

I drop my head between my knees, closing my eyes and counting my inhales and exhales the way my psychologist taught me. Severe panic attacks were frequent in the early days.

It’s not your fault, Harper.

That’s what she kept saying, what they all kept saying.

But I know the truth.

I swallow against the pain clogging my throat.

I’ve tried so hard to put it behind me, but whatever I do, it comes back to haunt me, time and time again. They say time heals, but it’s a lie when you’re forced to live with the constant guilt of your actions.

For seven years, I’ve rebelled against the establishment and built barriers because it was easier than confronting the truth.

I killed our father.

Everyone was grieving because of me and my selfish desires. If I hadn’t gone out that night, gone against his wishes…

Elijah’s words echo in my head. “Dad didn’t die in an accident. He was murdered, Harper.”

I race to the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl.

Murdered.

Why did someone want my dad dead? Pen and Eli said that Kat and Jax had uncovered some files containing more evidence. Evidence Dad had gathered.

Did Dad know someone was trying to kill him? Is that why he warned me against going to the party? A warning I ignored?

I shiver, a numbness spreading through my limbs.

I call Kat, but it’s the middle of the night, and she doesn’t answer. So, I try the next best person.

“Pen,” I say, as the line connects, my voice raw.

“Harper? Honey, are you okay?”

“No,” I sob down the phone, my breath catching again, my throat closing.

“Hey, Harper, listen to me. You’re having a panic attack. I need you to take some deep breaths. Breathe in for four, out for four. Again.”

I close my eyes, listening to her voice as she repeats the instructions over and over until I’m breathing normally.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Never be sorry. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re away from us, your family.”

“I…”

I swipe at my cheeks, annoyed by the tears I can’t control.

“Talk to me,” she says, her tone soothing.

“If I hadn’t called him that night…” I don’t say the rest, knowing Pen can fill in the blanks. “He didn’t want me to go to the party, Pen. Do you think he knew what they were going to do?”

“You listen to me right now, Harper Brooke Frazer. Your father loved you. He loved all of you. You were his world. If they hadn’t got to him that night, they would have kept trying until they succeeded, irrespective of who was with him. Your father knew that. He made a choice.”

I draw my knees up to my chest and hug them, dropping my head.

“We need to make sure that all those responsible are caught and brought to justice. Do you understand me? That means you must stay under the radar. I’d bring you home tomorrow, but I’ve been overruled.”

“Overruled?”

“You met The Seamstress, I hear,” Pen says, and I can tell she’s not happy about it.

I remain silent.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes.” Pen sighs. “She used to be my boss. It’s a long story, one for another time, but she was also a close friend of your father’s.”

“She told me. I remember her.”

Pen makes a sound, one that I interpret as surprise.

“But she didn’t keep him safe,” I say, my tone sharpening.

“No, but she won’t make the same mistake again,” Pen says. “Your protection officers…”

“Mitch and Dan?”

Pen chuckles. “I should have guessed you’d be on first-name terms with them both.”

“I kind of didn’t give them much of a choice.”

She laughs, but there’s still an underlying edge. This is not the carefree Pen I’m used to.

“Harper, if there’s anything you can think of… They’ve found… Oh shit.”

“What, Pen? Tell me,” I say, squaring my shoulders for whatever is about to descend.

“When we found the files, there was evidence to suggest you may have been targeted all those years ago. Your dad was aware and was trying to protect you.”

I suck air into my lungs, but it lodges in my throat, the sound a half-cry.

“What do you mean?” It comes out as little more than a whisper.

“Pen, that’s enough.” I hear Elijah in the background.

“Eli, I’m not a child. Tell me, Pen.”

“There were letters, photographs… I’m sorry, Harper, I don’t… they were clearly threats.”

I close my eyes and hold my head.

Why Dad? Why weren’t you honest with me?

“Can you recall anything from that time? Was there anyone following you? Did you have a sixth sense that something was off?”

I shake my head, a vice-like pressure building in my chest.

“No,” I say when I remember she can’t see me.

“If that changes,” Pen says. “You’ve had a shock. Sometimes that can jolt suppressed memories loose. If you remember anything, call me, or hammer on Dan and Mitch’s door.”

“I can’t remember anything about that night,” I say, my panic rising. “It’s like I’ve blocked it out. Pen, if I hadn’t gone to that stupid party. If I’d only drunk it instead of giving it to Carolyn.”

“What do you mean? What drink?”

“Carolyn snatched it when I refused to drink it. It tasted like paint stripper. She drank it. It’s what made her sick. It’s why I called Dad.”

“Who gave you the drink, Harps?”

“I can’t remember… some guys.”

My memory goes back to my dream. I close my eyes, allowing it to resurface.

“No, I do. It was two friends of Jasper’s brother. They’d gatecrashed the party. Jasper was unhappy. I can remember him bitching to them about it.”

“Harper, you need to go across the hall and wake Mitch and Dan. I need you to tell them everything you can remember about that night. About the drink and the guys who gave it to you.”

“You don’t think Carolyn just had too much to drink?” I say. “It was an end-of-year party… everyone was drinking.”

“We can’t ignore anything, not now. Can you do what I ask?”

“Yes.”

“Call me later.”

“I will do.”

“Harps, we love you.”

“I love you too.”

Pen ends the call, and I grab my hoodie. I check that the hallway is empty before I step across.

Mitch opens their door after a single knock, takes one look at me and pulls me into their apartment.

“I need to talk to you both,” I say.

CHAPTER 41

HARPER

My heart pounds against my chest, endless tears choking me. Everything hurts, both inside and out. It’s like I’ve run a marathon without warming up or staying hydrated.

Despite the early hour, Mitch and Dan are amazing, taking my statement and listening as I tell them everything I can remember about that night.

Now that I’ve allowed my brain access, it’s like a movie playing at double speed, only it isn’t a movie. They’re memories, memories I’ve suppressed. Not even my bereavement counsellor could get me to recall the events of that night, but now, it’s like I can’t switch them off.

“Do you think you’d be able to identify the guys who gave you and your friend the drinks?” Mitch asks.

It’s four a.m.

I nod. One useful aspect of having an almost photographic memory.

“If you can find me a photograph, I’ll be able to identify them,” I say confidently, my eyes burning, my throat gritty. “Do you think they’re somehow involved?”

“We can’t afford to discount anything or anyone at this stage. It may have just been two guys chatting up two girls at a party, but…” Dan says.

Mitch steps forward and pats my arm. “Harper, try to get some sleep. We’ll let you know as soon as we find anything.”

“My accounts… if you can recover them, I took a lot of photos. It was before my influencer days, but…”

They both nod. “We’ll get the team on it. Nothing is ever permanently gone. It’s why so many celebrities are coming unstuck these days.”

I leave them to do their job after they promise they’ll be just across the hall should I need them.

* * *

My alarm trills next to me, the sound like a jackhammer against my skull.

Shit, work.

Pulling a pillow over my head, I yell into it. I’d call in sick, but today Alex has a room full of VICs ahead of New York Fashion Week, and I can’t let him down.

Won’t.

I stagger into the bathroom and grip the edge of the sink, staring in horror at the mirror. I bite my lip, my vision blurring.

“Harper Frazer, you need to get your act together. Brooke Feldmann needs to go to work,” I tell myself.

I splash ice-cold water on my face before showering and completing my cleansing routine. My skin is tight from all my tears.

With my makeup on and contact lenses in, I stare at myself in the mirror.

“You’re Brooke Feldmann, Brooke, Brooke, Brooke,” I repeat.

Who am I kidding?

One look, and even strangers are going to know I’ve spent half the night crying.

Pull yourself together!

I drop my chin to my chest, inhaling deeply before gripping the sink once again, grounding myself. This time, when I look up, I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin.

“Don’t you dare do this. You’ve been Little Miss Independent since you could crawl. Time to meet the day head-on.”

To my family, I’ve always been the baby.

To my dad, I was his big girl, brave and strong.

I’d scrape my knee and bite my lip.

When I broke my arm, I asked everyone to sign my cast. Today there’s no physical wound, but the principle is no different. Life must go on.

* * *

The office is quiet when I arrive. Still no call from Kat, but maybe that’s a good thing. My sister doesn’t need to hear me like this. None of them does. Maybe fate had me talking to Pen last night instead of one of the others. Despite loving my father as if he were her own, she’s one step removed, and whatever she or any of the others say, I’ll never stop blaming myself for his death.

“Brooke?” I look up to find Alex standing in front of me, his brows drawn together.

CHAPTER 42

ALEX

“Brooke,” I say again.

Hollow eyes stare up at me, but I’m not even sure she’s hearing me.

“Brooke,” I say more sharply.

This time her eyes focus.

“Sorry,” she says, appearing to give herself a mental shake.

“Are you okay? I’ve called your name five times.”

The elevator dings in the distance, announcing someone’s arrival.

Fuck!

She straightens her spine and gives me a dazzling smile, one that fails to reach her eyes.

Bloodshot eyes!

“I’m fine. Sorry, I was miles away. Did you want something?”

Want something?

I do, but I can’t remember for the life of me what it is. Seeing her like this, I’m struck by how lost and broken she looks.

“Brooke, are you sure you’re okay?”

She nods. “I had a late night. I got caught up watching an old movie. I woke up on the sofa at three. Stupid of me…”

I can tell she’s lying. I just don’t understand why, but I don’t press her. There isn’t time, and besides, it’s none of my business.

Boundaries.

In half an hour I’ll be facing a group of St Clair’s major international department store buyers.

“Do you have the packs ready for the meeting?”

“I’ve already laid them out in the boardroom,” she says. “Drinks and breakfast pastries have been arranged. I’ve spoken to Monty. They’ll be delivered as soon as everyone arrives.”

“Great.”

I incline my head, and she smiles. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Our conversation is clearly over when she drops her gaze back to whatever document she’s reviewing.

I return to my desk and sit down, the urge to call Mother pressing hard. I’ve never been one who ignores my instinct, and it’s screaming that something has happened, that Brooke needs someone in her corner… that she’s alone in a strange city. But doing so without her permission will destroy the trust we’ve built. Despite everything, I keep telling myself she’s a grown woman.

* * *

We make our way to the boardroom. The haunted woman from earlier is gone, replaced by flawless Brooke. Walking beside me is once again the consummate professional I’ve come to recognise and admire over the past couple of months. It’s as though I imagined that earlier version of her.

“You ready?” I ask.

“Absolutely,” she says, although it’s impossible to miss her white knuckles as they grip the client packs.

“Let’s do this,” I say, leading us into the main boardroom, where some of our high-profile contacts and clients are already waiting alongside several of the St Clair board members and Mother.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome.”

It’s then that I look down and spot it.

Italian.

“Brooke,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm.

She looks up, her eyes questioning. I glance down at the pack she handed me, her gaze following mine. She freezes, the colour draining from her face.

“Sorry, everyone, it looks like I grabbed the wrong packs from my desk. Brooke, can you get the English packs?” I say, smiling calmly at those seated around the table. “Jumping ahead of myself, I should have left it to the professional.”

There are a few chuckles from around the table.

She moves swiftly, collecting them up and apologising as she goes. Her hands are shaking by the time she reaches me.

Her eyes meet mine. The hollow look is back.

“Excuse us.”

I manoeuvre us to the door.

“Brooke, are you sure you’re okay?” I ask as soon as we’re out of earshot.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says. “It was my mistake.”

“Let’s not worry about that now. Can you collect the other packs from my desk?” I ask gently, not wanting to startle her.

She nods, hesitating for a split second before turning and leaving.

I return to our room full of guests.

“Sorry, everyone, I received a call from the UK as I was heading out. As you can imagine, with fashion week fast approaching there are many plates to juggle.”

“No need to apologise,” Trevor says, one of our longest-standing contacts. “I don’t know how you juggle it all.”

“Practice, but as you can see, things happen. Coffee and pastries, anyone, while we wait?”

Brooke reappears a couple of minutes later, slightly breathless, handing me the correct packs.

“Thank you,” I say, nodding as she hands them out.

She goes to take a seat.

“That’s all. I know you have a mountain of tasks to complete. Sasha can take the notes for today’s meeting,” I say, shooting Dominic’s PA a look that has her sitting upright and smiling brightly.

Our eyes meet, her shoulders dropping as she nods at me, and I can’t miss the quiver in her hand as she reaches for the door handle.

Whatever is going on with her today has knocked her completely off-kilter, and because of that, I can’t have her here. I need to concentrate on the job at hand.

When she disappears, I turn my attention to the men and women in front of me. Since when have I cared so much about a member of staff that I struggle to focus on a meeting? I haven’t, at least not before a young British woman invaded my world.

The meeting drags on for two hours. By the time we’re done, my patience is frayed, and I want to lock myself away in a darkened room. I hate this time of year, yet love it in equal measure.

When I return, Brooke is nowhere in sight. An internal message from HR flashes on my computer screen.

“Brooke has gone home sick.”

My office door opens without warning.

“Want to tell me what all that was about?” Mother asks, throwing her bag down on the couch in the corner of my room.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t take me for a fool, Sandro. It doesn’t suit you.”

“And you need to remember who runs this company. You were only at the meeting out of courtesy and because those very important clients of ours like the gossip you provide.”

She ignores me, which I knew she would. “Where is she?”

“Where’s who?”

“Are we really playing this game?”

“It’s no game, Mother, and if you’re asking about my PA, she’s gone home sick. Should never have come in this morning.”

“She nearly messed up an important meeting.”

“No, I nearly messed up an important meeting,” I fire back, not sure why I’m protecting Brooke from my mother of all people. She introduced us.

“Still going with that story?”

“It’s the truth.”

Not a complete lie. I knew Brooke was out of sorts this morning. I should have sent her home. Instead, I let her stay. Therefore, the mistake is mine to bear.

“Fine,” she says. “But don’t let yourself get derailed or be made to look like a fool by a pretty face.”

I freeze, my blood sizzling in my veins. “You think? Oh, Mother, you need to stop worrying about me. Brooke is my PA and happens to be incredibly adept at her job. For the record, I don’t give a flying hoot what you and others think. I run this company and believe it or not, I can and will make mistakes like any human being, the same way you did when you were in charge.”

She stares me down, but I refuse to bend. It was a low blow, but she needs to be brought back into line.

“And I paid a heavy price,” she says, her gaze dropping to the floor.

I rub the back of my neck. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

“It was, but it’s true. I just don’t want you making the same mistakes I did.”

She sniffs and turns to the couch, picking up her bag and sliding it onto her forearm.

“I’m no longer married. I think it’s safe to say I already made that mistake.”

She steps forward and pats my cheek.

“We were always similar. It’s just that people aren’t always what they seem. I just want you to be careful.”

“Are we talking about Brooke?”

“She’s a young woman, at a very different stage in her life,” she says. “There’s a lot you don’t know about her.”

“I’m very aware of that, and there’s nothing going on between Brooke and me,” I say, which is technically true, though not the whole truth.

“I’d suggest you keep it that way.”

When she leaves, I drop into my chair.

There’s a lot you don’t know about her.

How bad can it be? She brought Brooke into our lives and even invited her to spend Christmas with our family.

My muscles tighten, an unfamiliar pressure building in my chest.

My mother is right. I’ve never covered for someone before. I’m meticulous and have high expectations, but we’re all human, and something was definitely wrong with Brooke this morning. Every bone in my body told me as much.

I pick up my phone, tempted to call, but drop it back in its cradle.

Stop, you’re overstepping. She hasn’t asked for your help. She told you she’s fine. You need to let it go.

Letting it go is potentially one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

CHAPTER 43

HARPER

There’s a knock at my door.

I shrug off the blanket I’ve wrapped around me since coming home and cover my sketchbook.

I fucked up, and Alex covered for me in front of a room full of important clients and investors.

“I’m not sure what’s going on, but it needs to stop,” Sophia says, walking past me and into my apartment.

“Sophia?” I say. “Come in.”

She moves through the apartment, inspecting my bedroom and bathroom.

“Not bad,” she says. “At least it’s clean and tidy.”

“Sophia, I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing here?”

Sophia steps back into my living area, her presence filling the space.

“Sandro,” she says, her gaze locking on mine. “He covered for you this morning.”

“I don’t understand,” I tell her truthfully.

What the hell?

“For some reason, my son covered for you, with both our clients and me. I want to know what’s going on. Are you sleeping with him?”

“What? No!” I stare at her wide-eyed. “Definitely not.”

My reaction must put her mind at ease, because her shoulders lose some of their tension.

“Want to tell me what happened?”

“I’ve printed the packs for every client meeting in London, Milan, and Paris. The wrong ones got picked up, that’s all. As you probably saw, they’re identical except for the language.”

She harrumphs.

“That’s very organised.”

“I try to be,” I say honestly, wanting, no needing, to defuse the situation. Sophia has been my saviour, getting me a job at St Clair and offering me support. I don’t want to cause friction between her and Alex or between us.

“Sandro said you’re ill.”

“I had a migraine,” I lie, hoping he didn’t embellish on what was wrong with me.

“You look fine now.”

“I have special medication. If I catch it in time, it helps ease the pain but leaves me groggy. That’s why I left the office.”

Not entirely a lie, although I haven’t had a full-blown attack for several years.

“I do not enjoy lying to my son about you,” she says suddenly, and I wonder if it’s a veiled threat. “You look tired,” she adds.

“I didn’t sleep well,” I say, not really wanting to go into the details of what Pen and Elijah disclosed. Not knowing if I can. Another person I’m now lying to.

“Are you going out partying?” she asks, her eyes burning into me. “If you are, it must stop immediately, you know that? And if you’re dating…” She closes her eyes for a second. “Emotional attachments are dangerous. It’s easy to slip up, bringing everything crashing down.”

I know she cares, but I bristle at her tone.

I’m not a fucking child, and I have far more to lose in this scenario.

“I promise you, I’m neither dating nor going out partying,” I say truthfully.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

I sigh. “Sleep isn’t really my friend right now.”

She inclines her head. “But you have your security team?”

“I do.”

I don’t want to admit that dreams about her son and the wicked things I imagine him doing to my body leave me hot and wanting in the middle of the night. Nor do I want to admit that I work on designs late into the evening to stop my heart racing as I wonder whether someone will find me.

Sophia steps forward and pats my arm.

“I know this is a difficult time for you, but it will end.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me. But when? I’ve been here three months, and no one seems to be any closer.” There’s a sense of desperation in my voice, although with the new information that’s been uncovered… do I dare to hope? “It’s the not knowing that’s killing me, the constant need to watch over my shoulder. Do you know the last time I took a stroll down the street? Went shopping in person rather than online? Too long ago!”

Her eyes flick to my callisthenics equipment.

“I even work out here, alone,” I admit. “I’m terrified someone will see past my disguise at the company gym.”

I know I’m laying it on thick. In truth, I’ve never been one to enjoy working out in public. Sweaty photographs are never flattering, and as an influencer, it was all about the Harper Frazer brand and the public’s perception of perfection. Besides, when I’m working out, I want to concentrate, not socialise.

Sophia shoots me a look of sympathy but doesn’t offer me platitudes. Instead, she surprises me by stepping forward and pulling me in for a hug.

I stiffen, but when she doesn’t let go, I relax, enjoying the feel of someone’s arms around me.

“You’re a strong young woman. You’ve got this. I didn’t think you would. I feared you’d bring carnage and mayhem. But you’ve surprised me.”

I chuckle against her shoulder.

“Sorry to disappoint,” I say.

She pulls back but holds on to my upper arm, squeezing gently.

“I’m glad we’ve had this talk. It may seem like I’m being tough on you, but I want you to be safe. I promised your mother.”

I close my eyes.

“And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I really do,” I say, returning the squeeze when she pulls me in for another hug.

She means well, but sometimes treats me like I have no comprehension of what’s going on around me. I probably have more of an idea than she does. Does she know there’s an extraction plan in place if the shit really does hit the fan? Does she truly understand what might happen to me if these bastards find me? Part of me hopes she doesn’t. I don’t need anyone else worrying about me.

She leaves the same way she arrived, in a rush of perfume and grace.

“Take care, Brooke. And try to get some sleep. Eye bags are not a good look and will lead to premature ageing,” she says with a smile and a wink.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say as she makes her way to the elevator, Benjamin in tow. He obviously remained in the hallway, waiting for her.

I move to the sofa, unfold my throw, take out my sketchbook, and place it on the coffee table. I open it and return to my work-in-progress, shutting out the rest of the world.

CHAPTER 44

HARPER

After Sophia leaves, I knock on Dan and Mitch’s door to let them know I’m home.

“How are you doing?” Dan asks, his face a picture of concern.

“Surviving,” I tell him truthfully, offering what I know must be a very weak smile. “But I’ll get there. I just want this to be over. Hopefully, with the new evidence…”

He nods and gently squeezes my arm. I’m fooling no one with my ‘I’m fine’ routine, so why bother?

“I saw you had a visitor,” he says.

I nod. “Yes, I messed up at the office. Alex covered for me. Sophia was fishing for an explanation.”

She’s not the only one who wants to know why. Alex is a perfectionist who doesn’t make mistakes, and everyone knows that. But today he covered for me when he didn’t need to.

“Hang in there. If there’s anything Mitch or I can do, you just need to let us know. In the meantime, know that the team is working on the information you gave us.”

“Thank you. I know everyone is working hard behind the scenes. It’s just… finding out about Dad.”

I can’t even bring myself to say the words.

He sighs. His expression softens. “It’s okay to be scared. You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t. But know that we’re here and that there’s a team scouring the social media accounts of the people you named at the party. Seven years is a long time. It’s not going to happen overnight. They’re also working to recover your accounts to see if they can find anything.”

I nod. “I’m grateful you’re here. Please know that.”

“We’ve got you,” he says with a smile.

“Let me know if you need me,” I say before turning and leaving.

* * *

I’ve sat in the same spot for hours, staring into space.

Without realising it, this apartment has become my sanctuary, the only place I can be myself, whether that’s Harper or Brooke. And I’m grateful for the two men sitting across the hall.

My phone rings, jerking me into the present. Alex’s name appears on the screen.

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply before answering. After today’s fuck-up, I deserve to be reprimanded.

“Alex,” I say. “About earlier, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I promised I’d be okay, but then…”

“Brooke, stop. It’s okay. No damage was done. And it’s as much my fault as yours. I should have realised.”

The rich warmth of his voice settles my frayed nerves.

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. How’re you doing?”

“I’m…”

“Please don’t say fine. You’re not fine.”

“No, I’m not. You’re right, but it’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix, as I told Sophia when she popped in to check on me.”

“My mother came to see you?”

“She did.”

“Sorry. She was adamant that I don’t make mistakes,” he says, letting out a huff.

“And she’d be right. You don’t. You didn’t. I did,” I say, sitting back on the sofa and pulling my knees up, wanting to know why.

“I’m the boss. The buck stops here.”

Of course it does. Why else would he have done it? He blames himself for not sending me home.

“Well, thank you. It won’t happen again.”

“Get some rest over the weekend. Next week is going to be crazy. We may be in New York, but there will be a lot going on. I need you on top of your game to help keep me afloat. Can you do that?”

I smile, even though he can’t see me. “Aye, aye, Captain. And Alex, thank you again for being understanding.”

“We all have things, Brooke. Sometimes they bubble over when we least expect it. I know something has happened, but I’m not going to pry. However, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“I appreciate it, but it’s nothing an early night can’t fix,” I lie, wanting nothing more than to tell him everything.

But my lies are getting more convoluted, and in my current state of mind, I’m going to struggle to keep up the pretence.

“Have a good weekend. See you on Monday.”

“You too, Alex.”

CHAPTER 45

ALEX

New York Fashion Week is a crazy but invigorating time. A week hosting VICs, securing major retail orders, scouting new creative directors, and managing corporate public relations before doing it all again in London, Milan, and Paris. It requires me to use and adapt every skill I’ve ever learned, times a thousand.

Brooke is back on her game, holding down the fort in the office, which has turned out to be a blessing, while Daphne, Teresa’s PA, has stepped up to meet and greet our clients and the press corps. There’s been no further mention of Friday’s slip-up. Mother mentioned that Brooke had had a migraine and looked tired, and that I shouldn’t overwork her. I didn’t mention that Brooke has taken to leaving on time every Tuesday and Thursday, especially after Mother had the audacity to visit her at home. They have some weird relationship, one I cannot fathom. My mother has never been the maternal type, more of a career woman, so her interest in Brooke confuses me.

We say goodbye to the last guests before I head back upstairs, Mother in tow.

“Congratulations again, Sandro. Your speech announcing the company’s new initiatives went well, not to mention the show itself was a huge success.”

“Thank you. I’m pleased with where we’re heading. Tomasso and our other suppliers are very much on board too.”

“No Brooke?” Mother says as we arrive at my office.

“She’ll be around somewhere,” I say dismissively. “She’s not chained to her desk.”

“Of course not. It’s just that I wanted to say hello, check that she hasn’t had any more migraines.”

“She’s not said anything,” I say.

“Well, that’s good.”

I’m sure there’s more to her interest than simply checking on Brooke.

We step into my office, and Brooke’s scent hits me instantly.

What?

“I’m going to go,” Mother says, air-kissing my cheeks. “Say goodbye to Brooke and tell her I’m sorry I missed her.”

I frown, my mind wandering.

“Sandro?”

I run a hand down my face. “Sorry, not enough coffee this morning, and it’s been a long week.”

“Get some rest. These next few weeks are a marathon, not a sprint. You’ll be doing this all over again in a few days.”

“Don’t remind me.” I groan.

“You’re a natural,” she says.

I’m not so sure. I love the fashion world, the designs, the fabrics. It’s easy to be passionate about something you care deeply about.

“I’d better go. I’ll see you at the airport.”

“Enjoy your weekend,” I say, walking her to the door and seeing her out. I don’t miss the look she shoots at Brooke’s desk as she passes. I close the door behind her and head to my private bathroom.

I tap on the bathroom door.

“You can come out now,” I say quietly, not sure why she’s hiding in there, but it’s where the smell of her perfume is strongest.

There’s a click as the lock disengages.

I should be annoyed, angry, even. My PA is in my private space. Why?

I’m not sure what to expect, but it certainly isn’t what I’m faced with.

“Alex, I’m sorry I…”

Her eyes refuse to meet mine, but there’s no mistaking the fact she’s been crying, and not just a little bit.

“Brooke?” I say, gently taking her forearm and guiding her to the couch in the corner of the room.

She sits, swiping at her cheeks.

I grab an unopened bottle of water from my desk, crack the seal, and hand it to her.

“Drink.”

She takes it and raises it to her lips. It’s impossible to miss the tremor in her hand.

Shit!

“Brooke,” I say gently. “What’s happened? Are you hurt? Has someone done or said something?”

Pressure builds in my chest at the thought that someone may have done something to her.

I scan her body for marks or injuries.

She shakes her head.

“Want to tell me why you’re upset? Why were you hiding in my bathroom?”

It’s clear that whatever it is, she doesn’t want to be seen in the communal bathrooms. She wanted to cry in private.

A breakup with a boyfriend?

The thought makes my chest tighten even more.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Brooke, stop. I’m not cross. Just tell me what’s upset you.”

“It’s my sister,” she whispers, her breath catching.

“Kat?”

She nods.

“What about your sister?”

“I just got a call to say she’s been rushed to hospital. She was found in her apartment… she’s sick, really sick. They’re taking her into surgery.”

Fresh tears spill down her cheeks, and I turn and grab the box of tissues from the table next to the couch. I don’t usually have people break down in my office. I’m not sure I give off the warm-and-fuzzy vibes to my employees, but with Brooke it’s different. Even so, I doubt she intended me to see her like this.

“Do you need to leave? I can book you a flight,” I say, knowing if it were Gabbi or Enzo in hospital, I’d want to be by their side.

She shakes her head, more tears tracking down her cheeks.

“They’ve told me to stay here. There’s nothing I can do.”

“Who has?”

“My family. They said they’d call as soon as there’s any news.”

Her words sting. Family sticks together. How can her family tell a twenty-four-year-old she shouldn’t come home to see her critically ill sister after calling to let her know?

Brooke is clearly devastated.

I place a hand over hers and gently squeeze before getting up and moving to my desk.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and I turn to face her.

“For what?”

“All this… You’ve got enough on, what with fashion week. I told you after last week there would be no more issues.”

I shake my head. “Some things are out of our control. You’re allowed to have feelings, Brooke.”

Her phone rings, and we both jump.

“Are you going to get that?” I ask.

“It’s my brother,” she says, her voice hitching as she slides it out of her pocket and answers. “G,” she whispers.

I turn away, offering her and her brother some privacy, wondering if they’re going to tell her they’ve changed their minds and she should come home. My stomach hardens at the thought.

“I’ll try… Look, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

I flinch at her words and listen as she says goodbye to her brother.

She ends the call and drops her head into her hands, rubbing her eyes.

“The doctors think she has peritonitis,” she whispers. Pain-filled eyes rise to meet mine. “From untreated appendicitis.”

Her hand flies to her mouth as a sob escapes her. I’m by her side in an instant, my arm snaking around her shoulders, pulling her against my chest, as her body is racked with heart-wrenching sobs.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” I whisper against her hair.

CHAPTER 46

HARPER

My face crumples, my hand flying to my mouth as another sob escapes. Alex is by my side in an instant, his arm snaking around my shoulder, pulling me against his firm chest. His scent invades my senses, soothing me. One hand cradles my head, the other tracing slow circles on my back. I allow myself to sink into him as more sobs rack my body.

“What if… I can’t lose her, Alex,” I say, looking up into his face before burying myself in his strength and warmth.

He doesn’t offer me platitudes or promise everything’s going to be all right. He knows he can’t offer that sort of guarantee. Instead, he offers me comfort.

We sit in silence as I cling to him. No judgement, no questions, simply support.

Why the hell would Kat leave appendicitis untreated?

But then I think back to the past week. My stomach twists. Kat has always been the stoic one. She was closest to Dad and worked with him every day for years as she learned the business. Finding the files would have knocked her sideways, and then to find out Dad didn’t just die, but was murdered.

My eyes and throat burn as I choke back another sob, Alex’s shirt damp under my cheek.

I pull away. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” I rest my hand against the damp patch above his heart.

Alex squeezes my shoulder before rising and crossing to his desk.

He dials a number before turning to face me.

“Enzo,” he says, his eyes locking on mine. “Can you cover for me? Something’s come up, and I need to leave the office … She’ll be with me … No, for God’s sake. Can you do it? … Great.”

He puts down the phone and turns to me.

“Get your stuff. We’re leaving.”

* * *

We make it out of the building without anyone stopping us. My blotchy, tear-stained face hidden behind the curtain of my hair. Alex’s driver, Keith, is waiting at the kerb.

“Get in,” he says.

I do as I’m told, too tired to argue and too drained to care, grateful to have someone directing me, taking charge. After last week’s bombshell about Dad, and now this with Kat…

Disasters come in threes, isn’t that what they say?

Alex gives Keith my address before he pulls out into the New York traffic. I stare out of the window as a familiar numbness, the kind I’ve grown to recognise and welcome, settles over me. By the time we arrive at my apartment, I’ve clamped down on my emotions and taken charge once more.

“Thank you,” I say, turning to Alex.

“I’m coming up,” he says. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“You don’t need to. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s either my mother or me,” he says, the set of his chin letting me know this is not up for debate. “Your sister’s in surgery. You shouldn’t be alone.”

His words sink in, and I bite my lip to stop it from trembling.

Do I want to be alone?

No.

I nod, and he acknowledges it by turning to Keith.

“I’ll call you later,” he says.

I grab my handbag and make my way to the door of the apartment block, letting us in.

When we reach my door, Dan’s head appears around his own.

I give a slight nod, letting him know I’m safe.

Shit, I didn’t let Mitch know I was leaving.

I step inside, allowing Alex to enter.

“It’s small,” I say, suddenly self-conscious and aware of how tiny the space is, especially with him here, his presence stealing all the oxygen from the room.

“It’s nice,” he says.

“It’s home,” I say awkwardly, hugging my waist, suddenly hyperaware of the man standing in my living area.

He turns towards me.

“Brooke,” he says.

“Please don’t.” I hold up a hand, needing him to stop.

He opens and closes his mouth.

“If you offer me sympathy, I’m going to end up a blubbering wreck again, and I’m not sure I have anything left inside me,” I explain.

He inclines his head, his eyes taking me in. “I wasn’t. What I was going to say is, why don’t you go get changed while we wait for your family to call?”

We stare at each other for a moment before I nod and head to my bedroom.

One look in the mirror sends me darting to the bathroom.

I turn on the shower and step into the warm water, letting it soothe away the stress of the afternoon. When I get out, I repair my makeup and pull on a pair of wide-legged tracksuit bottoms and the matching cable-knit quarter-zip top, before making my way back into the living area.

I draw up short. Alex has removed his suit jacket, which now hangs over the back of one of my chairs, and he’s rolled up his shirt sleeves, exposing tanned forearms. His six-foot-two frame fills my tiny kitchen.

Holy mackerel. When did a man’s forearms become so sexy? All that dark hair and…

I turn away before I’m caught staring, straightening a cushion on the sofa.

Put your tongue away. You’re supposed to be concentrating on Kat.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you. What are you doing?”

“Have you eaten today?”

“No,” I admit.

First, I was caught up answering everyone’s questions after the show, and then Gabriel called just as I was about to head down to the cafeteria.

“You cook?” I blurt as he moves aside, revealing what he’s been doing while I’ve been gone.

He chuckles, the sound warm and soothing.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he says. “I went to university in England. After the first year of having university-prepared meals, it was do or die. I thought, how hard can it be to follow a recipe?”

“Really? And?”

He rubs the back of his neck, giving me a sheepish look. “I went through three sets of pans and nearly set fire to our kitchen, but I got there in the end.”

I know he’s trying to lighten the mood, and I find I’m grateful. There’s nothing worse than waiting for the phone to ring, so I’m surprised to find it’s working.

“So, you burnt your first few attempts?” I ask.

He grins. “I did. After that, our cook took pity on me when I was home for the holiday. She taught me some simple recipes. I can boil pasta and make a passable tomato sauce.”

I don’t have much of an appetite, but sitting here moping isn’t going to help anyone. Besides, my boss is kindly volunteering to cook me dinner.

“What do you say? Are you willing to risk your life on my culinary skills?”

I smile.

“Thank you. Is there anything I can do?”

My phone rings before he can answer.

“Hey, Mum,” I say as her name flashes up.

Alex shoos me towards the bedroom, motioning to the stove.

“Darling?” I can hear the waver in her voice. “I just wanted to call and check you’re okay. Gabriel said…”

“I’m fine, Mum, I promise,” I lie. “It was just a shock.”

Mum harrumphs. Since Leah came into our lives, fine is not a word we use.

“Okay, not fine, but I’m doing okay. Alex sent me home,” I say, not telling her that he’s here with me. Too many questions, ones I can’t answer.

“He knows?” she whispers. “Is that wise, darling?”

“He knows Kat’s in hospital. I was at work when G called.”

I don’t mention last week when he covered for me after I almost fell apart. I don’t need Mum worrying about me on top of everything else, and every instinct tells me Alex Bianchi is someone I can trust, someone who will stand in my corner if I can let him.

I hear him moving about in the kitchen.

“Any news on Kat?” I ask.

“No, she’s still in surgery. It will be another few hours. Your brothers and Jaxson are wearing grooves in the floor tiles,” she says. “They’ve moved us into a family room.”

“I can imagine. As a family…” I stop mid-sentence.

Shit, that was close.

I nearly said, as a family, the Frazer men are intimidating, especially when worried. They stand out, and knowing Kat, she’d prefer the press not getting wind of what’s happened to her.

Mum sucks in a deep breath, and I hear it catch.

“Mum. I love you. Try not to worry. I wish I were there with you all. But my big sister is a fighter. If anyone can get through this…”

I haven’t seen Mum cry since Dad’s funeral, although I’m sure she’s shed many tears in private. That bloody stiff upper lip. Not that she’s ever expected it from us. She’s always taught us that emotions are good and that we should express them. But when cameras were thrust in my face at my most vulnerable moments, I learned to suppress them, hide them behind a mask.

I know, I’ve suppressed mine for so long. First my anger over Dad’s death, then my anger at myself for my role in it. For years, those feelings have overshadowed the happy moments. Only when Leah, Callum, and April came into our lives did that begin to change. They’ve brought new life and balance into our family.

“I know, darling, I just hate that you’re so far away. Hopefully with…” she pauses. “With what’s been uncovered.”

“I know. Me too, Mum.”

“April has just arrived with some food.”

“That’s okay. Call me later when Kat’s out of surgery.”

“I will. Bye, darling, I love you.”

“I love you too, Mum.”

I end the call.

CHAPTER 47

HARPER

Ileave the bedroom and am greeted by the rich smell of garlic and herbs.

“Something smells good,” I say, stepping into the living area.

Alex is standing in my tiny kitchen, wearing my apron.

He turns with a teaspoon of whatever sauce he’s created ready for me to taste.

I open my mouth, and he feeds it to me. My heart somersaults at his closeness.

“Wow! That’s a lot better than passable,” I say as the rich flavours explode on my tongue.

He grins, looking relaxed and carefree, and warmth unfurls through me.

I don’t remember a time when anyone outside my family has stopped to take care of me.

“I wasn’t altogether honest,” he says. “Edoardo would disown my siblings and me if we couldn’t at least produce a half-palatable Italian dish. When he found out I was learning to cook, he stepped in.”

“Fair enough. You were obviously a quick study.”

His face twists. “It took a few attempts. Elaine, our cook, was less than impressed when she saw what I’d done to her kitchen and pans.”

I grimace and laugh.

How’s he doing this? Making me laugh, distracting me?

I hand him the plates, then take some knives and forks from the drawer and carry them to my tiny table, careful not to brush against him.

“I don’t have any wine.”

“Not a problem, I’m good with water.”

I pour us both a glass, adding some leftover lemon and ice from the freezer.

He retrieves the plates and dishes up.

“This looks amazing,” I say, keeping my voice light and chipper.

“Tuck in,” he says, picking up his knife and fork.

We eat in silence.

When we’ve finished, I sit back, resting a hand on my full stomach.

“Thank you. You really didn’t need to do all this,” I say, before adding quickly, “not that I don’t appreciate it.”

He leans back in his chair.

“When you wouldn’t let me call Mother, I was worried you might not have anyone…” He trails off. “Is there someone else I could call? A friend, boyfriend?”

I shake my head. He must think I’m such a sad case.

“You’re right, I don’t,” I admit. “Not outside the office anyway, and I’m not great at sharing my…”

He holds up a hand. “You don’t need to explain. The guy opposite, the one who popped his head out when I arrived?”

Dan won’t be happy he was spotted.

“He’s one of my neighbours. He and his friend live together. They look out for me. They know I’m a woman on my own, and they both have daughters my age,” I add quickly, not wanting Dan and Mitch to sound like creeps.

“I’m glad. This isn’t a bad neighbourhood, but having someone to watch out for you in a big city is good.”

The conversation falls quiet.

I bite my lip, my vision blurring.

Shit. The loneliness I’ve tried to ignore for the past few months presses in on me. I’ve never been away from my family for this long. I miss them and all their quirks.

“Hey,” he says, resting a hand over mine and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I never realised how hard it would be leaving everyone behind.”

“Brooke, I know it’s a crazy time, but honestly, if you need to go home to your family you just need to say. I’m flying out to London Fashion Week with Enzo and Mother. We can get you on the flight.”

My heart skips a beat.

If only.

I turn my hand over under his and squeeze back.

This should be awkward. My boss is holding my hand, stirring memories of being held against him earlier and the way he comforted me.

“I know I keep saying it but thank you. You don’t know what it means to have you say that, but Mum says Kat will be fine. I’ll arrange a trip back in a couple of weeks when things have calmed down,” I lie.

He nods, withdrawing his hand.

“That was your mum on the phone?”

“Kat’s still in surgery. She’s going to call when she’s out.”

“Well, let’s get this cleared up, and then we can find something to do until they call.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks.

“Do you have any board games?” he asks, and I’m glad he’s turned away.

“Er, no. I have a pack of cards. Do you play poker?”

“You play poker?”

I chuckle. “My older brother and his friends played while I was growing up. Little sister, watching and learning in the background.”

Alex inclines his head. “Did you do that a lot? Watch and listen?”

“Taught me everything I know,” I say.

“What’s the age gap?”

I think back to the details The Seamstress gave me, but I decide to tell the truth.

“Seven between me and the next youngest, and thirteen between me and the eldest. I was the bonus baby my parents weren’t expecting.”

He doesn’t press me for more details. Instead, we continue to clean up the dinner in silence.

Once everything has been put away, we move to the sofa.

“You don’t have to stay,” I say.

“Are you trying to get rid of me, or are you afraid to play me at poker?”

His eyes sparkle, but I can’t miss the question in them.

“I just don’t want you to feel you have to babysit me. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Let me make one thing clear. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. I’m thirty-nine years old, and I’m way past people-pleasing, although I’m not sure that was ever in my MO. Therefore, if you want me to leave, you have to tell me. If not…it’s poker.”

“Poker it is…”

CHAPTER 48

ALEX

Iroll over, grimacing at the crick in my neck. Sleeping on a couch is not conducive to good physical health, certainly not at my age. Pushing myself upright, I stretch, rewarded by several satisfying pops.

It’s still dark outside.

A noise catches my attention.

I get up and move towards Brooke’s bedroom door. The noise is coming from inside.

I knock lightly. No answer. I knock again, with the same result.

A desperate cry has me opening the door and stepping inside.

She’s lying on her bed, shifting restlessly beneath the sheets, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts.

I cross to her, sweat glistening on her skin in the darkness.

“Dad!” she yells, sitting bolt upright, her eyes wide, full of terror.

“Hey,” I say, perching on the edge of the bed but leaving some distance between us.

I know I shouldn’t be here, but after her brother called to say her sister was out of surgery and that her condition was serious, I saw the look in Brooke’s eyes and I couldn’t leave her.

Her lost, unfocused eyes lock on mine.

“Alex?” she says, confused. “What are you still doing here?”

“I was sleeping on the couch,” I say. “I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

She groans and drops her head to her knees. “I’m sorry I woke you,” she says.

Before I can think better of it, I cup her cheek.

“Are you sure you’re okay? That seemed like an intense dream.”

She doesn’t move away. Her eyes meet mine.

“I… I was dreaming about the night my dad died. It doesn’t happen often. He died in a car accident.”

My heart stalls. “I’m sorry.”

“It was seven years ago, but… I miss him, especially at times like these.”

I pull her forward and into my arms. After holding her in my office, it feels natural. I’d do the same if this were Gabbi, although Brooke’s definitely not my sister.

She comes willingly, her arms sliding around my waist, holding on like I’m her only lifeline.

I shift us around until my back rests against her headboard, pulling the covers back up and over her.

“I’m sorry, I’m never usually this needy,” she mumbles against my T-shirt.

“We can’t be strong all the time,” I tell her, stopping myself from resting my cheek against her hair.

I’m already crossing more boundaries than I’m comfortable with, but I can’t seem to help myself.

Brooke sighs, her body starting to relax against me as she falls asleep.

I start to move away, but her hold tightens.

I drop my head back and close my eyes…I’ll wait until she’s asleep and then…

* * *

I awaken to warmth, more specifically, human warmth.

I’m lying flat on my back, a body pressed tightly against mine, a familiar scent filling my head and awakening my senses.

Stop!

I force my body to relax.

Mentally exhausted and fresh from her nightmare, Brooke had fallen asleep on me. I must have fallen asleep too, which surprises me. I’ve never been someone who cuddles. My parents never showed much affection toward anyone but each other. They were both too busy with their jobs. Not that it mattered. I was shipped off to boarding school in a different country, only returning during school breaks. Even the nannies they employed to look after Gabbi and Enzo when they were younger were functional and professional, not loving or nurturing. It’s no wonder my siblings and I have relationship issues, something Loretta made abundantly clear when she left me.

I don’t know what it is about Brooke, but she’s ignited every protective bone in my body.

I inhale sharply as she wiggles, snuggling herself deeper into my side, her knee grazing my now rock-hard cock. I clench my jaw and begin reciting the alphabet backwards before shifting to multiples of 27.

Down, boy!

I inhale deeply, which doesn’t help. I need to extract myself from Brooke’s arms before she wakes up and realises what’s happening.

“Alex,” she mumbles, half asleep.

“It’s okay. I’m going to put the kettle on and grab a shower. Go back to sleep,” I say, looking over my shoulder, not wanting to show how out of control my body is simply from holding her in my arms.

I enter the bathroom. It’s small, like everything in the apartment, but it’s clean, with her personal items neatly lined up on the shelf.

I strip off the T-shirt and boxers I wore beneath my suit, turning the water to cold. I step under, gasping as the icy spray hits my skin. I let the water cascade over my head and down my back as I try to make sense of the past twenty-four hours.

My friends have always complimented me on my loyalty, but I’ve known them for years. I’ll even put myself at risk to protect those I care about, and I understand why I feel protective of my friends and family. Yet somehow, my scrap of a PA seems to have wormed her way onto that short list. Never have I taken responsibility for someone else’s fuck-up like I did last week. Then yesterday, when I saw her tears, something in my chest snapped. She was mine to protect.

That thought alone should scare me to death, and in part, it does, but seeing her last night…

Fuck! She needs my support, not my desire.

I tip my head back, allowing the icy water to freeze my libido. When I’ve finally cooled off, I get out and dry myself with one of the clean towels Brooke has stacked neatly on the shelf.

I dress in my suit, leaving off the T-shirt I slept in.

* * *

The bedroom door opens as I step out of the bathroom.

“Shit, Alex, you scared the crap out of me,” she says, her hand resting against her breastbone, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I thought you’d left.”

“I thought I’d grab a quick shower first. I hope you don’t mind?”

I could have showered at home, but… My cock twitches, and I steer my thoughts elsewhere.

“How are you feeling this morning?” I ask.

“Like I’ve done a triple HIIT workout without a single break,” she says.

“Can I make you a coffee before I go?” I ask.

She shakes her head, her smile less bright than usual. “Shouldn’t that be my line, especially after you spent the night and looked after me?”

“Isn’t that what bosses are for?” I say, suddenly wanting to lighten the mood.

“Not the ones I know, but I appreciate it. Thank you. I didn’t realise how much I needed company.”

We stare at each other for a moment.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help, and I still can’t believe you beat me at poker.”

She smiles, and I’m glad the dark circles under her eyes have lessened.

“I did, didn’t I? And I really appreciate you being here. It helped to take my mind off Kat.”

“Any news?”

“My brother sent me a message to say she’s out of danger, but they’re keeping her sedated to help her body recover.”

“That’s great news.”

We stand staring at one another. An awkward morning after, without the sex.

“I better head off,” I say. “I’m going to the office to ensure everything is ready for Monday. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Brooke walks me to the door.

She rises onto her tiptoes and places her lips against my cheek. “Thank you again.”

I squeeze her forearm before I leave.

I turn before she shuts the door. “If you need a flight back to the UK, let me know.”

“I won’t, but thank you. Have a great weekend.”

“You too. See you on Monday morning,” I reply, stepping out into the corridor and walking away.

I hail a cab just outside her building and give the driver the St Clair office address. Sitting back, I close my eyes and try hard not to think of the woman I just left behind.

CHAPTER 49

HARPER

My phone pings.

ALEX:

How are you doing? Any news?

ME:

She’s out of danger.

Alex’s number flashes up as an incoming call.

“Hey,” he says. “Have you been able to speak to her?”

“No, she’s pretty out of it with all the medication they’re pumping into her. Hopefully later today or tomorrow, according to Mum and my brother.”

“I’m glad she’s out of the woods.” The sincerity in his voice touches something inside me.

There’s a pause.

“Thanks again for last night. You really helped to take my mind off it.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“Embarrassed,” I say.

“Why on earth would you be embarrassed?”

I can hear the confusion in his tone.

I sigh.

“I’m usually self-sufficient,” I admit, which is true.

“It’s not a crime to need support.”

“Maybe not, but usually it’s my family offering it.”

“Not your boss?” he says.

“Not my boss.”

I think back to waking from my nightmare and the way he held me, wrapped in his arms, the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath my ear, soothing my frayed nerves. I remember my body pressed to his, my thigh resting against his…

“It’s because I’m your boss that you’re embarrassed?”

“No… Yes. I know I’m being silly. Thank you for being there.”

“How about this? Last night I wasn’t your boss. I was your friend. Does that help? Be honest.”

I stare at the wall.

“A little,” I admit.

The thought of Alessandro Bianchi being my friend has butterflies dancing in my stomach.

There’s a pause. “Do you have many nightmares?”

The elephant in the room. I should have known he wouldn’t ignore what happened.

“They’re not as frequent as they used to be,” I admit. “But lately…”

Why did I add the last bit?

“Have you talked about them? Do you know what triggers them?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“I had years of counselling, but it never truly got rid of them. It’s the night my father died,” I whisper, shocking myself when I add, “He was on his way to collect me from a party.”

There’s silence. “I’m sorry, Brooke. How old were you?”

I think back to The Seamstress’s little book. The book says my dad is dead, but not how he died.

Fuck it.

“I was seventeen.”

“You were young.”

“It is what it is. I’m luckier than some. I had him for seventeen years,” I say. “Thank you. Last night you chased the dreams away.”

“You’re welcome. Isn’t that what friends are for?”

“Apparently so.”

I’m treading on dangerous ground. He’s heading to London next week, my home city. According to Caleb, the missing heiress is not currently front-page news, but then again, it only takes an anonymous tip-off. Would Alex recognise me? I decide to change the subject.

“Did you find everything you need for next week?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t sound sure?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Alex,” I warn. “I’m your PA. What are you missing?”

“The packs need updating. Something came out of the initial meetings, something we need to change. It’s fine, I can talk around it.”

“How many pages?”

“Three.”

“We have tonight and the whole of tomorrow,” I say.

“It’s a couple of hundred packs.”

“And…we can get the London Fashion Week ones changed this weekend, and I can do the Milan and Paris next week while you’re away.”

“It’s the weekend.”

I laugh. “When has that stopped you? You’re rubbing off on me, which I’m not sure is a good thing, but I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing,” he says, his tone firm.

“Would you have had me make these changes yesterday?” There’s a pause. “The truth.”

“I…”

“The truth, Alex,” I repeat.

“I was going to mention it.”

“Instead, you spent the afternoon comforting me,” I state. “How about I meet you at the office? We can make the changes and update the packs.”

“It’s five o’clock. I also have all the packs here.”

“Here?”

“At my apartment. I’m going straight from here to the airport on Monday morning.”

“So, I come to you. I know you have a printer in your home office.”

“This is above and beyond.”

“Give me your address. Isn’t that what friends do? Help each other out?”

“Touché,” he says with a chuckle. “If you’re sure, I’ll send Keith. He can be with you in twenty minutes.”

“See you soon.”

* * *

As promised, Keith is waiting for me.

“Evening, Ms Brooke.”

“Evening, Keith. Sorry to drag you out.”

“Not a problem. It’s going to be a quiet month with Mr Bianchi away,” he says.

“Of course.” The realisation hits me. Alex is going to be away for the next three weeks. First in London, then Milan, then Paris, which closes out the big four. That means, I’m going to be holding down the fort alone.

The building we pull into is stunning. A glass skyscraper, with sleek, clean lines. The opposite of the chunky office buildings of the business district. Caleb, as a developer, would love this. I must remember to send him the details.

Stunning doesn’t even come close when his private elevator lets me out on Alex’s floor.

“Wow, this is… words fail me,” I say.

He smiles.

“You could fit my apartment in the corner of this room.” I grimace at the reminder that he spent half the night sleeping on my sofa.

He gestures for me to follow him to the living room.

I move toward the window. The space spans one entire side of the apartment building. Floor-to-ceiling glass frames unbelievable views of the New York skyline, and a large balcony offers outdoor space. How can he leave it every day?

A set of stairs leads to the second floor. This is opulence.

As if sensing my unspoken questions, he moves to stand next to me.

“There are four bedrooms and two staff quarters. Greta, my housekeeper, sometimes stays over if I’m entertaining, but I prefer my own space. Gabbi stays here when she’s in town. She’s commandeered one of the bedrooms.”

I step out onto the terrace. The sky is unbelievably clear for the middle of February, although the chill in the air lets me know it’s still winter.

“It’s like being on top of the world. Someone could almost forget their worries up here,” I say.

“It’s why I bought it,” he says, coming to stand next to me.

“Let me guess. Escape the craziness of Manhattan without a commute?”

He turns and smiles, my stomach clenching. This is Alex relaxed, stress-free.

“Shall we get started?” I say, turning around and walking back inside.

* * *

We walk through the apartment to a round office on the other side of the building.

“Okay, how do you not work from here every day?” I say, stepping inside the circular glass room.

“Too many meetings,” he says with a smile.

A large desk sits in the centre of the room, along with a sofa, an industrial printer, and filing cabinets. A number of fashion illustrations and flats are pinned to a freestanding whiteboard.

Alex motions to the four boxes. “Fifty in each,” he says, reminding me why we’re here.

“We’ve got this. You print. I’ll switch out the pages and rebind.”

I move to the side where a binding machine sits. Alex deposits one box next to me.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

I open the box the printers sealed over a week ago, take out the first file, and attach it to the binding machine. I open the spiral coil and remove the pages, just as the printer behind me whirls.

* * *

“That’s enough,” he says as I close the spiral binding on the thirty-sixth booklet. “I don’t know about you, but I need some food.”

I glance at the clock on his desk and then at the now dark sky. We’ve been at this for three hours, and we’ve only just scratched the surface.

I stretch, my back giving a satisfying pop.

“Come on, let’s see what Greta has left for dinner.”

We enter his kitchen, a space clearly designed for large-scale entertaining, with all the top-of-the-range appliances.

Alex moves to the double fridge-freezer, opens it, and stares inside.

He pulls out a ready-made lasagne and places it on the side, then turns back to retrieve an enormous mixed salad.

He turns and grins.

“Greta’s lasagna, I can promise it’s delicious.”

“Perfect,” I say. I notice the Post-it stuck to the top.

40 minutes.

I move to the oven and switch it on. We wait while it heats up, then Alex places the lasagne inside.

“Wine?”

“Is that wise? We’ve only completed thirty-six out of two hundred in three hours.”

Alex groans. “Don’t remind me. I think I’ll need a glass so I don’t lose the will to live.”

“You could have had someone do it when you arrived in London,” I say.

He shakes his head. “I hate stepping into a situation unprepared and relying on strangers to get the job done, on time and to the required standard. I’d rather go knowing everything is perfect when I arrive. It’s why I take them with me rather than ship them.”

He takes in my smirk and returns it with one of his own.

“Meticulous, with a capital M,” I say.

“I can’t help the way I am.”

“We wouldn’t have you any other way,” I say, laughing as I take the glass he’s holding out. “To monotonous tasks that lead to sound minds,” I say as a toast.

He clinks his glass to mine.

“Thank you for giving up your evening. I could have left them as they were, but now we’ve started discussing the change. I’d rather…”

“It’s not a problem. I was only going to be staying in and washing my hair,” I say, taking a sip of the wine, watching him over the top of the glass.

We make our way back into the living room while we wait.

Alex asks me questions about my family. I stay as close to the truth as I can. I’ve kept my distance from most people, and those I have befriended have never really asked about my life in England, preferring to talk about the here and now.

The buzzer on the oven sounds, and we make our way back into the kitchen.

I refill our glasses while Alex serves.

“Here you go,” he says, placing a plate down on the table.

I help myself to salad, and we tuck in.

“How many do you think we’ll get through tonight?” he asks.

“We were getting faster. I got the time per booklet down from ten minutes to five. I think we can reduce it further… How many do you need?”

“Definitely a hundred. I carry spares as our clients often ask for extra copies, but if they aren’t updated before I leave, I can get someone in Enzo’s office to make the changes during the week.”

A long night awaits.

* * *

Three and a half hours later.

“One hundred,” I say, lying back on the carpet and throwing my hands above my head. “Oh. My…”

“I owe you big time,” he says, sitting next to me, his knees bent.

“No, you don’t. Isn’t that what friends and PAs are for?”

“You’re right, how could I forget?”

I turn my head to face him, bringing my arms down by my sides, my hair falling over my eyes.

He leans forward and sweeps it behind my ear, his hand hovering beside my face.

My breath hitches, and we sit in silence until he pulls away.

“Sorry. Look at the time,” he says.

“It’s fine,” I say, sitting up. “We got the main set done. I can come back, and we can finish the rest tomorrow.”

“It’s one in the morning,” he says. “You can stay here. There’s plenty of room. Gabbi’s room is fully kitted out, an entire St Clair wardrobe sitting there untouched, and I know the bathroom is full of supplies. She won’t mind. My sister is incredibly fond of you.”

“The feeling is mutual. I don’t want to put you out. I can get a taxi… sorry, cab, then come back in the morning,” I say.

He frowns. “It’s no trouble. The room is sitting empty, and I’d feel happier knowing you’re safe and not catching a cab in the middle of the night.”

“If you’re sure,” I say, not really wanting to venture out into the cold February night.

Alex smiles. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

We head up the internal spiral staircase.

“You have a pool?” I say, stating the obvious, as we reach the top step and look out onto a second balcony, this one housing an infinity pool.

“I do. It’s heated if you want to brave it. I personally prefer it in the summer months.”

I pause. As someone who could swim almost before I could walk, I find the idea incredibly tempting. That was the joy of having an older brother who competed at national level and came close to competing internationally. I was never one to be outdone. By the time I was seven, I was competing as well, but it was never my dream, so when Elijah stopped after his accident, I did too.

We walk to the far corner of the apartment.

“I think I’ll pass for tonight,” I say.

“Here you go.”

We step into the room that must be directly above his office, as it’s also a circular glass room. One side looks down onto the terrace below, the rest offering a panoramic view of New York.

“I’m not going to say ‘wow’ again, but ‘wow!’”

Alex chuckles behind me, so I turn to face him. “I’m supposed to sleep with all this to distract me?” I say.

He presses a button on the wall, and the glass becomes opaque.

“Nifty trick,” I say.

“The glass is tinted so no one can see in but making it opaque stops the sunlight from waking you at dawn, especially in the summer months.”

“You have a beautiful home,” I say.

“Thank you. The bathroom is through here. There are clean towels and new toothbrushes. Help yourself to anything you find.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll bid you goodnight. Sleep tight.”

“You too.”

His gaze is intense. My stomach flips, and my heart rate increases, but before I can acknowledge either, he turns and leaves.

I hit the button on the wall and allow the view to reappear. Stepping towards the glass, my eyes bulge, and my stomach jumps as I look at the ground, the cars below, little more than specks in the distance. Yet, despite the fear, the views and the tranquillity of being forty-three floors above the hustle and bustle of New York streets are magical.

I hit the button again and watch the view disappear. I make my way to the wardrobe, sliding open the enormous doors. Alex wasn’t lying when he said it was full of St Clair items. There’s everything from evening gowns to nightwear, most with their labels still attached.

I scour the shelves and find a camisole-and-shorts set. I pull it out and remove the tags, then enter the bathroom to take off my makeup and clothes. I jump in the shower. It’s a routine I’ve found helps me sleep. When I get out, I make my way into the bedroom. I grab my phone and send Mitch and Dan a quick message, letting them know my plans.

Putting my phone away, I look around.

No water.

I always sleep with water by my bed. I know Alex has a refrigerator stocked with bottles.

I let myself out and pad down the stairs.

CHAPTER 50

ALEX

She’s in my spare room, sleeping in one of my beds.

Despite the monotony of the task, tonight was fun. We laughed and joked. She told me about her family, although she dodged questions about why she’s chosen to be so far away. I’m beginning to wonder whether it’s not her family she’s running from but something else. A bad breakup, maybe?

I sit and stare out over the New York skyline, sleep evading me. I’m too aware of the woman upstairs and how she felt pressed against me. I should have turned down her offer of help tonight, but I found myself wanting to see her, especially when she told me she was embarrassed by what had happened.

There’s a noise behind me, and I turn to find Brooke descending the stairs.

“Is everything all right?”

She jumps. Her hand flies to her chest, and it’s only then I realise she’s wearing next to nothing. a simple camisole-and-shorts set.

“Shit, Alex, you scared the crap out of me.” Her voice is breathless.

I chuckle. “Eloquent,” I say.

“What do you expect? You’re sitting here in the dark. I wasn’t expecting you… I came to get a bottle of water.”

Her words come out in a rush, her arms crossing over her chest as if she’s only just become aware of how little she’s wearing.

“Help yourself,” I say. “You know where they are?”

“Thank you, I do.”

I watch as she makes her way into the kitchen. Her outfit leaves little to the imagination. I close my eyes and swallow the groan that threatens. I haven’t been this turned on by a woman in a long time. Why does it have to be someone I can’t have?

I hear the door to the fridge open and close.

“Night, then,” she says, reappearing.

“Do you want a nightcap before you go?”

She pauses.

“Why not,” she says, making her way over to where I’m sitting. Grabbing the throw from the back of one of the sofas, she wraps it around herself.

“Scotch, wine, or something else?”

I get up and move to my drinks cabinet.

“Baileys?”

“One Baileys coming up.”

I pour a glass and add some ice.

I carry it over to her, our fingers touching as she takes the glass.

“Thanks.”

She places the bottle of water she came down for on the table in front of her.

She swirls the drink, then takes a sip.

“I’ve missed this,” she says before her gaze snaps to mine. “That came out wrong,” she says. “I missed it at Christmas. It’s my Christmas go-to.”

“It’s a shame I didn’t know. Mother has a cupboard full of it. It’s her favourite.”

“Christmas with your family was fun,” she says.

My mind returns to the car journey home and to the way her lips felt against mine.

“I’m glad.” I take a sip of my Scotch, although the need for it has gone. My distraction is here, in front of me.

We sit in silence, enjoying our drinks. When Brooke finishes hers, she stands and holds out a hand for my empty glass.

“I’ll take them through to the kitchen.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Maybe not, but I want to.”

I hand her my glass, and she makes her way past me, the throw draped over her shoulders, her long, shapely legs on full display.

I swallow hard as she disappears into the kitchen. Seconds later, she returns and leans down to collect her bottle of water.

“Thank you for the company,” she says.

My breath hitches as she smiles.

“I’d better head upstairs too,” I say, falling into step beside her.

She keeps the throw wrapped around her as we climb the stairs.

It happens in a split second, the throw catches beneath her foot, knocking her off balance. I grab her, pulling her hard against me.

“Shit,” she says, her breath escaping in short pants. She looks up at me and grins. “Fast reflexes, Mr Bianchi.”

I cradle her against my chest, the blanket still tangled around her legs.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” I say, steadying her as I pull the material away from her feet.

We’re close. My body is acutely aware of Brooke, her hands resting against my chest.

I freeze, trapped by her unwavering gaze.

“Brooke.”

CHAPTER 51

HARPER

Iincline my head, my eyes moving to his lips as he whispers my name.

Reaching up, I place my lips against his.

My breath quickens, my fingers aching with the need to touch.

I know I shouldn’t. I should thank him and step away, but the memory of his mouth on mine all those months ago and of waking up next to him this morning, curled into his side… I can’t.

I’ve never wanted anything or anyone as much as I want Alessandro Bianchi. I want to feel his hands and mouth on my body, mine on his.

His heart beats rapidly under my hands, his attention locked on me. He doesn’t step back, so I slide my tongue along the seam of his lips, eliciting a growl that has my pussy clenching in anticipation.

I moan, my hands sliding up and into the short hair at the nape of his neck, raking my fingers against the skin, as he pulls me closer. There’s no mistaking his swollen cock pressed between us.

I roll my hips, earning myself another growl.

He drags his mouth away, resting his forehead against mine, closing his eyes for a second before opening them his gaze locking on mine.

“Brooke,” he says, his arms still wrapped around me.

“Alessandro,” I say, using his full name.

He moans.

“Do you know what it does to me when you use my full name?”

“I thought…”

He clasps my hips, pulling me firmly against him. I gasp, pressing forward, unsure where this newfound confidence has come from. I may be experienced in the ways of the world, but seduction is not one of them.

His hands tighten, but he doesn’t push me away.

“This is a dangerous game we’re playing.”

“We’re both consenting adults,” I say.

“I’m quite a bit older than you. You work for me. There’s a serious power imbalance. We’re at different stages in our lives,” he says.

“It sounds like you’ve thought a lot about this,” I say.

The idea excites me.

“More than I should,” he admits, closing his eyes.

I draw his bottom lip into my mouth and suck gently.

His grip tightens. A thousand butterflies dance in my stomach while desire pools south.

It’s my turn to moan, the pressure of his mouth on mine growing, his tongue sliding between my lips and duelling with mine. I suck on it as his hands sink into my hair, angling our mouths, deepening the kiss.

How long we stand there on the stairs, I don’t know. Alex pushes the throw aside, sweeping me into his arms and carrying me up the stairs. He turns left instead of right this time, shouldering his way into his room.

He lowers my feet to the floor, sliding me down his body.

I draw in a ragged breath, my nerve endings sizzling, my body pulsing with an unknown need.

“I’m going to hell,” he says, dropping his head back and staring up at the ceiling.

“Then we can both go together,” I say, my hands sliding under his jumper and up, taking the material with me, exposing his broad and sculpted chest to my gaze.

He rips it over his head, and my lips immediately connect with his nipple, sucking and nibbling.

He cups my head, pulling me back so his mouth can reconnect with mine.

He runs a finger down my front, sliding beneath the camisole top, cupping my breast in his hand.

I moan into his mouth, pressing forward, increasing the pressure. He tweaks my nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb.

My hands move to his belt, pulling it undone before popping the buttons on his jeans, freeing his straining cock.

“God, Brooke, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? I should send you back to your room.”

“Please don’t,” I say.

“Are you sure this is what you want? If you want to stop at any point, say the word and…”

I slam my mouth back against his, swallowing the rest of his sentence.

He picks me up, and my legs wrap around his waist. His straining cock is trapped between us, my breasts pressed against the solid wall of his naked chest. He lowers me onto the bed, my nipples hard and aching, begging for more, missing the feel of him.

I reach for him, but he steps back, kicking off his jeans, allowing them to drop to the floor, his boxers doing little to hide his erection.

He stops and stares down at me. “I should… we should.” He swallows, his breathing rapid as he meets my eyes. “Brooke, what the fuck are you doing to me?”

“The same thing you’re doing to me,” I admit, scooting up the bed before beckoning him towards me.

He crawls up the mattress, leaning over me.

“I’m taking advantage of you…”

I pull back slightly and let out a bark of laughter, pushing on his chest until our positions are reversed, and he’s lying flat on his back beneath me.

I slide a thigh over his hips, straddling him.

We both moan as our bodies connect, his cock nestled between my folds, only my shorts and his boxers between us.

“Is that better?” I ask, leaning forward, my mouth millimetres from his.

I remove my top before taking one of his hands in mine and pressing it against my breast. I curve my fingers around his until he’s cupping it. His eyes follow the movement, his mouth opening, his expression pained.

“Is it taking advantage if I want you to?” I ask, making him look at me.

I press into his hand, my pussy rocking against him. He moans before pulling my mouth back to his, his lips and tongue meeting mine. He pulls me down flush against him, moulding our bodies together, as I kiss his throat.

“Are you sure?” he asks, chuckling, then moaning when I growl and roll my hips.

“I’m going to fucking combust if you don’t touch me,” I tell him truthfully.

My body is on fire, my core pulsing with need.

He cups my face. “If at any point you want to stop,” he says.

“Will you stop being so chivalrous and…”

His smile is the last thing I see before his lips steal my breath. His hands make swift work of removing my shorts while his mouth remains on mine. Then his hands and lips sweep over me, leaving trails of desire that have me hot with need.

I grip his broad shoulders as he rolls us once more. The pressure of his body against mine has me squirming beneath him, his hard, smooth chest pressed against my throbbing breasts.

My hands move to his boxers, but he pulls back, getting up. I prop myself on my elbows and watch, unabashed by my own nakedness.

My mouth waters at the sight of him. He’s beautiful. His toned muscles and smooth olive skin. He’s Michelangelo’s David in living form.

He lowers his boxers, and I bite the inside of my cheek.

Holy shit.

Alessandro, proud and erect…

I slide my tongue over my bottom lip, our eyes locking as he stalks towards me.

He stops at the edge of the bed and plants one hand beside me to support his weight. With the other, he pulls my lip from between my teeth and trails his fingers over my chin and down my neck. My eyes never leave his as he continues downwards and between my breasts. My stomach muscles contract violently as he continues his descent, stopping at the top of my mound.

“You can see how much I desire you,” he says, looking down at his pulsing cock, moisture pooling at the tip. “How much do you want me?”

Our eyes lock as his hand trails lower.

He hums, his pupils dilating as his fingers slide over my swollen and slick flesh. He groans as he finds my entrance and the clear, unmistakeable evidence he’s looking for.

“Does that answer enough?”

I moan, spreading my legs and writhing against the sheets as his fingers tease my lips, my opening.

He bends his elbow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth at the same moment he slides a finger deep into my channel.

I rocket upwards, my body contracting sharply around him, hands grasping his hair.

“Fuck!” I hiss as he begins to slide it in and out.

“That’s it,” he says against my skin. “Relax, enjoy it.”

He suckles and nips my nipple, twisting his hand so his thumb finds my clit while his finger slides in and out. I spread my legs wider as he adds a second digit, stretching me.

I freeze at the slight burn, but his tongue on my nipple has me relaxing against him. He continues to move, my hands gripping his hair, drawing him closer. He groans and increases the pressure on my clit. Three swipes, and I’m coming apart, my body convulsing violently against him, my pussy pulsing.

He rests his forehead against my collarbone.

“Shit, Brooke,” he says, removing his fingers and gently massaging my swollen flesh. “You’re so sensitive.”

I moan at the feel of his hands still on me.

“More,” I whisper.

He raises his head and looks at me, taking a condom from his bedside drawer. I bite my lip as I watch him roll it on.

“Move further onto the bed,” he tells me.

I scoot back up, resting once again on my elbows.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he says, gazing down at me. “I’m probably going to hell for what I’m about to do.”

I crook a finger at him, beckoning him to me, and he smiles.

“But if I do die now, I have a feeling I’ll die happy.”

He moves up my body, his lips meeting mine, as he settles himself between my thighs. I moan, pressing up against him.

I feel the tip of him against my entrance.

“Please.”

I moan, rocking up and forward.

He enters me slowly, teasing and tormenting.

“That’s it, relax,” he says, pressing forward. “We’ll take it slow.”

He eases into me, centimetre by centimetre. I moan, my back arching off the bed. I’ve never felt anything like this. He continues to press forward. There is a slight burn, and I gasp. His mouth closes over mine, his tongue coaxing me, until I’m losing myself in his kiss. My hands find his arse cheeks, squeezing. He rocks forward, adding pressure, my muscles relaxing, allowing him to sink further into me.

We both moan when he’s finally seated. He lifts his head, resting his forehead against mine. I look up, finding myself drowning in his deep blue eyes.

“God, you feel good,” he says.

I tip my hips and roll them, loving the sound of his breath hitching.

My muscles contract around him, and he lets out a moan.

I cup his cheek. He turns his face into my palm and drops a kiss at its centre.

“Are you okay for me to move? You’re tight, and I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, his thoughtfulness almost more than I can bear. My emotions are stretched taut, and this man is deep in my body, thinking not about himself or his desires, but about me and my pleasure.

“You won’t. I want this, I want you. I think I have since the first day you came out of your office and glared at me.”

He moans again. “Don’t remind me,” he says, his mouth finding mine.

He pulls back before pressing forward slowly. He does this a couple more times until my body has completely accepted him. On the third time, my hips rise to meet his. He slides a hand under my arse and pulls me up and towards him.

“Oh my god,” I say as he hits a spot deep inside that has me seeing stars.

“Not yet, beautiful,” he says, his voice strained as he works himself in and out.

He withdraws almost completely, making me whimper, before slamming home.

The sound of our moans and bodies coming together fills the room. We move together, his hands sliding under my arse, cupping me, drawing me up against him, changing the angle until I’m gasping into his mouth. A pressure builds low in my core, my pussy aching with what it seems to know is about to come.

Alex rocks forward and back, his cock sliding over a pressure point deep inside me, one I never knew existed.

“That’s it, beautiful,” he whispers against my mouth. “I’ve got you.”

He presses forward one more time, and my body freezes.

“Look at me,” he orders.

“Ahhhhh,” I scream as I’m rocked by the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever felt.

My muscles contract sharply around him, loving the feel of being so stretched and full. He grunts as my body milks him, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he speeds up, sending me straight from one orgasm into another, stars flashing before my eyes. My desire leaks out over my thighs.

His lips crash down on mine as he continues to slide in and out of my body, increasing the pace, until he, too, slams forward and tenses. His cock jerks, his muscles shuddering as he empties himself into the condom.

He buries his head in my shoulder, breathing hard, my fingers drawing lazy circles on his back.

“That was…”

There are no words to describe it. Mind-blowing, earth-shattering. One thing is for sure, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.

He drops a kiss onto my shoulder before carefully withdrawing and rolling off me.

“Don’t move,” he says, disappearing into what I’m taking to be his ensuite.

He reappears moments later, having disposed of the condom and holding a facecloth.

He sits next to me, gently opening my legs.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m giving aftercare. Has no one done that for you before?”

I shake my head. He clearly hasn’t realised that no one has done any of this with me before.

I relax my muscles and let him run the facecloth over the tender skin between my legs, moaning as the pressure sends fresh pulses of pleasure through my overstimulated nerve endings. He drops his head and kisses my stomach, moving lower and lower.

He stops and lifts the cloth away.

“Brooke?”

I open my eyes and see blood on the facecloth he’s holding up.

I drop my head back and close my eyes.

“Brooke, look at me.”

Opening one eye, I wrinkle my nose.

“Were you a virgin?”

I’m surprised when my throat burns. What is wrong with me? I’m never this emotional.

“Hey,” he says, cupping my cheek.

I turn my head and press my face into his hand.

“I’m surprised, that’s all. Not many women get to twenty-four without having experimented at least once.”

“You’re not mad?”

He lies on the bed facing me.

“I’m glad I took it slow. It was a risk not saying anything. I could have hurt you,” he says, a line appearing between his brows. “I didn’t, did I?”

I shake my head. “No, it was perfect.”

“How?”

“What do you mean?”

“I find it hard to believe a woman who looks like you, is as confident and… sorry, probably not appropriate. I’m just…”

I chuckle. “Surprised?”

He nods.

I drop my gaze, but he’s having none of it, lifting my chin with his finger.

“It’s not that I’ve been saving myself. It’s just that I’ve never met anyone I wanted to take the next step with.” I look up to find him watching me. “The night my dad died. I went to a party he’d asked me not to attend. I went because there was a boy I fancied. Nothing happened between us, but losing Dad… kind of killed my libido for a while.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, dropping a kiss on my shoulder.

“I don’t expect anything,” I say, suddenly realising he may feel guilty or like I’ve cheated him somehow.

“Expect?”

“Anything beyond tonight.” A rush of heat floods my cheeks.

Alex raises a brow. “Are you telling me you used me?”

I stare at him wide-eyed. “No… no, of course not. It’s just I don’t want you to think…”

He smiles, and I realise he’s teasing me. My heart rate slows.

“Brooke, what do you want?”

“I… is that a trick question?”

“No, it’s a genuine one. Do you want to get up and get dressed, and have me drive you home? Or…”

“Or?”

“Or do you want to stay, see where this goes?”

“Are you only saying that because I was a virgin?”

“No, I’m saying that because I’ve just had one of the most powerful orgasms of my life, with a woman I find super-hot and impossible to resist, as I think tonight proved.”

“You find me super-hot and impossible to resist?”

“If you hadn’t noticed. But it’s more than that. I enjoy spending time with you. Italy, Christmas, working together, this evening. You make me feel there’s more to life than just work, although you seem to work as hard as I do.”

I roll onto my side and mirror his position, interlacing our fingers.

“I enjoy spending time with you too. I also find you immensely attractive… so it appears resistance is futile,” I say, making him chuckle. “As for orgasms, I will definitely not say no to more of those. You kind of rocked my world back there, Alessandro.”

He moans at my use of his full name, then cups my face before drawing my lips to his. His tongue slides into my mouth and he kisses me until we’re both panting.

“Then it’s settled, you’ll stay?” he asks, pulling me across his chest.

I should say no, get up and walk away, but Alessandro Bianchi is the first person I’ve allowed myself to relax and be myself with, even if it is all a lie. I’m simply not strong enough to walk away. Not yet.

CHAPTER 52

ALEX

Istare down at the woman sleeping in my arms.

I should be berating myself, but for some reason I can’t. Brooke is beautiful, but in my profession, beauty is hardly unfamiliar. Aubrey was beautiful, and Loretta was a supermodel, but with Brooke, it’s about more than her appearance. It’s what’s inside that draws me to her.

She turns her head into my neck.

“Hmm, I thought you were a dream,” she says, kissing the skin beneath my ear, her hand trailing over my chest.

“Not a dream,” I say, pulling her hard against me, her thigh sliding over mine and brushing close to my straining cock.

Her hand slides down my chest before encircling me. Dropping my head back, I groan as she suckles my neck and teases the crown of my cock with her thumb, spreading my pre-cum.

Turning my head, I capture her mouth with mine.

“Minx,” I breathe against her lips which tilt up into a smile.

“Good morning,” she says, her eyes opening as her gaze meets mine.

“Good morning,” I say. “How are you feeling?”

She grins. “Surprisingly well rested, but then I’ve heard that about orgasms.”

“Have you now?” I say, rolling us so she’s beneath me.

“I have. It’s in all the magazines. Orgasms flood your brain with a delicious cocktail of hormones. The perfect sleep tonic.”

“I’m glad I could be of service,” I say, lowering my mouth to hers.

She moans as our tongues touch, her hips rising and pressing against me. I run my fingers down her front, cupping one breast, teasing her nipple until the sound deepens against my mouth. I continue to travel south, pausing as I reach her mound.

“Please, Alessandro,” she begs.

My name on her lips is all I need.

I slide my hand between her legs, savouring the warm, swollen flesh. She rolls her hips and spreads her legs, my fingers trailing through the evidence of her desire.

“Is this what you want?” I ask, finding her entrance and sliding a finger deep into her core.

Her head drops back. “Yes,” she says as I curl my finger against the magic spot on her front wall, watching her eyes widen. “Oh… Alex…”

“That’s it, relax, beautiful. Let go, I’ve got you,” I say, my eyes never leaving hers.

I use my thumb against her clit, sliding a second finger into her, careful not to hurt her after last night.

“Shit,” she says, her eyes widening, her breathing becoming faster and shallower.

Our gazes lock as her muscles tighten and her body begins to contract around me, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

“That’s it,” I say, moving and curling my fingers, drawing out her orgasm.

When she finally comes down, she pulls my lips to hers in a frantic kiss.

“I want you,” she says, throwing her leg over me and straddling my waist, her desire warm against my stomach.

I lean over and grab a condom, quickly sheathing myself. My fingers find her entrance.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Delicious,” she says, biting her bottom lip.

I flick her clit a couple of times with my thumb until she’s moaning, her hips moving against me.

She lifts up, placing me at her entrance.

“You’re in control,” I say, earning myself a wicked grin.

She presses down, her mouth dropping open as she impales herself on me.

“Oh… wow… I…” Her words come out in a jumbled state. She slides down, taking me deeper.

I grit my teeth, counting in my head. Her tight little body is a vice around my sensitive dick, and I don’t want to embarrass myself.

She rocks and rolls her hips with me deep inside her body.

“That feels amazing,” she says, her hands coming up and squeezing her breasts as she moves above me.

I grip her hips, helping her balance, although her muscles are hard as rock beneath my hands.

She leans forward, planting her hands on the bed either side of my head as she presses her lips to mine. Her tongue moves against mine, as she slowly slides up and down my cock, slowly, teasing and tormenting. A pressure builds deep in my balls.

She continues to move and roll, groaning every time my cock hits her front wall.

“That’s it, ride me, ride me slowly,” I say, loving the sight of her above me.

She pushes herself upright, taking me as deep as possible. She tilts and rocks, her hands returning to her breasts. A flush spreads up her chest and across her cheeks, stealing my breath and control.

I find her clit with my thumb, drawing circles. Her breathing turns ragged as her eyes fly open and she shatters above me, her muscles pulsing, her desire coating the condom.

“That’s it, beautiful, let go.”

She begins to ride me hard, her muscles still contracting until I, too, join her over the precipice. My muscles tense as my cock jerks, filling the condom. She collapses on top of me, dropping her lips to my neck.

“Now that’s what I call a wake-up call,” she says, her breath tickling my skin.

I chuckle, sliding my arms around her. My cock begins to soften, and I reluctantly withdraw from her warmth.

She lets out a grunt of complaint, nuzzling my jawline before moving to my mouth.

I sink my hand into her hair and pull her closer, devouring her mouth.

Her stomach grumbles, followed closely by my own.

“Come on, all this exercise, I need to feed you,” I say.

She drops sideways and lies facing the ceiling before turning her head and grinning at me.

“My legs are like jelly,” she says.

“Good, that means I did my job as a lover.”

“Really?” She quirks an eyebrow.

I scoop her into my arms, making her squeal, her laughter warming something deep in my chest.

“Shower, then food,” I say, carrying her into the bathroom before setting her down on the marble surface and turning on the shower.

“Then files?” she says.

“We don’t have to… I’m sure we can find other things to do with our day.”

She opens her mouth. “Who are you and what have you done with Alessandro Bianchi?”

I growl. “You know what it does to me when you use my full name,” I say.

“Oh, I really do,” she says, wrapping her legs around my waist as I move us into the shower.

* * *

We work together to make breakfast before Brooke convinces me we need to finish the files.

I sit at my desk, hitting print on the final pages.

The printer whirls to life. Brooke looks over her shoulder, her eyes darkening, as she catches me watching her. She gets up and walks towards me, her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Is there something I can assist you with, Ms Feldmann?” I ask, sitting back in my chair, loving this carefree woman in front of me.

She rests her arse against the desk.

“I just need to stretch. Being on all fours…”

I moan, too aware of what she looks like on all fours, opening and closing the files, her pert arse in the air. I have spent the past few hours imagining what it would be like to pull down her leggings and slide my cock into her tempting pussy.

She leans back, bracing her hands on the desk behind her and pressing her breasts against her T-shirt.

“Are you trying to tempt me?”

“Am I succeeding?”

Her eyes drop to where my cock is now straining against my zipper.

She moistens her lips.

I move, pulling her into my lap. She comes with a laugh and a squeal as my mouth finds hers.

“I want to take you on my desk,” I whisper against her mouth.

“Yes, please,” she says, her arm snaking around my neck, pulling me firmly against her, leaving me in no doubt she wants the same thing.

I rise, lifting her with me before pressing her back until she’s lying across my antique desk.

I pull down her leggings and panties in one movement and throw them aside. Dropping to my knees, I blow over her sensitive flesh.

She groans and reaches for me. I capture her hands.

“Oh no, I need to make sure you’re ready for me. All of me,” I say.

“I am,” she whispers. “I ache.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

I place my mouth against her swollen pussy, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of my tongue, before thrusting it inside her. Her back arches, and she cries out.

“Alessandro,” she cries.

I move her legs over my shoulders and continue to feast, loving her taste and the way she responds to my touch.

“Please,” she screams when I insert two digits into her pulsing channel. “I’m so close.”

I gently withdraw my fingers, wanting to feel her orgasm around my cock.

I drop a kiss on her stomach, then pull her upright and meet her lips with mine.

“I can taste myself on you,” she says, surprised. “It’s…”

“Delicious,” I say, deepening our kiss.

She sinks into me.

I spin her around and place a hand on her back. She rests her hands on the desk before looking over her shoulder at me and grinning.

I incline my head.

She nods.

I pull a condom from my pocket, unzip and free myself, swiftly sheathing my cock.

“Are you ready for me?” I ask.

“More than ready,” she says, pressing her arse back against me.

I grip her hips and line myself up, pressing forward into her welcoming depths. Her muscles contract around me as I take my time, savouring the feel and every centimetre.

We both moan when I bottom out.

“Oh my God, that feels so deep,” she says breathlessly.

I lean forward and press a kiss against her neck.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she says, twisting her hips and beginning the dance between us.

I pull back slowly, torturing us both, before pressing home again, I keep the rhythm measured at first, until she’s pushing back against me, and the sound of our bodies meeting echoes around my home office. Her muscles contract, making me close my eyes.

I slide a hand around her front, finding the tight bud of nerves and flicking and circling it with my fingers, coating it in her arousal.

“Alessandro, I’m going to come,” she says desperately, her breath now coming in pants.

“Let go, beautiful,” I say, watching as her muscles lock beneath me and her pussy clasps me in a vice-like grip.

“Fuck!” I yell, picking up my pace, riding her through her orgasm, straight into my own.

My balls tighten, and I freeze, cum shooting from my body with more force than I’ve ever experienced.

“I’m never going to look at this space the same way again,” I groan, withdrawing and disposing of the condom, before sitting down and pulling her into my lap.

“It could be worse. It could be your office desk at St Clair.”

I run a hand down my face. “Now you’ve put thoughts in my head,” I say, making her tut.

“Not me, you just have a dirty mind.” She grins.

The picture myself bending her over my desk and sliding between her silky folds while the rest of the office goes about its daily business.

Heaven help me, I’m done for.

“And who’s to blame?”

“Definitely me, sorry, not sorry,” she says, sucking on my bottom lip, my cock springing back to life.

It’s like I’ve become insatiable.

We pull on our clothes. “Come on, we’re on the last twenty, then we’re done,” she says, and I’m beginning to wonder if she’s more of a taskmaster than I am.

“I’ll be sending the French and Italian packs back to the printers to get them amended,” I tell her, wrapping my arms around her waist as we stare down at the files that have been both a blessing and a curse. Without them, we may not have taken this step, but I, and every part of my aching body, am over them.

“Fine by me,” she says, turning and patting my chest, her hand resting above my heart. “I’ll get them couriered as soon as the updated versions arrive back from the printers.”

This is the crux. I’m leaving tomorrow and will be gone for three weeks. First to London, then on to Milan, and finally Paris. In London, I’ll be staying with Enzo, in Milan and Paris, I’ll stay at the hotels Brooke has arranged.

We haven’t mentioned what that separation means for us. I need to be prepared for the fact that when I return, she’ll have seen sense and decided that starting something is not a good idea.

“I can hear your brain whirling,” she says.

“Can you now?”

“I can,” she says before stepping back and turning to fully face me. “You’re wondering what’s going to happen after?”

Her perceptiveness always surprises me.

I lean my arse against the desk, making us the same height.

“Time apart will give you room to think, see what you want,” I say.

“What about you?”

“The past eighteen hours have been amazing,” I say, meaning every word.

“I’m sensing a but,” she says, her arms crossing over her chest.

“I want you to be sure this is what you want. I know you want to ignore the age gap, our positions, and I believe you when you say they mean nothing to you. That’s my but.”

She nods. “I get that, and I appreciate it, but Alex, I’m not going to change my mind. You’re the first man who’s made me want a relationship. This isn’t a flash in the pan, and I’m not saying it to put pressure on you. Relationships are complicated.”

I raise an eyebrow.

She shrugs. “Older siblings and their relationship dramas. Relationships take work, but I’ve also seen that if you have a real connection with someone, you don’t want to ignore it. You want to see where it goes. Age is merely a number. And as for jobs, if it becomes an issue, I can either move department or leave St Clair and look for alternative work.”

I pull her against me. “You’ve made your point. There’ll be no more talk of leaving,” I say, dropping a kiss on her nose.

“I will if you stop trying to second-guess me. I’m a grown arse woman who knows her own mind.”

“Got it, grown arse woman,” I say.

“Don’t you forget it,” she says, stepping back. “Let’s get these finished, and then I’m sure we can find something much more interesting and pleasurable to do with our time.”

“I’ve created a monster,” I say.

CHAPTER 53

ALEX

“Alex, have you heard a word I’ve said?” Enzo asks.

He’s sitting opposite me, wine in hand. It’s been a long week, despite talking to Brooke every day.

“Sorry,” I say.

“You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind. Anything I can help with? I thought this week had gone well.”

“It has,” I say, shaking my head.

He shoots me a questioning glance.

Our eyes lock, and I feel heat rise up my neck. I grab the glass of wine he’s just topped up and take a large swallow.

He leans back and rubs his jaw, his brows furrowing, but his eyes never leave mine.

“A staring contest… You only do that when you’re covering something up, like the time you dented Dad’s Porsche.”

“I was eleven, and I fell over, not my fault. I was wheeling my bike.”

“Leaving the office in a rush on Friday, radio silence over the weekend. Crying off when I messaged you about going out for a drink.”

“I was busy getting ready for this week. It had been a long week, all the back-to-back meetings on my doorstep.”

He inclines his head and waves a hand in my direction.

“Then there’s this whole glow you’re giving off, like…no.”

“No, what?” I say before I can stop myself.

“Almost post-orgasmic,” he says with a chuckle, “or that might simply be the enormous hickey you were sporting on Monday morning.”

My hand flies to my throat, causing Enzo to laugh out loud. “It’s fine, I’m pulling your leg,” he admits.

“Very funny,” I say.

“However, I hit the mark,” he says, his face growing more serious. “Who is she? This woman who’s sent you into a tailspin.”

I press my forefinger and thumb into the inner corners of my eyes.

I draw in a breath. “Brooke,” I say.

“No one could have seen that coming,” he says sarcastically.

“What are you talking about?” I say, staring at him.

“Your attraction.” He rolls his eyes. “Come on, Alex. You couldn’t take your eyes off her at Christmas and, according to Gabbi, were like a bear with a sore head throughout New Year after Brooke cried off. I’m just surprised you’ve acted on it.”

“I…I didn’t intend to.” I unclip my watch strap before re-clasping it. “Her sister was rushed to hospital on Friday.”

“Is that when it happened?”

“Hell no, what do you take me for? I wouldn’t take advantage of someone who was upset.”

“Okay,” he says, holding up his hands. “But it happened over the weekend?”

“She came over. I wanted to update the packs after our discussions last week.”

I pause.

“And one thing led to another?”

“It was late, and I didn’t want her travelling home alone, so I suggested she stay in Gabbi’s room.”

“And she agreed?”

“It made sense. We hadn’t finished all the files.”

I know I’m over-explaining.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up,” he says. “You don’t need to explain. I’m happy for you…Brooke’s great.”

“How can you say that?”

It’s Enzo’s turn to look confused. “I don’t understand.”

“You should be berating me. She’s closer to Avril’s age than she is to mine. I’m her boss. We’re at completely different stages in our lives. She comes from England…did I mention I’m her boss, and in a position of power?”

“So? You’re her boss. Was it consensual? I’m taking it, that it was.”

“Of course it was. What do you take me for?”

He shrugs. “Then I’m struggling to see what the real problem is here.” He folds his arms over his chest and stares me down. “I’m getting the impression it was more than a quick fuck? A quick bang to get it out of your system, and then you’d be done?”

I growl at him, and he raises an eyebrow.

“How does Brooke feel?” he asks, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

“What?”

“Brooke? What’s the problem? Did she fuck you and run, hide in the bathroom?”

“Of course not, she stayed the night…and stop saying fuck,” I snap.

Enzo smirks before it turns to shock. “Oh.”

“She spent the night in my bed, in my arms,” I admit. “And then we spent the whole of Sunday, through to Monday morning together, until I came away.”

“Wow,” Enzo says. He’s rarely this lost for words, but it seems I’ve got him now.

He knows my thoughts on relationships and sex, and that, since Loretta, I’ve kept everyone romantically at arm’s length.

“How was she Monday morning?”

“She appeared fine.”

“I’m struggling to see what the problem is.” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I know she’s still in New York, as I’ve heard you on the phone with her multiple times this week, including late at night.” He waggles his eyebrows, and I groan. “How is her sister, by the way? Did she not want to come to London with us to visit her family?”

“I asked her, but she said no. Her family told her to stay there.”

Enzo frowns.

“It’s weird,” I say, unsure I should be confiding this much in my brother, but out of everyone, he knows me best. “Listening to her speak to her family. They’re close. Yet she didn’t go back for Christmas, and no one has visited her since she arrived…I don’t know, something feels off, Enzo.”

“Hey, don’t read too much into it. Sometimes an emergency can make people see things in a different light. It doesn’t mean she hasn’t had problems with her family. This incident with her sister’s illness may have given them all a new perspective. Life-and-death situations often make most issues shrivel into insignificance.”

I know he’s right, but something in my gut tells me it’s more… or is that simply me trying to build barriers?

“When did you get so philosophical?” I ask.

He chuckles. “I have a teenage daughter. Everything’s a crisis. I’m just learning to pick my battles.”

Avril is flexing her teenage muscles, and with Enzo out of the country most of the time, my brother works hard to maintain a relationship with her.

“What’s next?”

I sigh.

“I don’t know,” I say, staring into my wine glass. “Everything happened so suddenly before I came away. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I get back. I’ve told her to think about it.”

“I take it you haven’t spoken to HR?”

I shake my head. It’s company policy for employees to disclose personal relationships, especially those involving a power imbalance. But ours only began over the weekend, and I was on a flight first thing Monday morning.

“Alex—”

“I know, but before I go storming in and laying out my private business in front of Sue, I want to know where we stand.”

“Do you think it was a one-off?”

I shrug, not wanting to put words into Brooke’s mouth before she’s had time to really think about what happened between us. My mind wanders back to Monday morning’s shower and how it felt with Brooke’s lips wrapped around my cock, her tongue licking and teasing my slit, before I came hard all over her breasts.

Enzo stares at me for a moment. “Look, if you like her, put all the other crap you were spouting at me to one side.”

I go to open my mouth, but he holds up a hand.

“Brooke is the first woman I’ve seen you this invested in. Yes, it’s early days, but don’t overthink and sabotage it without giving it a chance.” He inclines his head. “She may be younger than you and your subordinate, but that woman is not your average twenty-four-year-old. There’s an air of maturity about her.”

He’s not wrong.

I can’t deny it.

There’s something about Brooke that makes me wonder what she’s seen and what has her hiding away.

There’s so much I don’t know about her.

I’ve never felt this confused about a woman. But it was more than just the sex. Afterwards, I wanted to hold her all night, wake up with her and have breakfast with her… and we did.

“Can I give you a piece of advice?” he asks.

“I get the impression you’ll offer it anyway,” I say drily.

“Stop overthinking it. Enjoy the moment. Let her set the pace. Don’t railroad her, and if you really like her, woo her.” He chuckles. “I know you have it in you somewhere to be romantic.”

I harrumph. Do I? I’m not sure Loretta would agree.

Enzo gets up, placing his glass in the sink. “I’m going to call it a night, get some beauty sleep. Tomorrow is set to be a late one.”

Tomorrow is the final day of the London show before we fly to Milan. “You know where I am if you need me.”

I nod.

He pauses for a second, before leaving, and I wonder if he was about to say something else.

I stare at the door for a long time after he’s left before picking up the phone.

* * *

ME:

How’s your day going?

Three dots appear instantly.

BROOKE:

It’s coming to an end. The courier has just messaged to say the packs will arrive at the hotel in Milan tomorrow.

ME:

Thank you.

BROOKE:

You can thank me when you get home.

I dial her number. She answers on the first ring.

“Hey,” I say. “How are you?”

“It’s been a crazy day…week. With you, Teresa and Elise out of the office.”

“Only another two weeks to go.”

“Don’t remind me,” she groans.

“Missing me?”

“Yes,” she says bluntly. “Yes, if you could just leave it there.”

I chuckle. “Afraid of getting caught talking dirty to your boss, Ms Feldmann?”

She harrumphs.

“You wish.” She chuckles.

“I do. How’s your sister? Asking after your grumpy arse boss?”

I heard her on the phone with her sister over the weekend. It was the first time Brooke had been able to speak to her because her sister had been heavily medicated. She and her family appeared close. When she saw me in the doorway, she told them she was going to work. I’m not sure if they realised it was Sunday.

“She’s doing much better. Her infection is clearing up. Hopefully she’ll be able to go home soon.”

“I’m glad she’s out of the woods.”

“Call me when you get home.”

“Will do…bye.”

CHAPTER 54

ALEX

“Thank you for all your support and hard work,” I say, shaking yet another hand.

Elise and I have made it our mission this morning to visit every department and thank the teams personally. We couldn’t have done it without them, and I like to let them know we appreciate their hard work and dedication and that everyone’s efforts have paid off.

Our Fall/Winter collection was a massive hit everywhere it landed. Media coverage for the brand has been extensive. We’ve secured lucrative wholesale orders from almost all our major buyers and some new ones, and by Paris, we had a queue of A-list celebrities and brand ambassadors ready to fuel the hype. That, combined with the rave reviews and editorial features we’ve been promised, means St Clair is flying.

I draw a deep breath as the elevator finally arrives on my office floor. The past few weeks have been torture. I’m not sure how one woman could invade my every waking moment, but she has. I’m usually in control of my thoughts and emotions, but she seems to have broken through my defences. We’ve spoken on the phone, but now I want, no, need, to see and touch her.

Brooke is sitting at her desk, her nose wrinkled as she focuses on whatever is on the screen.

“Hey,” I say quietly.

She jumps, her hand going to her chest.

“Alex,” she says, a dark flush spreading up her neck and over her cheeks. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

“I wasn’t intending to come in, but I got some sleep on the flight and wanted to congratulate the teams. I’ll draft an official message, but I prefer the personal touch.”

She smiles, and my breath catches.

“I like that,” she says. “Valuing your staff is important.”

“Well, I know one I especially value,” I say under my breath but loud enough for her to hear.

The streak of colour on her cheekbones darkens, and her pupils dilate.

The elevator pings, and footsteps approach at speed.

Dominic rounds the corner, pulling up short when he sees me.

“Alex, you’re back.”

“I am,” I say, stating the obvious.

“I was just coming to see Brooke to find out when you were due in.”

“You want to talk now?”

“Is that all right?”

“Of course.”

“Can I get you anything?” Brooke asks.

“Coffee,” Dominic says. “Is there any more of your cake left?”

Brooke smiles at him. “I believe there may be a slice or two. Alex?”

“None for me. I ate before I headed in, but a coffee would be great.”

She nods, and I shoot her a look of apology before ushering him into my room.

Dominic talks about everything and nothing for the next hour.

“You have some valid points, Dom. Send Brooke an email, and she can add them to the agenda of our next board meeting. Let’s put them to the rest of the team.”

I emphasise the word team. As old-school as Dominic is, he sometimes seems to forget that he’s part of one. He wants to keep himself relevant.

“Good, good,” he says. “Now go home and get some rest. You must be exhausted.”

“It’s been a long three weeks. I can’t wait to be back in my own bed,” I admit, especially if someone is there with me, although I don’t say the last part.

He nods and grabs the plate with the leftover cake.

I see Dominic out and beckon Brooke in.

“More baking?” I ask, as she follows, shutting the door behind her.

She smiles and shrugs. “It gives me something to do, and Dominic has an incredibly sweet tooth.”

I chuckle. “I think it’s more the home cooking. His wife has him on a very strict diet.”

Brooke’s face falls, her brows furrowing.

“Don’t worry, everything in moderation. At nearly sixty-five, he takes good care of himself.”

“Maybe I’ll drop the frequency then,” she says.

“I’m hoping you won’t have time now I’m back.”

I step towards her.

Her smile deepens.

“Is that right?”

My hands go to her waist, and I want nothing more than to haul her against me.

“Are you coming over tonight?”

“Would you like me to?” she asks, her tongue moistening her bottom lip.

My hands encircle her waist, pulling her towards me.

“Most definitely…”

A knock at my door has us jumping apart. I stifle a groan.

What do they say? No rest for the wicked? I want to do wicked and inappropriate things to the woman in front of me.

“Come in,” I say.

I shoot Brooke a look of apology, but she simply grins, moving further away.

Mother enters.

“Sandro,” she says. “I was in the area.”

She looks between us. “Am I interrupting?” she asks.

“No,” we both say together, causing her to raise her eyebrows at me.

I smile. “I was about to dictate a thank-you message to the team,” I say, wanting to deflect.

“I heard this week proved quite successful. I wondered if I could treat you to lunch? Catch up on what happened in Milan and Paris,” she says, stepping further into the room.

Mother was with us in London but returned to the US before the second leg.

I look at Brooke.

“You go,” she says with a smile. “No one was expecting you in today.”

“Thank you, Brooke,” Mother interjects. “See? No one is expecting you. I’ve made a reservation at your favourite restaurant.”

I close my eyes and reopen them, forcing a smile.

“Great,” I say, knowing it’s either now or later. “I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.”

“Perfect. Lovely to see you, Brooke,” she adds before sweeping out of the room.

“Sorry,” I say, shooting a look of apology to the woman I want to take in my arms and kiss until we’re both breathless. Who am I kidding? It’s not only kissing. I want to worship her. But the office is not the place, and she still has a job to do.

“I’ll see you later?” I ask again.

She smiles, inclining her head. “If you want to?”

“I most definitely do.”

I move to my desk drawer and pull out my spare keycard.

“This will give you access to the penthouse,” I say.

She takes it, staring at it and then at me.

“Tonight,” she says, and I nod.

“Tonight.”

I don’t kiss her, not with Mother waiting downstairs. I’m going to need to set myself some boundaries. I’m a professional. The office is not the place to conduct a clandestine affair. I’m not some lovesick teenager who can’t control himself, and there’s still the issue of HR, something I’ll need to address once Brooke and I have talked tonight.

We walk out together. Brooke moves back to her desk, our fingers brushing. She looks down, and when her gaze returns to mine, her eyes are sparkling.

“Go…I’ll see you tonight. We can talk then,” she says.

I groan, making her laugh, but head towards the elevator; duty calls.

CHAPTER 55

ALEX

It’s getting late when I enter the apartment. Lunch became something more. A thousand questions and answers. What happened with Aubrey? I shouldn’t let one bad relationship sway me for the rest of my life. We’re not designed to be alone. Successful men need support systems, and so it went on.

“Hi,” the voice I’ve been waiting to hear says.

I look up to find her leaning against the wall. She came.

“Hi,” I say. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

She moves towards me, placing a finger over my lips.

“Don’t apologise.”

I draw it into my mouth and nip it gently. Her lips part, a slow smile building as our eyes lock.

She steps closer, my body filling with warmth.

I wrap my arms around her, every part of me aching to touch more of her.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers, her hand moving, sliding around the back of my neck.

“Me too,” I say, dropping my forehead to hers. “What now?” I ask.

“Now? I want you to kiss me.”

I moan, pulling her flush against me, plundering her mouth as if I’m starved of oxygen.

Her touch, her taste. I crave all of her.

She returns my kiss with a desperation of her own, her hands sliding under my shirt and her nails digging into my skin, making my muscles contract and quiver.

“God, Brooke, I’ve missed you,” I admit, knowing it’s the truth.

“Not half as much as I’ve missed you,” she says as I suck her bottom lip into my mouth, eliciting another groan.

I slide my hands under her sweater, running them up her sides, taking the material with me until her arms are raised above her head, then I slip it up and off, throwing it to one side.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I say. Her chest is heaving from our kisses.

She grips my shirt, pulling me back towards her, her mouth finding mine, deepening our kiss once more, her fingers working the buttons free before sliding it off my shoulders and down to my wrists.

She pulls back and grins, my hands trapped inside my cuffs.

“A game for later, maybe,” I say, enjoying the twinkle in her eye as she stares at me. “First, I have three weeks to make up for.”

I pull my hands free and throw my shirt on top of her sweater, placing her hands against my now bare chest. The contact sends shards of awareness sparking through my system and straight to my cock.

“What are you doing to me?”

I groan as she leans forward and takes one of my nipples into her mouth. She nips and licks it the way I did hers before I left.

I cradle her head before reclaiming her mouth.

I manoeuvre us back towards one of the large couches, following her down onto the cushions, cradled between her thighs.

I draw back and look into her lust-filled eyes, knowing mine must reflect the same hunger. She undoes the button of my suit pants before sliding her hands around my hips and squeezing my arse. I rock against her core, my cock pulsing, making us both moan.

Unclasping her bra, I draw a pebbled nipple into my mouth, sucking and licking. Her hands sink into my hair, her back arching against me.

My other hand kneads her breast and rolls the second pebbled nipple between my fingers.

Brooke presses up against me, her muscles flexing, her fingers sinking into my hair, massaging my scalp.

Moving down her body, I plant kisses along her rib cage and across her navel, spreading her legs wider, positioning my shoulders between her thighs.

I look up, her eyes meeting mine.

She bites her lip, her eyes glazed.

My gaze drops to her glistening pussy. Her lips are slick, begging to be soothed. I moan, inhaling her scent, before closing my eyes and dropping my mouth to her core, savouring. I lick from entrance to clit before locking onto the tiny bud of nerves that is firm beneath my tongue. I suckle gently while my finger finds her entrance and teases her in the way I’ve come to know she likes. I dip in slightly, before withdrawing and spreading her arousal over her.

“Alessandro,” she hisses, writhing beneath my mouth.

I double down, allowing my mouth free rein, my finger sliding deep inside her, curling against her front wall, finding that magic spot.

“Oh. Fuck… Alessandro…” she yells, as she shatters, her body clenching around my finger.

I continue to suckle until she finally drops back against the cushions.

I slide up her body.

My mouth finds hers. Brooke moans, her tongue sliding into my mouth, her hands locking behind my head, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss.

“Hmm, that was…” she groans against my mouth.

“Lost for words, Ms Feldmann?”

She tenses slightly.

“I need you,” she says, pressing her lips back to mine, wrapping her thighs around my hips and pulling me closer.

It’s my turn to groan.

“These past few weeks have been torture,” I hear myself admit, surprising myself.

Grabbing a condom from my pocket, I kick off my suit trousers.

I roll it on and return to her, positioning myself between her thighs.

“I ache,” she admits. “Please, Alex.”

“You never have to beg.”

I take her hand, wrapping it around my cock. She moves me to her entrance, her eyes meeting mine. I push in slowly, our breath hitching as I slide deeper into her.

She moans as I sink into her welcoming depths, gripping her arse, and lifting her onto me. Her cry of pleasure hardens my cock further.

“That’s it,” I say, pressing forward. She spreads her legs wider, and I take my time, easing backwards and forwards, allowing her body to grow accustomed once more to my invasion.

When I’m finally fully seated, my balls resting against her arse, I pause, taking a breath.

Her fingers play with the hair at my nape, her thighs cradling my hips.

“God, you feel so good,” she says. “I thought I’d imagined it.”

She bites her lip as she shifts her hips slightly, groaning.

“How does it feel?” I ask.

I want. No, I need to know.

She opens her eyes and stares at me, her pupils dilated.

“I feel full, stretched… wonderful.”

Her muscles contract around me, making my cock twitch.

“You feel amazing, so tight, warm. Even through the condom, I can feel you.”

She moans at my words.

“I want you to move, to slide in and out of me, I want to feel you come deep inside me. I…”

I slam my mouth down on hers, my hands gripping her backside, lifting her before I pull back and drive into her, pausing.

“Yes, just like that,” she breathes against my mouth, her nails digging into my shoulders.

I begin slowly, until her hips are moving frantically beneath me. I flip us so she’s on top, allowing her control. Her thigh muscles quiver as she rides me up and down, and I watch my glistening cock slide in and out of her tight pussy.

“Oh god, I’m so close,” she says, her head going back.

I lift my hands and cover her breasts, tweaking her nipples. She moans, her eyes meeting mine.

I sit, wrapping one arm around her back, dragging her against me, while my mouth latches onto her nipple.

She rocks forward.

I slide a hand between us, finding her clit and strumming it with my thumb.

“Oh… Ah… Ah, Alessandro…” she yells, her muscles contracting hard around me, her body shaking at the force of her release.

I pull her closer and continue to thrust into her pulsing muscles, loving the feel of them squeezing me.

My balls tighten as I thrust up into her.

“Yes,” I yell as my body convulses and my muscles twitch, my cock jerking as my release fills the condom.

She clutches my head against her breast as I ride the wave.

When it finally ends, I lie back, pulling her with me, cradling her against my chest. We lie panting as our sweat-coated bodies come back down to earth.

She turns her head, resting it against my shoulder, her lips kissing my neck.

“That was…” she says sleepily. “Hmmm.”

Her satisfied sound twists something in my chest.

“It was,” I say, running a hand over her hair and wondering what the hell is happening, and how this woman has managed to worm her way into my life.

She snuggles down as I reach behind her, pulling a throw over us both.

My cock begins to soften.

“Shit,” I say, shifting her slightly and withdrawing from her body, grabbing the end of the condom and tying a knot in it before it slips off. I drop it onto the floor before pulling her back into my arms. It’s then I realise she’s already fallen asleep.

I gaze down at the woman sleeping in my arms. This woman has appeared in my life, may or may not be my mother’s spy and has somehow managed to befriend my little sister, which is not an easy feat. She has most of the office in love with her, not romantically, but certainly in awe of her. And now she has me. I’m behaving like some lovesick teenager, not a nearly forty-year-old divorcé who runs one of the world’s leading fashion houses.

I pull her close, loving the way she tightens her hold, even in her sleep. I close my eyes. There’ll be plenty of time to talk later.

CHAPTER 56

HARPER

Iwake with a start.

Arms tighten around me, soothing, comforting.

“Hey,” a voice says close to my ear.

My muscles relax.

Alessandro.

His voice soothes me, and I sink back against the warmth of his skin with a soft hum. Memories of the previous evening come flooding back. I remember the things this man did to my body, how I rode his cock until we were both screaming. I didn’t think it would be possible for us to pick up from the weekend before he left; I thought it would be awkward, stilted… how wrong can one woman be?

I burrow my head into his chest. His body vibrates as he chuckles beneath me.

“Don’t laugh,” I say.

“I’m not. It’s endearing. I can hear your brain whirring from here.”

I shift slightly until I can look up into his face. His eyes are twinkling, and he looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. I suppose that’s what orgasms do to a man. Apparently, they have the same effect on me, because I fell into a deep sleep straight afterwards.

He runs a hand over my hair, and I tilt my head, dropping a kiss onto his bare chest.

“If you do that, we won’t be talking. You said yesterday you wanted to talk,” he says with a groan.

I smile against the muscles beneath my lips. I did, but after last night, everything in my world is calmer.

“Talk is overrated,” I say, looking up, not wanting to think about the lies I’ve told him or why I’m really here.

Dan and Mitch say the team are struggling to gather information from the party and track down old, deleted accounts. Seven years on, people don’t want reminders of their misspent youth, so they’ve either set up new accounts or deleted past posts. The hunt continues.

“And we’ve done lots of talking, albeit over the telephone, for the past three weeks,” I add.

He quirks a brow, his arms wrapping around me. “Maybe, but we need to talk about us,” he says, breaking the silence with a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Especially after last night.”

I sigh. This man is addictive, but I know he’s right. It’s not as if he’s just anyone. He’s my boss, the CEO of an international company.

It’s just hard to stop, especially when everything this man knows about me is a lie. Even the little truths are semi-lies. But there’s nothing I can do about that now, or the fact that it’s not my name he calls when he comes hard inside me.

My chest constricts sharply.

Suck it up, buttercup! You’ve made your bed.

I have two options. I can enjoy this man and everything he offers until our time is up, however long that is. Or I can make an excuse and walk away. His arms tighten around me, as if sensing where my thoughts are going, and I’m not sure how easy that option would be. I hook a leg over his thigh.

“Talk,” I say, as he groans.

“You play dirty for someone new to this,” he says, his cock twitching and hardening between us.

I chuckle, then moan as his hand slides lower.

I bite my lip and suck in a sharp breath.

“Two can play at that game,” he chuckles.

“Fine. You wanted to talk, so talk,” I say with a grin, gently rocking my hips against him, loving the flush spreading over his cheeks.

His Adam’s apple bobs. “I know you want to keep our relationship out of the public eye.”

Ah, it’s that conversation. I stop, moving slightly, until I’m on my stomach, resting my hands and chin on his chest.

“I’m your PA. You’re Alessandro Bianchi, my boss and CEO of the St Clair Fashion House. People are going to have an opinion about us, and I don’t want us to become the latest office scandal.”

I repeat the words I’ve thought long and hard about over the past three weeks.

My mind returns to Daphne gossiping about Evelyn in the kitchen.

I can’t have that level of scrutiny, and if the press found out… my stomach sinks at the thought.

He chuckles, surprising me.

“It’s okay. I’ve no desire for us to become office gossip either. I’m happy to keep our relationship private, and not because I’m ashamed of you.” His arms tighten around me. “We don’t need the intrusion, especially from the media. When we’re ready, we can come out as a couple. Until then, we can keep our private lives private.”

My heart rate picks up. Enzo warned me about the press and how they love to stick their noses into the Bianchi family’s private lives. I’m playing with fire with Alex, but I can’t seem to help myself.

As if sensing my distress, he pulls me closer.

“We can keep this between us, but I will need to let Sue know.”

“Sue know what?”

My stomach drops.

“About us. She’s the head of HR, and I’m your boss. Relationships within the company must be disclosed, especially when there’s a power imbalance or a potential conflict of interest. It’s written in the guidelines. If I fail to report us, I’d be breaking my company’s rules, something any other member of staff would face disciplinary action over.”

I groan and drop my head because both are true. How could I have forgotten? I read and signed the bloody thing.

“But…”

He cups my face. “The rules are there to protect you.”

I pull back. “I don’t need protecting.”

I know I sound petulant, but the last thing I need is anyone knowing my business, our business, speculating about us. I like Sue, and as head of HR, I’m sure she’s watertight, but even so. How would she view a relationship between Alex and me?

Unprofessional, I’m sure!

My stomach tightens. I don’t need any additional scrutiny or anyone looking too closely at me, at us.

Alex sits up, his back to me. “This is non-negotiable, Brooke. I’m simply giving you a heads-up. It’s in the contract you signed. We can’t ignore our power imbalance. If I don’t declare this, then it makes a mockery of the whole policy.”

I stand up, grabbing my clothes as I go.

“Brooke,” he says, turning to face me, the throw he covered us with last night pooling around his waist.

Yanking my jumper over my head, I ignore the beautiful expanse of chest in front of me.

He sighs, following suit.

I stoop and pick up our discarded condom from the floor before making my way into the kitchen, wrapping it in tissue and disposing of it in the bin. I don’t want anyone else knowing our business.

Shit!

I lean my hands on the marble surface and drop my head forward, squeezing my eyes closed as I inhale and exhale.

He comes to stand next to me, his back resting against the unit.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” I say, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

Way to go, Harps. Another royal fuck-up.

“What wasn’t a good idea? Sleeping with your boss, getting involved with me?”

I lift my head and turn to face him. His face is guarded.

He swivels towards me.

“Talk to me,” he says.

I move my hands to grip his waist and rest the top of my head against his chest, needing the warmth, the comfort only he seems able to give.

“I’m scared,” I whisper. “As you said yourself, you’re my boss. There’s a fifteen-year age gap between us. They’ll see me as a money-grabbing social climber. The idea of people whispering behind my back… I don’t need or want that.”

He runs a hand over my hair.

“It goes both ways, you know. People could see me as the sad divorcé who’s sleeping with his young nubile PA.”

I know he’s saying it to lighten the mood.

I raise my head and quirk an eyebrow. “Looking like you do, Alex, not a fucking chance. More like the guys in the office will be slapping you on the back.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Well, at least you make me feel young.”

I shake my head as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me firmly against him, the feel of his lips against my hair soothing some of my inner turmoil.

“It’ll be all right. It would not be worth Sue’s job to tell anyone.”

“I know,” I sigh. “But she’s bound to look at me differently.”

“Why?”

“Because of everything we’ve discussed.”

“So, it does bother you?”

I shake my head. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Explain,” he says.

“It’s just you and me. We know what this is, how it’s grown and how we feel when we’re together. The outside world isn’t privy to that.”

“Who cares what the outside world thinks?”

“I do,” I say, spinning away, knowing my reaction is more than he’s expecting, but I can’t go through this again. The stares, the pointing. Not that I can tell him about any of that. They’d turn something beautiful into something ugly and twisted.

“Okay, there’s another option if HR is out,” he says. “Due to my position, I can let someone on the board know, but I’ll warn you, if they feel it needs to be disclosed, they will.”

I incline my head.

“Do you have someone in mind?”

“Enzo,” he says.

“You want to tell your brother about us?” I stare at him wide-eyed, and it’s then that I notice the slight flush of colour across his cheekbones.

“He already knows,” he admits.

“You told him about us?” I stare at him, my heart rate increasing.

Enzo is lovely. We had a great time at Christmas, but being a family friend and dating his brother are two very different things.

“I did.”

“And?”

“He told me not to overthink it and to see where it goes.”

A warmth spreads through my chest.

He told his brother about us. Didn’t hide me away like some dirty little secret.

“Will telling Enzo be enough?”

“I’ll speak to him. If he feels HR needs to know, then he can pass it on. He may require that we both sign a consensual relationship agreement.”

“A what?” I ask. Then the penny drops. “I need to sign a document to say you’re not coercing me into sleeping with you?”

I chuckle.

“Something like that,” he hisses, as I palm his hardening dick through his trousers.

“Or vice versa,” I say, unbuttoning his bottoms and sliding my hand inside to encircle him.

“Most definitely.” He moans as I run my thumb over the swollen head, enjoying the dampness of the pre-cum.

Sliding them down, I’m pleased there are no boxers beneath, as he clearly abandoned them in his rush to follow me.

I lock our gaze and lower myself to my knees, licking my lips as I go.

He moans as my intention becomes clear.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he hisses as I take him into my mouth, lapping at his slit.

His hands come up to cradle my head, his fingers sinking into my hair.

I slide my mouth up and down, using my tongue on the underside of his cock. His fingers tighten as I take him as far into my mouth as I can without gagging.

Looking up, I find him watching me, his pupils dilated.

“Brooke,” he whispers.

I slide my hands around his thighs and grip his arse. Unable to believe I’m sucking him off on my knees in his kitchen, but I can’t get enough of the man.

Moaning, I close my eyes, savouring his taste, the feel of him and the power in his body.

His hands slide beneath my arms, and he sweeps me up and onto the kitchen worktop, the cold marble a sharp contrast to my burning core. He rips off my leggings and throws them to one side, grabbing a condom from his pocket and sheathing himself with expert precision before moving between my thighs and entering with one swift stroke.

I gasp at the sudden fullness, but after the sex earlier and how turned on I am from having him in my mouth, I’m more than prepared.

He stops.

“Shit, are you okay?”

“More than okay. Don’t stop,” I say, wrapping my heels around his backside and pulling him forward.

His mouth meets mine and our tongues duel. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, and he groans.

He pulls me forward, angling me as he slides in and out, his speed building up. Gone is the gentleness of before. This is more about us coming together, staking our claim. HR or not, I can’t give this man up. Not until I have to.

I lie back slightly, his cock driving into that special place deep inside. He hits it over and over, my orgasm building quickly.

“Shit, I’m going to come,” I say, another flood of arousal leaking out of me.

“Come with me,” he growls.

We both shudder as our release tears through us. My body clamps down on his jerking cock, as he continues to move in and out of me, my muscles loving the invasion, the fullness as they spasm around him.

“You’re turning me into a sex-mad hussy,” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath.

He pulls me forward and slams his mouth on mine, his cock still buried deep inside me.

When we finally part, his eyes lock on mine.

“We’ll sort this out. I promise, I’ll protect you.”

“I trust you,” I say, cupping his cheek, but knowing that what he has just promised is not something I can hold him to.

CHAPTER 57

HARPER

The following afternoon, my phone rings.

“Brooke, it’s Enzo.”

“Enzo, how was Milan? Paris? You must be relieved to be home.”

“I don’t honestly know how Alex does it, all that schmoozing.” He groans dramatically. “I think I’ll stick to the jewellery side of the business.”

“But you go along?”

“I also enjoy the chaos, the buzz. It’s enthralling,” he says.

I chuckle.

“In your element then?”

“Most definitely. It’s very informative. All the gossip you hear from and about potential clients.”

His tone makes me question what he’s in the know about, but I don’t dare ask.

“Information is power,” I say.

“Exactly,” he says. “You know why I’m calling?”

“You want to know if I willingly entered into this relationship?” I drop my voice to a whisper, hoping the walls don’t have ears.

“I have to ask,” he says.

“I understand. I did,” I say after a brief pause. “Are you going to warn me off, tell me to stay away from him?”

“God no. What gave you that idea?”

“I have older brothers.”

“Ah, you think I should be warning you off?”

“No, oh hell, I have no idea. I’m new to all this relationship stuff.” I sigh.

“Do you like him?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“A pretty basic one, I’d say.”

“Yes, I like him, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Is that why you don’t want Sue knowing?”

“Partly. I don’t want to become office gossip. I’m not from New York, and I don’t want to enter the dining hall and have everyone go silent and stare at me because I’m sleeping with the boss. I’ve just begun to make friends.”

“And you don’t want to jeopardise that?”

Heat spreads up my neck and cheeks. This is not really the conversation I want to be having with my lover’s brother.

“Is that wrong?”

“No, I hate my love life being the topic of conversation. It adds pressure when you don’t want it.”

A wave of sympathy washes over me. I understand where he’s coming from, not that I can tell him that. Maybe one day, if he ever speaks to me again, when the truth about who I am finally comes out.

“Sue is watertight, you know. It wouldn’t be worth her job to spread gossip.”

“I know. Alex said the same thing, but she might view me differently,” I tell him truthfully. “I’m not sure I want to take that risk. Not yet anyway. Perhaps in a few weeks, months, when we know what this is, where it’s going?”

“I get it,” he says. “I’ve sent you a copy of the consensual relationship agreement. Are you happy to sign it? I’ve had Alex sign one, but it means… you’re going to need an independent witness, someone impartial.”

“Because he’s your brother?”

“Exactly.”

I open the document and scan the pages. My brothers taught me never to sign anything without checking the fine print. It’s basic as far as contracts go, simply stating that I’m entering into this relationship of my own free will. “I’ll print it out and get it witnessed,” I say, wondering if Dan or Mitch will do the honours, and how embarrassing it’s going to be to ask them. But they know where I’ve been staying. They simply nodded but kept their counsel.

“Thank you,” Enzo says. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I haven’t seen Alex this happy in a long time. You’re good for him. I know it’s early days, but I could see at Christmas there was something between you, and while he was away, despite all the stress he was under…”

“He’s good for me too,” I admit.

A tightness forms in my chest when I think of all the lies I’ve had to spin. Would the truth, my turbulent past, the sex tape, change his perception of me?

I’ve spent years being rebellious and reckless, whereas Alex is disciplined and meticulous.

As if reading my mind, he continues. “I’m going to say the same thing to you as I did to Alex in London. Don’t overthink it. No one knows what the future holds.”

“You give good advice,” I say, with a smile.

“Shh, don’t tell anyone. I’m supposed to be the wild, playful brother,” he says, but I don’t miss the tone. I recognise it from Caleb, who was always the fun-loving, fancy-free playboy, but was searching for something underneath it all… someone… Then he found April.

“Enzo, thank you.”

“If you need me, I’m a phone call away. I’ll be over in a couple of months to visit Avril. I may see you then,” he says, and there’s no missing the sadness in his tone when he talks about his daughter.

I know how hard it is to be separated from family. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to be separated from your child for months at a time.

“That would be great,” I say, wondering if I’ll even be here.

“She’s still writing in her journal. Keeps the key on a chain around her neck,” he adds.

“We women need somewhere private to keep our thoughts. I’m glad she likes it.”

I miss my journal. I left it behind at Pen’s, deciding not to start a new one, for fear someone would find and read it.

“Take care, Brooke.”

“You too, Enzo.”

“Brooke,” Alessandro says, exiting his office. “All good?”

I smile at him and nod.

CHAPTER 58

HARPER

Oh boy.

My mind has been wandering back to Alex and every delectable thing he did to my body last night. I keep remembering how it felt to wake wrapped in his arms and how tender my body still feels after what we…

“You seem distracted,” Andie says, dragging me back to the present and to the class I should be concentrating on.

“Sorry,” I say, my cheeks heating.

“Is that a man who’s put that flush in your cheeks?” she whispers, spinning to face me, her eyes wide.

“I… what makes you say that?”

“Girl, you have a well-loved look on your face. Who is he? How long have you known him? Spill to this single mother. I need to get my kicks from somewhere.”

“Erm… a couple of months,” I admit, knowing I shouldn’t be saying anything, but needing someone to talk to. It’s been three weeks since Alex returned from Paris, and our relationship is intense. We’re trying to keep away from one another during the week, not to blur the lines between work and pleasure, because the pleasure is fierce. My desire is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, but it’s also so much more. I feel connected to him, not in the way I am to my family, but as someone who truly sees me, even though everything he knows about me is a lie. How can that be?

“And?”

I look up to find Andie waiting. “It’s been amazing,” I say, unable to contain my grin.

“What the hell are you doing here then? Why aren’t you with him?”

I sit back. “I, we…”

It’s hard to explain how I work with him every day, how I need space to reset.

She laughs. “It’s okay, I’m teasing. It’s good to have your own space and hobbies.” Her face grows serious. “That’s where my relationship broke down. I let him dictate everything I did, who I spoke to. I didn’t realise what he was doing until it was too late, and I was stuck at home alone, raising two children.”

I lean over and squeeze her forearm. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was young and foolish. He was older, a somebody, while I was a nobody. He was great at keeping secrets… it was a lack of trust that finally had me walking away.”

The word trust burns in my chest.

What would Alex think if he knew the truth about me?

“Hey, that was me, not you.”

I give her a weak smile. “It’s still early days and…”

“You’re just enjoying the sex,” she says, laughing.

I feel my cheeks heat.

“Enjoy yourself. You’re only young once.”

“You’re right,” I say.

At that moment, Debra enters, and we all look up.

“Evening, everyone. I have a surprise for you tonight.” She turns towards the door, an enormous smile on her face. “Let me introduce Elise Brown, creative director at St Clair. One of New York’s most exclusive exports.”

A rush of adrenaline shoots through my system, my breath becoming quick and shallow.

My eyes dart around the room looking for an escape, but there is none.

Fuck!

I drop my head and stare at the table, flinching as Elise speaks.

“Evening, everyone. It’s a pleasure to be here. I’ll be taking you through what it’s like to work for a fashion house like St Clair and career path options.”

“Oh. My. God. St Clair,” Andie squeals next to me. “Her designs are legendary. Not to mention the CEO. He’s hot.”

Double fuck!

I have Andie fangirling not only over Elise but also over Alex. Ground, swallow me up. Not that I can blame her, Alex is hot, and Elise is a truly amazing designer.

“I agree,” I all but croak out, earning myself a frown.

She grips my leg, her excitement palpable.

“They’re coming over,” she hisses between her teeth, her smile wide and welcoming.

I glance up as Debra approaches with Elise in tow.

“This is Andie and Brooke. Brooke is the student I was telling you about.”

“It’s lovely to meet you both,” Elise says.

I smile awkwardly. One she returns, but the look in her eyes lets me know she has questions but is not going to out me.

“Brooke, can I show Elise some of your designs?”

Heat spreads up my neck and into my cheeks, and I resist the urge to cover them with my hands.

“Of course.”

Debra picks up my sketchbook and hands it to Elise.

She flicks through it before looking up and meeting my gaze.

“Brooke, these are really good,” she says before returning her attention to my sketchbook. “Have you thought about your fabric selection, stitching detail, trim?”

Debra laughs as a trail of sweat trickles down my back. Elise holds my gaze. She has questions and will no doubt want answers.

“Elise, I love your enthusiasm,” Debra says, with an awkward giggle. “Give the young woman a chance. We haven’t reached that part in the course yet. Although you can see why I wanted to introduce you.”

“I look forward to seeing how you progress,” Elise says with a smile before handing back my sketchbook.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Brooke, wow, that was the Elise Brown… you should be jumping around in your seat. She loved your designs,” Andie says when Elise and Debra finally move away. “Maybe Elise will offer you an internship at St Clair if she likes your work that much.”

“I’m sure she was just being polite,” I say awkwardly.

Andie scoffs but turns her attention back to her own designs.

No one here knows where I work. They simply know me as the PA. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, which working for one of the major fashion houses whilst studying fashion design was bound to do. Not that I can give them any insight into their creative process, as that’s top secret.

I’m on edge until we’re dismissed.

Elise stays talking to some of the other students as I make my escape.

Mitch is waiting for me in the car.

“How was tonight’s class?”

“It was fine.”

Mitch looks over and raises an eyebrow.

“Fine?”

“I think my cover’s been blown,” I say, making him swerve towards the kerb and slam on the brakes.

“Sorry, not that cover,” I say quickly.

“Shit, H, don’t do that. My brain went instantly to extraction protocol.”

“I have an extraction protocol?”

“What did you think would happen if they found you or your cover was blown?”

“You’d rush in? I wasn’t entirely sure.”

He chuckles.

“We would have,” he says. “But it would have been a little more structured.”

“It’s good to know there’s a plan. It was the only thing I could think about when I first arrived,” I say.

“I’m sorry. It must have been hard.”

But life’s different now, more settled. Brooke is starting to make a life for herself. Having them both in my corner is helping, although I know they’re not thrilled about my relationship with Alex.

“A little. I imagined myself running around in a panic, throwing clothes into a suitcase, calling Kris or my family.”

“Should something happen, there won’t be time for that. You’ll be extracted from wherever you are and moved to a safe house. The rest will come later.”

My heart rate speeds up. I suppose, over time, I’ve pushed the threat to my life and freedom to the back of my mind. I’ve simply been living day to day.

As if sensing my change in mood, Mitch looks across.

“Don’t worry. It’s why we’re here.”

“I appreciate it,” I say.

“You really aren’t what we were expecting,” he says suddenly.

“Dan said the same thing,” I say. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“All good,” he says with a smile.

“You mean, you were expecting a rebellious diva?”

His smile widens. “Something like that.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

We arrive back at the apartment.

“You never did tell me which cover is blown?” Mitch says.

“Elise, the creative director at St Clair, was tonight’s guest industry specialist. No one at St Clair is aware I’m taking this course.”

“Not even Alessandro?”

I drop my gaze.

“It hasn’t come up and…”

“You don’t want him to think you’re only with him because you want to be a designer?”

“Something like that,” I admit.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but don’t you think there are enough untruths between you?”

I harrumph. “That’s a very polite way of saying our entire relationship is based on lies.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, Harper, it’s not. All I’m saying is there are some things you don’t have to lie about.”

I drop my chin to my chest and close my eyes.

“Has there been any news?”

It’s Mitch’s turn to sigh.

“Nothing new. They’re still working through all the documents. If it was as simple as a name, we’d have the bastard.”

“You think it’s one man? A ringleader, kingpin?”

Mitch chuckles. “You’ve been reading too many spy stories.”

I chuckle. “Probably.”

“Whoever he is, he’s a nasty bastard. He’s also good at covering his tracks, but we’ll get him.”

I lean over and squeeze his arm. “I believe you.”

He smiles as we pull up outside the apartment block where we live. “Back to tonight. Do you think Elise will say anything?”

I groan. “More than likely.” I just hope she speaks to me before going to Alex.

“If you want my advice, be honest about why you haven’t said anything.”

I quirk an eyebrow as we make our way inside.

“You know what I mean, as honest as you can be.”

“You’re right,” I say. “How did you get so knowledgeable?” I ask, nudging his shoulder.

Mitch grins as we reach our respective doors. “Years of practice, and two daughters who are both older than you and work hard to keep me on my toes.”

“Good to know. Have a great rest of the week, Mitch. See you at work.”

“You too.”

I let myself into the apartment and drop my bag onto the sofa.

Elise is going to want to speak to me.

What do I say? Our trip to Italy inspired me? Do I admit I started studying design in England? If I do that, she might ask where, and that will open a can of worms.

* * *

“Hey, Alex, Brooke,” Elise says as she approaches my desk, where Alex is standing.

He turns. “Hi, is everything okay?”

“All good,” she says with a smile. “I was wondering if I could borrow Brooke for half an hour?”

“Of course. Is everything okay?”

“Giovanni has sent over some new fabric samples.”

Alex’s brows draw together, and I can hear the unasked question.

Why would Brooke want to see fabric samples?

Elise must also sense the question because she smiles at him.

“I’d really appreciate her opinion. She had a good eye when we were in Italy, and we’re having a debate downstairs.”

My eyes drift between the two of them.

Oh, hell, now Elise is lying for me.

“Brooke?” He turns to me.

“Er, yes. Umm, that would be great,” I say, turning to Elise and smiling.

Which isn’t a lie.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” he says.

“No, I’d love to. It’s just these reports,” I say, motioning to the paperwork piled next to me, most of which is already done.

“Half an hour is not going to derail you,” he says. “Take a break. You deserve it.”

I stand. “If you’re sure.”

“Absolutely.”

I move to forward the desk phone to my mobile.

“Don’t bother, I can answer the phone while you’re gone.”

What?

He smiles. “Go.”

“We’re going,” Elise chuckles. “Come on, take it as a win.”

I grab my bag as I step around my desk.

“I’ll see you in half an hour,” I say as Alex heads towards his office.

He turns. “Don’t panic if it’s longer. I know how these discussions can go, remember.”

He re-enters his office, closing the door behind him.

I stand and stare.

“Come on,” Elise says, tapping my arm.

We make our way downstairs and into her office.

She wasn’t kidding when she said samples had arrived. They’re spread out all over her desk.

“Take a seat,” she says, throwing aside the stack of glossy fashion magazines that was on the chair.

I drop down, clutching my hands together in my lap. She clearly hasn’t outed me yet, but is this a warning that she’s about to do so?

“That was some impressive work I saw last night,” Elise says, staring across her desk at me.

“Er… thank you.”

“Debra has no idea you work here?” she asks.

“Not before last night. Does she now?”

“No,” she says. “I guessed from the look of horror on your face when I walked in, it was a secret you wanted to maintain.”

“Thank you.”

“You never mentioned you were interested in fashion design. Although maybe I should have guessed. You had a natural flair in Italy.”

“Italy sparked my interest. Working here, being surrounded by fashion all day, every day…”

“I get it, I really do. My first weekend job was working in a department store, selling mass-market fashion. I was hooked after a couple of weeks, helping women find the perfect outfit. They moved me to their stylist service within a couple of months. Until that point, I’d been rudderless, about to finish high school with no idea what I wanted to do with my life.”

“I feel at home with clothes and fabrics,” I admit.

“Chrissie said she’s never seen a PA with such great taste. She’s usually forced to coordinate outfits for the secretarial pool.”

“I had Callie,” I say.

She tuts. “Don’t put yourself down. She said that it was all you.”

Sitting back, she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Does Alex know?”

I drop my gaze. “About night school? No.”

“May I ask why?”

Why? Because it’s yet one more lie I’m keeping from him. Because I don’t want Sophia finding out, or Alex thinking I only took this job to fast-track my way into the company.

“I don’t want him to think there’s a conflict of interest, or that I’m unable to do my job because I’m distracted,” I say. “I’m also not sure I’m going to be able to continue, what with work commitments. I’ve already missed a couple of classes because I’ve needed to work late. I’m not sure how I ever thought I’d manage it. I’ve spoken to Debra, and she’s looking into switching me to the online course. I’ll miss Andie, but I’m not sure how else to do it.”

“Are you happy working as a PA?”

I lift my eyes to hers. “I am.”

“You know we offer internships?”

My chest lifts as adrenaline rushes through me.

An internship at St Clair.

Is Elise for real?

“Think about it. If what I saw last night is anything to go on, we’d be lucky to have you.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” I admit.

Why does life have to be so cruel?

Nine months ago, this would have been my dream. I’d have bitten the hand off anyone offering me this kind of opportunity. But right now, I have more than enough to juggle.

“Think about it,” she adds, opening her drawer and pulling out a folder, holding it out towards me.

I take it, opening it.

“It’s a design brief. One we give to our interns. I’d be interested to see what you produce,” she says. “If you do find night classes too much, complete this. I can probably help.”

“But…”

She holds up her hand. “This can be your assignment for my module. You can turn it in when the others hand in their official assignments. I spoke to Debra, and she’s happy for me to give it to you.”

“I’m overwhelmed,” I admit, trying to hold my voice steady.

“Brooke, you clearly have a lot of natural talent. I’d hate to see it wasted. There’s no pressure. I simply want to see what you can do with it.”

I nod. “Okay.”

She grins.

“Great. And Brooke, I won’t say anything to Alex. This can remain between the two of us for now. But I really think you should speak to him. Don’t waste your talent.”

“Thank you,” I say, getting to my feet. “I better get back upstairs.”

“Before you go, I’ll give you one of these.” She hands me one of the team’s design sketchbooks. “As it’s a company design brief, I’d better follow company policy.”

I grin, taking the beautiful sketchbook from her. “Thank you. And thank you again for not saying anything.”

“You’re welcome. Think about what I’ve said.”

I nod before turning and letting myself out, heading to the elevator.

Alex’s door is still closed when I get back.

I open my drawer and pull out a new file, writing Brooke Notes across the top, before sliding the brief and sketchbook inside.

CHAPTER 59

ALEX

“Brooke?”

She jumps, as if drawn back into the present.

She looks up, her green eyes slightly dazed.

“Brooke, are you okay? I’ve called your name about five times.”

She blinks.

“Sorry, I was miles away,” she says with a smile.

I continue to stare at her, and she sighs.

“Honestly, I’m fine. I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

I raise an eyebrow. We don’t spend our weeknights together, giving each other space. Not that I want that, but I don’t want to crowd her.

She sits back in her chair. “One of the neighbours was having a party,” she says, her hand twisting her necklace. “I woke up on the sofa at three.”

“Therein lies your problem,” I say, with a perfectly straight face. “If you’d been at mine…”

She opens her eyes wide and stares at me.

My lips twitch. I know we’ve agreed not to talk about our relationship in the office, but seeing her out of sorts, I need to know I’m not the only one who’s caught up in this.

She smirks.

“Miss me?” she says, inclining her head.

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll see you later.”

It’s our code for her coming over tonight after work. It’s the start of the weekend, and I’ve been counting down since Monday.

She rubs her neck.

“I’ll give you a massage later. Work out some of those knots.”

“I think David might have something to say about that,” a voice says from behind me.

I spin to find Callie pushing a pram towards us, her eyes flicking between Brooke and me.

I turn back to Brooke, who’s doing a great impression of a horrified goldfish.

“Callie,” she says, jumping up and making her way around the desk, pulling her in for a hug. “You should have let us know you were coming.”

Callie lets out a bark of laughter. “What, and miss out on the salacious gossip I’ve just overheard? Not a chance.”

She turns to me. “Now, now.”

“You better get in my office,” I say, looking over her shoulder. She might be smiling, but Brooke won’t be if anyone else overhears.

“I’ll get you a drink,” Brooke announces. “Then I want a cuddle.”

Callie grins. “Fennel, please.”

“One fennel tea coming up. Alex?”

“Usual, please.”

I hold open the door as Callie pushes a sleeping Logan into my office. It’s been three months since his birth, and she’s glowing. Motherhood is good for her.

“You and Brooke, huh? Actually, together now?”

“Brooke and me,” I say, knowing there’s no point in denying it, not to Callie.

“You don’t seem surprised?”

She stares at me and inclines her head. “No. I could see the sparks from the moment you two met.”

I quirk a brow.

“A woman’s intuition,” she says. “I’m just surprised you’ve acted on it.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“People know?”

“I’ll amend that. Enzo said the same thing.”

“That should tell you something,” she says with a smirk.

I frown.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are a stickler for the rules. You keep tight control over your emotions, your business and your personal life. Brooke is younger, your subordinate.”

I sink into my chair.

“Are you going to lecture me on how wrong it is that I’ve got involved with her?”

“Should I be?” she asks, inclining her head. “Let me ask you this, are you happy?”

I nod.

“Then no. You deserve to be happy, Alex. The other things don’t matter.”

A knock sounds, and Brooke enters.

She looks in, uncertainty in her eyes.

“Come in,” I say, motioning to the chair next to Callie.

“Just like old times,” Callie says with a smile.

I remember Brooke sitting silently next to Callie as we went through the day’s tasks, taking copious notes.

“How are you?” Brooke asks, pulling me back into the present. “Motherhood suits you.”

“I think so. I thought I’d be bored, but… I’m loving every moment, even the sleepless nights.”

“And David?” I ask.

“Logan has his daddy jumping through hoops. He’s even getting up and doing the three AM feed.”

“That’s why he’s been blowing the boys off,” I say.

“Needs his beauty sleep when he can,” she adds, but knowing my friend, I’m sure he’s loving every minute of his parental duties.

Logan starts to grizzle in his pram.

Brooke is up and staring down at him, her face filled with wonder.

“He’s gorgeous,” she says.

“You can get him out and have a cuddle if you want,” Callie says.

Brooke’s face is a picture as she grins and stoops, scooping him up, cradling him against her chest.

“Hello, gorgeous boy,” she says, her eyes never leaving his face as he blinks up at her.

“Would you like to give him a bottle? He’s a hungry devil, and I’m having to substitute some of his feeds.”

“Really?” Brooke asks.

“Please. He’s fussy when I try to give him anything other than breast milk.”

“My sister-in-law had the same issue. My brothers would fight over who was going to feed him,” she says, offering more insight into her family life.

She takes a seat as Callie undoes a bottle carrier and hands her the bottle.

I watch in fascination as she feeds Logan like an expert.

“You look like you’ve had practice,” Callie says.

“A little,” she says, keeping her focus on the baby in her arms, cooing until he’s done. She drapes a linen cloth over her shoulder, settles him against it and rubs circles on his back. He snuggles in, letting out a tiny belch.

My chest constricts.

“Oh wow, I need you at two a.m.,” Callie says, her eyes never leaving Brooke and her son.

“He’s adorable,” Brooke says, moving him away and handing him back to Callie. “I’d better get back to work. Those reports on my desk need to be out by the end of the day.”

I want to tell her she doesn’t have to, but that’s not true. We’ve also talked about life in and out of the office.

“It was lovely to see you, Brooke.”

“You, too.”

She leaves us, closing the door behind her.

Callie turns, and I can’t miss the look in her eyes.

“This isn’t just a social call,” I say. “You’re here to hand in your resignation.”

“You always could read me.”

“Motherhood looks good on you.”

“Thank you.”

“Your health?”

“All back to normal. Although I’ll have to watch out if we’re blessed with another.”

“Already?”

Callie shakes her head. “Not just yet, but we won’t wait long. This little button was a miracle. There are no guarantees, and I’m not getting any younger.”

“Callie…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll not say anything,” she says. “But I’m worried about the perceptiveness of everyone working here if they haven’t noticed. The way you look at her… the way she looks at you.”

I open my mouth.

“Alex, be careful. I love Brooke. She seems like a lovely woman, but she’s not from here. She may want to go home at some point. She clearly has a family. Be prepared for that.”

I can’t pretend it’s not something I’ve thought about.

If Brooke leaves, it’s not like I, as CEO, can up sticks and move St Clair’s headquarters to London. And the more we talk, the more she lets slip about her life and family. It’s clearly a complex situation. I just hope when she’s ready, she’ll trust me with what happened.

“I know,” I say, running a hand through my hair.

She shoots me a look. “Do you?”

Her expression is caught somewhere between sympathy and maybe you’ve got this.

“Only time will tell, but I can’t change the way I feel.”

She smiles, this one reaching her eyes. “The guys are going to be made up,” she says, changing the subject. “Dante has placed a bet on how long it would take for you and Brooke to get together.”

“I’m going to kill him,” I say, rolling my eyes. “How do you know?”

“David, of course. He and Dante are the only ones who’ve met Brooke. They’ve been arguing about it, especially since you’ve been absent from boys’ nights.”

“I’ve been busy.”

She winks. “I can see.”

CHAPTER 60

ALEX

Brooke is waiting for me at my apartment, a common occurrence over the weekend.

“Hey,” I say, walking into the living room and finding her curled up reading on one of the couches.

She looks up and grins as I drop a kiss on her lips. “I wasn’t expecting you until later,” she says. “How were Dante and Leo?”

I’d had a call from the guys asking me to meet them for a drink.

“They’re fine, just wanted to talk guy stuff.”

They wanted to talk about Brooke, Callie clearly having told David, who had passed the news to the rest of them.

“Now I’m here, I really don’t want to talk about my friends.”

Our mouths meet, and the stress of the day melts away. She feels like home.

I pull back. “I need to grab a shower,” I say. “Then I want to spend some time with you.”

“I’ve been sitting outside your office door, and you’ve seen me at least once every hour. Not to mention the time we spent with Callie.”

“It’s not the same at work.” I harrumph.

Her smile freezes. “Do you think she was really all right with finding out about us?”

“Callie? One thing I’ve learned over the years is that she tells it like it is. If she was unhappy, I would have known, even if she said nothing to you.”

No one was more surprised than I was that she’d been on board. She knows how badly I fell apart after Loretta left and has been very protective when it comes to the women in my life.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” I say, shrugging out of my suit jacket and starting on the buttons of my shirt.

Brooke licks her lips. “Want some company?”

“Absolutely,” I say, scooping her up and swinging her over my shoulder before heading for the stairs.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she says, laughing against my back.

* * *

“I have a surprise,” I say later, collapsing back on the bed, pulling her against me.

“A surprise?” Brooke says, rolling onto her stomach, her head resting on her hands.

“We’re going on a date,” I say.

Her expression falls.

“Alex,” she says.

“Don’t panic, not a public one. Well, at least not in the sense that anyone will see us.”

She inclines her head, her lips tilting.

I have her.

“I don’t understand,” she says.

“You will,” I say. “Tomorrow night, dress for comfort and pack an overnight bag.”

* * *

“Alessandro, what are we doing here?” she says, turning to stare at me. Her eyes are full of questions.

I press a kiss to her open mouth, silencing her.

“A little bird once told me about her favourite movie and how she wanted to do a night tour. Gabbi told me you didn’t make it at Christmas, so… Welcome to the American Museum of Natural History, Brooke,” I say.

“But…”

I place a finger over her lips. “No need for buts. It’s just us and museum security. No one else knows we’re here.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means what I said. I’ve booked us our own Night at the Museum tour.”

She gasps, her eyes glistening.

I smile.

“I can’t believe you remembered,” she says.

“I did,” I say, interlinking our fingers. “I can’t guarantee any of the exhibits will come to life, but I can promise a night of exploring the exhibits and sleeping under the blue whale.”

She looks at me and bites her bottom lip. “I…”

I squeeze her hand, pulling her into my side, as we enter through the side door and are greeted by the manager, a man I’ve had many conversations with over the past couple of days.

“Mr Bianchi, Ms Feldmann. Welcome to the American Museum of Natural History,” he says before stepping back and allowing us to enter. “Everything is prepared for you.”

CHAPTER 61

HARPER

“This is amazing,” I say as we visit yet another exhibit. “Being here at night. You’d think it would be creepy, but the silence. Being able to simply be…”

I stop myself. I’ve never done anything like this. Despite all our wealth, I’ve never had somewhere like this entirely to myself before, it’s an adrenaline rush.

“This way,” Alex says, with a smile.

Butterflies flutter in my chest as he clasps my hand in his, and I love the fact that we can hold hands and kiss with no fear of being exposed. Yes, there are security cameras, but Alex has promised me that all staff have signed NDAs, offering us a level of privacy only money can buy, and I find myself touched that he has done this for us… for me.

We turn the corner.

“Alessandro,” I cry, moving towards the intimate picnic that someone has laid out on the floor.

“Your dining companions await,” he says with a grin, as I spin on the spot, taking in the dinosaur skeletons surrounding us.

“I can’t believe you’ve done all this,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and placing my lips against his.

He pulls me against him, my curves moulding to his hardness, a sensation I’m getting used to. That’s when I realise this is the most relaxed I’ve been since we met, at least outside of my apartment or his.

“Thank you,” I say.

He leads me to one of the closest exhibits.

“And?”

I grin, reeling off facts and figures about the skeleton and its time on Earth.

I glance up at him, heat flooding my cheeks. His eyes sparkle as I talk.

“Sorry. Book nerd. I loved dinosaurs as a kid. Would bore the pants off my brothers and sister,” I admit.

“Don’t apologise, it’s cute,” he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder before pulling me into his side and whispering in my ear. “And I admit, I was a bit of a dinosaur nerd myself. That and the stars and solar system.”

I rest my head against his shoulder, enjoying the banter and companionship. Since we started this, life has changed. I’m no longer the homesick woman I was. Instead, I’m embracing each day, enjoying every moment we’re together and even the time we spend apart, because the distance builds anticipation.

I look up to find Alex staring down at me.

“You amaze me,” he says, dropping a kiss on my nose.

My heart stutters in my chest at the look in his eyes.

He’s not the only one.

“Let’s eat,” he says, breaking the moment and moving us to the picnic blanket and feast. “Champagne?”

* * *

After we’ve finished, I drop back and stare up at the enormous ceiling.

“Magical,” I say, turning towards the wonderful man beside me. “Thank you, Alex. I’ll never forget tonight.”

I know whatever the future holds, this is a memory I will cherish for the rest of my life.

“It’s not over yet. We still have a night sleeping under a blue whale,” he says, jumping up and holding out a hand.

I sit up and grin. “I thought you were kidding?”

He shakes his head, his expression growing serious and his voice solemn, although his eyes are full of mirth.

“Really? We’re doing this?”

I take his outstretched hand, allowing him to pull me up.

“Would I kid about something as important as sleeping under the blue whale?”

* * *

Sleeping on a camp bed in the middle of a draughty old museum is not for the faint of heart. Maybe it would have been fine when I was ten, but at twenty-four…

“Are you asleep?” A whispered voice breaks through my thoughts.

“No,” I whisper back. “Want to snuggle?”

Alex laughs.

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s just the way you said snuggle.”

“Don’t knock it, buster. I like to snuggle, and I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”

“I’ll never complain. I love having you snuggled up against me.”

Something deep in my chest shifts. Alex loves sex, and he’s not the only one. I’m fast becoming addicted… although it’s only with this man. But there’s something more. It’s the connectedness, the closeness when we’re together.

I hear him unzip his sleeping bag and can’t resist. Dragging myself out of my own, I pad over to where he’s lying. He grins up at me as I slide in next to him, pressing myself against his hard body as he re-zips the bag behind me. It’s a tight fit, but who am I to complain as his arms wrap around me?

“Is that better?” he whispers against my hair.

“Much,” I say, snuggling against his chest and hooking one leg over his.

He stifles a moan, but I feel it rumble through his chest.

“Sorry,” I say, tipping my head back and glancing up at him, his cock hardening between us.

“Don’t be, just don’t wriggle too much,” he moans. “He’s used to having you whenever he wants outside the office.”

I laugh, but my body sings with awareness and desire.

“I can’t believe you organised all this,” I say, placing my lips against his throat. “This has been…”

“Do you want to stay or go?” he asks suddenly.

“I want to go, but only because I can’t be here with you and not show you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me tonight…”

My voice catches, and he pulls me closer before unzipping the sleeping bag.

We roll ourselves out and gather our things in record time.

When we approach the security station, a guard is playing on his phone.

“Is everything okay, Mr Bianchi?” he asks, his voice full of concern.

“Everything has been perfect,” I say, shooting him my warmest smile.

“Sleeping on camp beds when you’re ten is fine. However…” He leaves the rest of the sentence hanging, but the guard grins and nods.

“Say no more, sir. Can I call you a cab?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

The cab arrives in record time, which is not surprising at three a.m.

We enter the apartment, and within seconds I’m exactly where I want to be, in Alex’s arms. Our lips touch, but it’s different. This time when he enters me, it’s not fast and furious. It’s slow and controlled as he takes me to new heights, making every touch feel deeper, more meaningful. By the time he thrusts into my body, he’s worshipped every inch of me, and I’ve worshipped every inch of him. The connection between us has changed, and something tells me it will never be quite the same again.

CHAPTER 62

ALEX

When life appears too good to be true, it usually is.

For the first time in too long, my life is angst-free.

Since our date, my relationship with Brooke has moved to another level. Work is running smoothly, even Mother seems to have taken a step back.

I think of the woman sitting outside my office. She intrigues me… more than any woman I’ve met in a long time. Yet my heart and mind are in a constant battle. She’s intelligent and passionate, but I sense she’s holding part of herself back.

Fuck!

My protective instincts are in overdrive. Enzo told me not to overthink it, let her come to me. Yet here I am, overthinking everything, wanting her to let me in and allow me to support her.

There’s a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I say.

The door opens, and Elise pokes her head in.

“Do you have a moment? Brooke isn’t at her desk,” she asks.

“Of course.” I stand and motion her forward. “Come in. Brooke has popped out.”

I don’t tell Elise that Brooke’s gone to the doctor to talk to them about birth control after a near miss with a condom.

She opens the door wider, allowing Teresa to step through. My scalp prickles at the look on their faces.

Elise closes the door, and they both move forward.

“We have a problem,” Teresa says.

Not words I want to hear on a Monday morning.

* * *

The past week has been a blur.

After Elise and Teresa dropped the bombshell that some of the designs from our new spring/summer collection have been stolen and picked up by another house, our legal team has been working overtime. Temporary restraining orders have been issued in federal court, along with a host of cease-and-desist letters. But the fact of the matter is we’re no closer to understanding who did this.

St Clair is on lockdown. File access is restricted. No phones or cameras are allowed on-site, with everyone checking them in at the door. We’re back to using our old-fashioned telephone system and walking to speak to those we need to.

“You have my word,” I say, earning myself a grunt.

“I’ll wait to hear from you.”

The call ends and I refrain from throwing my phone across the room.

“Shit!” I say, running a hand through my hair. Another luxury department store, threatening to cancel its seasonal order. I’ve promised them that whatever collection we release, it will retain St Clair’s exclusivity and value. A promise I can only hope to keep, as we still don’t know where the leak originated.

“Kristophe Lansdown is here to see you,” Brooke says, popping her head around the door. Her brow furrows as she takes in my expression. “Is everything…”

I force a smile.

“Thanks, Brooke. Send him in.”

She lets it drop, stepping back.

Kris enters, his hand outstretched. “It’s been a while,” he says.

“Thanks for coming. I wish it were under better circumstances,” I say, shaking his hand and motioning for him to take a seat.

“Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Your PA’s on it. Coffee and cake, apparently,” he says with a smile. “She seems nice, organised.”

“She is. She’s been a godsend since Callie went on maternity leave.”

“A baby boy, wasn’t it?”

“Logan.”

Although Kris is a couple of years older than us, we’ve shared the same social circle and attended charity events together.

Brooke knocks and enters, carrying two coffees and two plates of her latest creation. She baked this one in my kitchen. Despite it being a weeknight, she agreed to stay over because of my stress levels.

“Thanks,” he says, shooting her a smile that she returns, setting my teeth on edge.

“You’re welcome.”

Brooke leaves us.

“Small talk isn’t why you’re here. Have your team uncovered anything?”

“I’ve got my top digital forensics team on it. They’ve been following digital breadcrumbs.”

“Have they found anything?”

“We’ve extracted metadata and digital watermarks and audited identity and access-management logs.”

“And?” I ask, my heart rate picking up.

“Nothing. It’s clean.”

“It can’t be.”

“Whoever did this is smart. They knew what we’d be looking for.”

“Fuck.” I run a hand down my face.

It’s looking more like an inside job, but who?

“If I had to hazard a guess, the designs have been stolen the old-fashioned way. Photographs on a burner phone, sketches of the individual designs and flats that have then been reproduced.”

“What about a timeline reconstruction, anomalous behaviour detection?” I say, knowing I’m grasping at straws. “Aren’t those things you can investigate?”

Kris shakes his head. “Believe me, we’ve tried. However, your team are a close-knit bunch, and we don’t know at what stage these designs were taken. Everyone within the department has access to all the designs…”

“Not for much longer,” I say, dropping back and expelling my breath with a huff.

“What do you know about the stolen designs? Maybe we can start there.”

“The designs weren’t patented yet, so we have no recourse under the garment silhouette protection. And as they haven’t been released by us, we can’t prove secondary meaning. The only recourse we’ve got is to find out which bastard leaked this. Every member of this company signs an NDA. I need to know who and get them out of my company.”

“Then I suggest you look for someone with an axe to grind, a disgruntled employee, maybe a new member of staff who may have had access to the designs and could be a plant.”

“Thanks, Kris, I appreciate it.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t be more help. I’ll send over the timeline reconstruction and anomalous behaviour detection reports. Maybe you, Elise, and Teresa will see something out of the ordinary.”

I nod.

* * *

The smaller fashion houses involved deny all knowledge of the breach, but the date and timestamps on our original design sketches and records speak volumes. They may have entered the designs into their own CAD systems, but ours have earlier timestamps, so the cease-and-desist letters are working. No one wants to go up against us. The fashion houses involved have apologised profusely, insisting they received the designs in good faith and will not be proceeding with any of them. The frustrating part is that we’re no closer to working out who is responsible for the breach.

Elise sits opposite me, dark circles under her eyes, her shoulders drooping.

“Could it be someone within your department?” I ask.

“In all honesty, I don’t know anymore.” She releases an audible breath. After another long day, her pained expression is impossible to miss. “I’ve spent so much time looking at everyone, the access logs and reports Lansdown’s team produced, wondering who it could be. But Alex, these are my friends, people I’ve worked with for years. We all have access to the designs. We’re a team. You remember what it was like. We support each other. Everyone chips in. It’s why our designs are so strong. I just don’t see how it can be one of them.”

I grip the back of my neck and massage the tight muscles, not wanting to disparage her idealistic notion, but these people aren’t her friends. They’re her colleagues, acquaintances at best, and one of them is potentially selling us out.

There’s a knock on the door. My mother enters, not waiting for an invitation. Brooke is hot on her heels.

She shoots me an apologetic look.

“Mother?”

“This is bad. Why wasn’t I informed earlier?” she says. “Morning, Elise,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.

“Morning, Mrs Bianchi,” Elise replies, shooting me a questioning look.

I shake my head. No, I don’t want her to leave. We still have things to discuss.

I draw in a breath.

“Because there’s nothing you can or could have done. Kris had his best people on it,” I say, trying to keep a lid on my temper, already regretting how much I shared with her after she confronted me. “As I told you last night. We’re following the necessary protocols. The lawyers are on it, and an internal investigation is underway. The designs themselves have been frozen.”

I should probably have told her when I first found out, but the last thing I need is her sticking her nose in, trying to help.

“An extra pair of hands,” she says. “I don’t take kindly to hearing that the company is under attack from a client; I expect to hear that kind of news from my son.”

“As I said, it’s been a little crazy around here. And extra hands are unnecessary. We’re limiting the investigation to a need-to-know basis until we find out who is behind this. I’m working closely with Elise and Teresa to…”

“But what if it’s one of them?” she asks, firing a look of apology at Elise. “It’s better to keep this in the family. Enzo can come. He can help.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, counting to ten.

“Mother, I have it under control. Elise and I…”

She sniffs in displeasure, but I ignore it.

“It’s clear I’m not needed. Maybe I’ll go and speak to Brooke,” she says, moving towards the door. “See if she can give me more insight.”

My hackles rise. “Leave Brooke alone. She’s my PA, not a gossip columnist.”

Or at least I hope she isn’t. My early concerns about her relationship with my mother raise their ugly heads, but I push them to one side.

My mother turns, her brows rising.

I close my eyes for a second and centre myself.

“What I mean is, we both have a lot of work to do. Just because this has happened, it doesn’t mean the day-to-day running of the company has stopped. Don’t make me regret having told you.”

She harrumphs this time, her hand going to the door handle.

“Not that you had a choice… well…”

“Well, nothing, Mother. Go home. I’ve got this under control. I’ll let you know as soon as anything changes.”

CHAPTER 63

HARPER

Ienter Alex’s penthouse to the sound of a ringing phone. After Kat’s illness, I began taking it everywhere with me, but with the new protocols in place at St Clair, all personal mobiles are banned on-site until further notice, so it has to stay at home.

I snatch it up.

“Hi,” I say breathlessly.

“Rebel.” Kat’s voice comes over the phone.

“Hey, sis. How are you and Jax?” I say, unable to keep the mischief from my voice. The fact that my sister has finally opened herself up to Jax is fantastic news. He’s always been like another brother after spending so much time at our house while I was growing up.

“I have some news,” she says. “We’ve set the date.”

I squeal, making her laugh, and I’m glad Alex is still at the office.

“There’s been a cancellation at the venue.”

“You mean the hotel in the Maldives?” I say. “That’s fantastic. When?”

“Three weeks.”

My heart sinks.

“Kat…”

“Before you say anything, Pen and Elijah have been working on the logistics. With Kris in attendance, we have the perfect cover to get you in and out. Although from the way the investigation is going, it may be unnecessary,” she says, her excitement very un-Kat-like.

“I…” My eyes fill with tears, my throat clogging. The thought of being with my family after seven months.

“Harps.” Kat’s voice catches, and my phone beeps as she switches me to a video call, her fingers touching the screen. I mirror the movement.

“The staff at the resort are all under legal contract, as with all Frazer hotels. We’re even chartering the seaplanes to fly the guests out, employing our own pilots. Your identity will not be compromised, I promise.”

Her excitement is palpable, and the thought of seeing her and the rest of my family…

“Rebel, I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought you’d be in any danger, you know that.”

“I do.” I sigh. “Are they any closer? Everything seems to have gone silent.”

“Pen can’t say much, but I do know she and Elijah have been kicking up a storm this end. The good news is they’ve finally uncovered some photographs from that night. It’s hard to believe that, despite only seven years having passed, the investigation has been much more difficult than anyone anticipated. People have changed or deleted their accounts.”

“I suppose they can’t simply ask to see photos. Too many questions would be asked,” I say. “I’ll speak to Dan and Mitch, see if they’ve heard anything.”

“So can you come?”

I drop back against the sofa and exhale loudly.

“I’ll come,” I say. “I can’t not be there to see my big sister marry the love of her life. I also need to check Jaxson is sure he knows what he’s doing.”

“I definitely do,” Jax’s voice comes over the line, his face popping onto the corner of the screen. “I’m champing at the bit to make an honest woman of her.”

“TMI,” I say, chuckling. “I shall definitely be there to cheer you both on.”

“Speaking of Pen, how is baby Amelia doing? Sounds like you had a busy afternoon.”

“She’s amazing. Pen is a natural, and Elijah is a gooey mess with regard to his second daughter. Lottie, well, I’m sure you can imagine how taken Lottie is with her baby sister.”

I grin, but my eyes burn. I’d been here, set to join in the baby shower festivities remotely, when Pen had gone into labour. Baby Amelia arrived a little earlier than expected. What with the birth of the twins and now Amelia, I’m missing so much.

Kat’s face takes on a serious expression. “We’ll get you home, Harps. I promise. And when we do, this will all seem like a bad dream.”

“I know,” I sniff. “It’s just… I miss you all so much.”

Today, more than most. The relaxed atmosphere at St Clair is gone. Everyone is looking at everyone else with suspicion.

“We’ll get you to the wedding,” Kat says firmly, making me smile.

One thing I know about my sister is that when she sets her mind to something, it will happen.

“I can’t wait,” I say.

“Me neither, little sis.”

“I still can’t believe you’re marrying Jaxson,” I tease. “All those years of hating him.”

She grimaces.

“I don’t think I ever hated him. I felt too much, and that was the problem. When I thought he’d betrayed me… that nearly broke me.”

“More than Zach?” I ask.

She smiles. “My relationship with Zach was and continues to be, complicated. His lies and deceit were soul-destroying. I lived with a man who lied to my face and to my family every day we were together. But things happen for a reason. I’ll always believe that.”

“You’re sounding more and more like Mum,” I say.

“Heaven help me,” she says. “But I think there’s something in it. What doesn’t break us makes us stronger.”

“I’m holding you to that,” I say.

“You are strong, little sis, stronger than all of us.”

“I don’t feel it,” I admit.

“Maybe not, but look at you… You could have broken, but no, you’ve got a job. You look like you’re thriving.”

“I wouldn’t say thriving, but I’m enjoying the anonymity,” I admit. “And people here, they like me for me, not because of my last name.”

Kat shakes her head and laughs.

“Everyone has always loved you,” she says. “You’re a very lovable person.”

I harrumph.

“You would say that,” I tell her. “You’re my sister. You’re biased.”

“Somehow, I don’t think anything I say will make you see it, but just know, you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. You’re a good person, little sis.”

I stare at her for a moment. All those years of rebelling, of driving my siblings and mother crazy with my antics.

Kat smiles as if reading my mind.

“Kris will be in contact about wedding travel plans.”

I hear the elevator.

“I have to go,” I say quickly. “Love you both.”

“Who were you talking to?”

“A friend and her fiancé. They’re getting married. She was inviting me to her wedding,” I say, not wanting to risk Kat and Jaxson’s wedding being leaked to the press, and Alex putting two and two together.

He smiles, but it’s hollow. There’s no mistaking the dark circles under his eyes.

“That’s great news. Are you going to go?”

“I’d like to… You look tired. Any news?”

He sinks down onto the sofa next to me, pulling me into his arms, and I force my muscles to relax.

Shit, why did I lie? Why didn’t I tell him it’s my sister’s wedding? This is the problem when things are sprung on me… too many lies to keep up.

“Nothing. Whoever it is, he or she has covered their tracks well.”

I lift his hand and press my lips into his palm.

“You’ll catch them. I have every faith.”

The same way, I can only hope and pray that The Seamstress and her team can catch the man who murdered my father and who appears set on ruining my life.

I look up at the man next to me and realise he has fallen asleep, his head tipped back, his eyes closed and his breathing soft and gentle. I go to move, but his grip tightens. That’s when I realise that whoever murdered my father has failed. My life is pretty damn amazing, and I intend to keep it that way. I just have to hope that when the truth finally comes out, this wonderful man next to me understands.

CHAPTER 64

HARPER

The next three weeks fly by in a blur of excitement and anticipation. My big sister is getting married, and I’m going to be there.

“Are you all set?”

“I am,” I say. “My clothes are packed. I just need to add my wash bag.”

He drops a kiss on my nose.

“It’s going to be strange seeing people after eight months,” I say.

“You’re going to have a lot to talk about,” he says, his hands resting on my waist.

“Hmm,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck, my nails grazing the short hair at his nape. “I’m going to miss you.”

Pulling me against him, he smiles. “You’ll be too caught up in the moment to miss me.”

I grunt.

“And you’ll be too busy trying to catch a thief to miss me.”

For the past three weeks, since news of the stolen designs broke, Alex has been firefighting.

Lawsuits, cease-and-desist orders, major buyers threatening to pull out. It’s been one thing after another, as he and the legal team have worked to recover some of the financial losses and protect the brand’s reputation.

He groans. “I’m sorry, these past few weeks…”

I cup his cheek. “Hey, relationships aren’t only about the good times, and remember I’m only a phone call away.”

He rests his forehead against mine.

“What time is your flight?”

“Tomorrow morning at ten.”

“I have plenty of time to show you how much I’m going to miss you,” he says, his mouth descending on mine.

* * *

I awaken with a start.

“Oh, shit.”

Flying out of bed, I barely make it to the bathroom before the contents of my stomach come back up.

I retch and retch until it feels impossible to retch anymore.

Fuck.

Dropping back onto the tiled floor, I lean against the wall.

The light comes on, and Alex appears, squatting down in front of me.

“Brooke?”

I groan, shrinking away from him.

A cool hand rests against my forehead.

“You’re burning up.”

“I ache all over,” I moan.

My stomach cramps, and I quickly realise it’s not only sickness I’m suffering from.

“Out, please,” I groan, dragging myself up off the floor and onto the toilet.

The last thing I want is Alex seeing…

He helps me upright before stepping back.

“I’ll be right outside the door. Call me when you need me,” he says, moving the bathroom bin next to me.

My stomach clenches violently, making me double over and rest my arms on my knees, as my body expels whatever is wrong with me from both ends.

Alex appears moments later, ignoring my protests.

“Remember, relationships aren’t only about the good times,” he says, throwing my earlier words back at me.

I moan, the pain and nausea almost unbearable.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he says, helping me into the shower to clean myself off.

He towels me down, dressing me in fresh sleepwear, before manoeuvring us back into the bedroom and tucking me in.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

I nod.

He returns moments later with a plastic bucket, placing it on the floor next to the bed.

He smooths the hair back from my face.

“My flight,” I moan.

“We’ll see how you are in the morning,” he says.

He doesn’t verbalise what we’re both thinking, that in my current state, there’s no way I’m getting on a plane anytime soon.

* * *

My hand shakes as I hold the phone.

“Hey, rebel,” Kat says, her face appearing on my screen. “Where are you? You’re missing spa time.”

Her eyes meet mine through the screen.

“What’s up? You look shocking.”

“Food poisoning,” I groan. “Or a stomach bug.”

My stomach heaves, and I drop the phone, barely making it into the bathroom before the water Alex gave me makes a reappearance.

I return and pick up the phone, knowing how shocking I must look.

“Oh, Rebs,” she says.

I choke down my sob.

“I’m not going to make it,” I say, unable to prevent the tears streaming down my face. “There’s no way I could get on the flight… oh, Kat, I’m so sorry.”

Kat’s eyes glisten, and she bites her lip.

Pen appears.

“Hey, Harps. No tears,” she says sternly. “Elijah and I will set you up with a live stream for the wedding. You can spend whatever time you can with us from the comfort of your bed. You won’t miss a thing… apart from the humidity maybe, I promise.”

I sob out a “Thank you.”

“Now get to a doctor. I don’t mean to be rude, but you look terrible.”

Kat comes back onto the screen, her fingers reaching towards me.

“Feel better. I’ll stream you in when I’m getting ready. Make sure you don’t miss a second.”

“Love you, sis,” I say.

“Love you more. Now do what Pen says.”

I disconnect, dropping back on the bed. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this pathetic or weak in my life. The constant vomiting and diarrhoea have left me with bruised ribs and a tender stomach. Even on a private jet, I’d struggle. The mere thought is more than I can take.

Alex returns with another rehydration drink in hand and some dry toast.

“How are you feeling?”

“Terrible.” I groan.

“If it makes you feel any better, it looks like a number of staff members have come down with norovirus.”

“Noro-what?”

“Norovirus, a highly contagious stomach bug.”

I drop back against the pillow.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“What are you sorry about?”

“I’ve probably given it to you.”

“If you have, you have. No point worrying about it.”

He places the plate and the drink on the table next to the bed.

“Try to eat something. On the bright side, if it is norovirus, it usually lasts one to three days.”

“Great, a positive,” I say with a groan.

“Rest up and shout if you need me. I’m going to work in my office,” he says, dropping a kiss on my forehead.

“Thanks,” I say.

My chest constricts at his thoughtfulness. No one apart from Mum has cared for me the way this man has in the past forty-eight hours.

He smiles. “Rest up.”

CHAPTER 65

ALEX

Brooke attends her friend’s wedding remotely, and I give her space.

She offered to leave the apartment and return to her own, but she’s in no fit state to move, and I’d rather have her where I can check she’s okay.

It turns out that about twenty members of staff went down with norovirus over the weekend. They had all been in the same meeting room. Brooke had gone in afterwards to collect some papers I’d requested, which is presumably where she contracted it.

That space has now been deep cleaned.

* * *

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

She smiles as she makes her way downstairs.

“Better, although it feels as if my stomach has been punched multiple times,” she says, her hand resting just below her ribcage.

“And the wedding?”

“It was beautiful. The bride looked stunning. I’m glad I could be a part of it, even from a distance.”

Her eyes glisten, and I know how much it hurts that she was unable to attend.

Getting up, I move towards her, and she steps into my arms without a second thought.

“Thank you,” she mutters against my shoulder.

“No thanks necessary. I’m just glad I was here to help.”

“I don’t mean just about that. For giving me space today.”

I clasp her chin between my thumb and forefinger, making her look up.

“When you are ready to tell everyone about me, then you can. I agree a wedding is probably not the best place.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

I lean in and drop a kiss on her forehead.

“Do you want some dinner?”

“Despite the heat, I fancy some porridge.”

I smile.

“Your wish is my command.”

I take her hand and lead her into the kitchen. I sit her down at the island before opening the cupboard.

“I can do it,” she says.

I raise an eyebrow. “No offence, beautiful…”

She holds up a hand and gives me a lopsided grin. “Fine, I’ll admit defeat,” she says. “I appreciate it.”

I grab the oats and milk and set about making porridge on the cooktop.

“Any news?” she asks, watching me stir the mixture as it heats.

I’ve been on conference calls all day.

I shake my head. “We’ve decided Elise is heading off to Milan and then Paris solo, for the menswear fashion weeks.”

“You’re no longer going?”

“I’m needed here. With everything that’s going on.”

The frustration is starting to get to me as we’re still no closer to tracking down the bastard responsible, and I spent half the night awake wondering who on our team is selling us out.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

Dishing up the porridge, I pass her a bowl and spoon.

“It is what it is,” I say, not wanting to relay my inner anguish. “We just need to find this person.”

“You will. I have every faith.”

I wish I felt as confident. Whoever is selling our designs knows what they’re doing and is covering their tracks. Like Elise, I hate the fact that I’m looking around constantly, wondering who our snake in the grass is.

* * *

I look up as Brooke enters my office, lunch in hand.

“Here you go,” she says, placing it on my desk.

“You not eating?”

She shakes her head, her nose wrinkling.

“Are you okay?”

“My stomach’s still feeling a little tender today. I’m sure it’s just a knock-on effect of the norovirus.”

I frown.

“It’s been a couple of weeks,” I say.

“Apparently I might be tender for a while.”

“If you need to see a doctor, make an appointment.”

She grins. “Yes, boss.”

“If you want something bland, I’m sure Monty will make you something. You seem to have that man wrapped around your little finger,” I say.

Monty, not far off retirement, treats Brooke like a granddaughter.

Her eyes sparkle, and I’m glad to see some of her usual sassiness returning.

“I will if I get hungry later. In the meantime, this is yours. Stop and eat it.”

* * *

When Brooke is sick again the next morning, I decide enough is enough.

“I’ve made you an appointment with my primary care physician.”

“I don’t need to see a GP. I’m fine. I’m sure it’s just my stomach being overly sensitive.”

“Don’t argue with me. Go and see him. If it’s nothing, then that’s fine, but you may need something to help settle your stomach. You’ve lost a fair bit of weight since you had norovirus.”

“Did your mother never tell you it’s rude to comment on a woman’s weight?”

I pull her into my arms. “She did, but when it’s the woman I care about, then I’m not going to beat around the bush. Get checked out, if for no other reason than to put my mind at rest.”

I drop a kiss on her lips. “Humour me, please.”

Her lips turn up in a smile against mine.

“If it will make you feel better.”

“I’m hoping it will make you feel better.”

Keith drops her off at the private practice I use on the way to the office.

She leans over.

“I’ll see you later,” she says, placing her lips against mine.

“Only if he says you’re okay to come into work.”

She rolls her eyes as she gets out of the car.

I’m pleased she’s agreed to go to the doctor. I wasn’t joking when I said she’d lost weight since she had the gastro bug. She’s also tired, still suffering from cramps and is turned off by food she previously loved.

* * *

Keith drops me off.

“Shall I collect Ms Brooke?” he asks.

“You can,” I say.

I know she’ll baulk at the idea, but she is my girlfriend. She practically lives with me now.

I make my way up to my office. Elise isn’t due back until Monday. Something about hiking in Monte San Primo with some Italian friends she met.

Brooke’s desk phone rings as I pass.

“Alex Bianchi.”

“No Brooke?” a voice I recognise asks.

“She has an appointment. What can I do for you, Pete?” I ask.

“I was…” He tells me about some issues he’s encountering.

“Hold on, I’m not at my desk. Let me grab a piece of paper.”

I retrieve Brooke’s key from its hiding spot and unlock her drawers. She’s tidy, so nothing is left out in the open.

I grab some paper from the top of a stack of files.

I scribble down the points Pete is making to ensure I have a record.

“I’ll add these to the agenda of our next board meeting. See what the consensus is.”

“Great. Catch up soon.”

“You too, Pete.”

We disconnect, and I go to shut the drawer. I smile as I see the top file. Brooke Notes. My mind wanders back to when she first came to work for me, the copious notes she took, terrified she’d forget something. I pick it up and open it.

I frown, pulling out a stack of paper.

I tense, my chest tightening.

Bile burns the back of my throat, a tremor running through my body.

No!

I flick through the pages, wanting what I’m holding, what I’m seeing, to be a mirage… but no. Page after page of designs. Great designs, beautiful designs. Designs that Elise, our creative director, has shown me.

Why the fuck does Brooke have them?

A shiver racks my body.

It’s not possible.

I drop my chin to my chest and close my eyes.

But it is.

Brooke viewed each stolen design. She’s befriended Elise and has spent time in her office. Now this. Were these going to be her next pitch?

The elevator dings in the background, and I slide the papers back into the file, relocking Brooke’s desk and returning her key to its hiding place.

I enter my office and shut the door as a sharp pain constricts my chest.

There must be an explanation.

I pick up my phone and dial Elise’s number.

No answer.

Shit, she’s hiking in Italy until Sunday.

I stare at the file in my hand and head to Teresa’s office. Maybe she can shed some light on what I’ve just uncovered.

CHAPTER 66

HARPER

Bless Keith. It’s a relief to have him waiting when I exit the private practice.

“Everything all right?” he asks, holding the door open for me.

“Yes, apparently this isn’t unusual when you’ve had a nasty gastrointestinal bug. He’s running some blood tests as a precautionary measure. I’ll get the results back in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

“That’s good.”

I slide into the back seat and wait while I’m driven to the office.

When I arrive, Lucia greets me as usual.

I make my way up to my desk and open my desk drawer, placing my handbag at the bottom. I check Alex’s calendar in case he’s added a new appointment. He should be free, but his door is closed.

I head to the kitchen to make us both a coffee, but change mine to a peppermint tea when the smell intensifies my nausea.

I knock on Alex’s door.

“Come in.” His voice comes from inside, and I smile.

Despite all the time we spend together, the deep resonance of his voice sets off a fluttering in my belly and an ache in my chest.

I push open the door, balancing the tray holding our drinks.

“Only me,” I say, stepping through.

I draw up short.

Alex is standing next to his conference table.

Pieces of paper are spread across the surface. On them are my designs.

Shit!

“I can explain,” I say, moving into the room and placing the tray down on his desk.

A heavy feeling squeezes my chest.

“Please do,” he says, his tone not one I recognise.

“I should have told you,” I say. “I wanted to… I just didn’t know how.”

“Tell me now,” he says.

“I’ve been attending night school.”

He inclines his head slightly, a smile twisting his lips.

“Night school?”

“Yes, I enrolled in the new year.”

“When is night school?”

“It was every Tuesday and Thursday evening, but I stopped when we got serious.”

“I see,” he says, although his tone is off. “Why would you stop night school because you were dating me? It’s not like we regularly see each other during the week?”

He sounds reasonable, but something in his demeanour tells me this is a side of Alex I’ve not experienced before.

The sound of my heartbeat thunders in my ears.

“I didn’t tell you about night school because I didn’t want you to think that I was only with you for a leg up.”

“A leg up?”

“Why are you being obtuse?”

“I’m just trying to ensure I understand what’s happened here,” he says. “Why the woman I’m sleeping with has two of St Clair’s latest fashion sketches in her drawer? Sketches that have recently been stolen from our design studio and sold on to one of our competitors.”

I freeze.

What? My designs have been sold to a competitor?

“That’s not possible,” I say.

“Believe me, it’s very possible. I received confirmation from Teresa this morning. These are the latest designs to have been taken.”

I shake my head frantically, my stomach turning over.

“I don’t understand. There must be some mistake. Have you spoken to Elise? She can vouch for me.”

“Elise? You’re going to drag her into this?”

“She knows about night school. She was our visiting specialist.”

“Are you trying to tell me my creative director has been lying to me for months about what my PA has been up to?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Then how was it?”

“I asked her not to say anything.”

“And she agreed?”

I rub my forehead between my thumb and forefinger.

Think, Brooke!

“I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression that I was only interested in you for my career,” I say.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back.

“I… It… Look. I can only imagine how it sounds.”

“Can you?” His lips twist.

“These are my designs,” I say.

He lets out a dry laugh. “Your designs. A twenty-four-year-old with no previous fashion experience, and you expect me to believe you designed and produced these?” he says, pointing to the sketches and detailed flats that Elise had me produce. “You may be great in bed, Brooke, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Don’t take me for an idiot.”

I sigh.

“I’m not. I know it might seem far-fetched.”

“Far-fetched?” He shakes his head, letting out a harrumph. “Do you know, I anticipated a more convincing excuse. You expect me to believe a couple of months of night classes would have you producing designs like these, with this level of technical detail?” His eyes never waver from mine, his expression hardening. “How naïve and stupid do you think I am? Even raw talent needs to be trained and honed.”

A trickle of sweat runs down my back, and black dots appear in my vision.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve studied design,” I say, meeting his gaze.

He pinches the bridge of his nose hard.

“Not the first time?”

I sigh. “I completed the first year of an undergraduate fashion design course in the UK, before I came to New York.”

He grabs a piece of paper from the desk and waves it at me.

My made-up CV.

“So, you’re saying this is fabricated? Because I’ve read it multiple times this morning, and I don’t remember seeing a full- or part-time fashion degree course listed, or a gap in the timeline where it could have been omitted.”

Oh crap!

“It… I… Please believe me when I say it isn’t what it seems.”

“Want to know something else? I realised today that your CV is perfect. Too perfect.” His gaze never wavers. “No timeline issues, no missing months. Everything lines up perfectly. Does my mother know who you really are?”

I stare at him, watching his expression change as every half-truth and lie falls into place.

“Alex, I…”

“Get out,” he snaps. “I need to think.”

“Alex, please… I can explain.”

Although I’m not sure how.

I can tell him the truth and break my agreement with The Seamstress and his mother. But he’s not listening.

I drop my chin to my chest.

“When Elise gets back, please speak to her.”

I don’t wait for a reply. Instead, I turn and leave.

He doesn’t stop me, nor does he call after me. I move to my desk and grab my bag, blinking rapidly.

I will not cry. This will all be sorted out. Elise will tell him the truth when she returns.

I stare at his closed door before making my way to the elevator.

CHAPTER 67

ALEX

Iwatch her leave and wonder what the hell just happened.

My chest constricts, and I slump into my chair.

I should go after her, call security, do something. Could this explain her reluctance to let me speak to HR about us, or is it merely a coincidence? Does Mother know who she really is, or has she been played too?

I’d call, but she has guests staying this week. I don’t need St Clair’s dirty laundry being aired in public. There’ll be plenty of time to fill her in later.

I gather the sheets and place them back in the file, locking it in my top drawer.

I drop my head, resting it against the back of the chair, closing my eyes.

A numbness descends.

Was I a means to an end? Did someone send her to spy on me?

Memories of us together flash before my eyes, her laughing, her teasing and the two of us wrapped in each other’s arms.

She gave me her virginity.

What am I missing?

Something doesn’t feel right.

Brooke didn’t deny having the drawings. Tell me that they’d been planted, or that she was being set up. Instead, she claimed they were hers… Why? After all the months she’s worked here, does she not realise how implausible that is?

Then there’s Mother. Does she know what’s going on?

I think back to all the mysterious phone calls Brooke accepts on her second phone, calls she ends abruptly whenever I’m around… Is she in trouble? Does someone have something on her? Is she being blackmailed, forced to do this?

It’s wishful thinking to hope there’s another explanation and that I haven’t simply allowed myself to be played.

Questions swirl through my head.

I grab my phone and dial Elise’s number again. It goes straight through to voicemail. Of all the times to be out of range.

My desk phone rings.

“Alex,” I say.

“Alex, you’re there,” Dom says.

Fuck!

My eyes go to the clocks on my wall.

“Sorry, Dom. On my way,” I say. “See you shortly.”

Come on, Alex. Time to get your shit together and concentrate.

I stop as I reach the door.

Fuck, I never asked her how her doctor’s appointment went.

CHAPTER 68

HARPER

Iflag down a cab as soon as I hit the street.

Slumping into the back seat, I give him my address and stare blindly out of the window.

Hold it together. You’ve survived worse than this.

But even after everything I’ve been through in the past year, nothing compares to this. My heart is being squeezed. The pain in my chest is unbearable.

We pull up outside my apartment building. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been back. Given how much time I’ve been spending with Alex, we’ve practically been living together since our night at the museum.

I pay my fare and head towards the entrance.

A hand grips my elbow.

I turn around, breaking their hold, only to be grabbed again.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s only me.” Mitch’s voice breaks through my fog.

I sink against the door.

“God, Mitch, you scared the crap out of me,” I say, trying to control my breathing.

“I called your name multiple times.”

“Sorry, I was miles away,” I admit.

“I could tell. Is everything all right?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head, my eyes welling. Only then do I realise he’s here and not at work. “Why are you here?”

“Let’s go inside. I was about to come to the office, but I saw you leaving, so I grabbed the next cab and followed you.”

My heart sinks, but he smiles instead.

“Don’t look like that. For once, we have good news.”

We make our way up to their apartment. Dan is already waiting.

“That was quick.”

“She was heading out anyway.”

I leave my bag by the door.

“News?”

Dan grins, the gesture taking years off his face.

He motions to a set of photos he has laid out on their table.

I move towards them.

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER

We move past the two burly bouncers at the door.

“Well, at least we’ll be safe from gate crashers,” Carolyn says, eyeing them up as we pass.

“Show some class,” Becca hisses.

“Oh, don’t be such a snob. Don’t tell me you’d turn it down if it came knocking,” Carolyn retorts.

Before I can say anything, Jasper appears out of nowhere. “Harper, you made it.”

I smile. My heart rate picks up at the sight of him.

Jasper Peregrine is a six-foot-tall rugby player. He’s one of the newest players selected for the England Under-20s. He’s blond and gorgeous. A girl could easily get lost in his piercing blue eyes, and according to my friends, he’s into me.

“We did,” I say, trying to act cool, despite the sweat pooling in my palms. “Thank you for inviting us. You know Becca and Carolyn.”

My friends grin like Cheshire cats over my shoulder.

“Welcome,” Jasper says. “Free bar in the kitchen, help yourselves.”

He steps to one side, letting us pass. I open and close my mouth, but Becca pushes me forward.

“Don’t seem too keen,” she hisses next to my ear. “Let him do some of the chasing.”

Becca and Carolyn have both had serious boyfriends. I’ve tried to date, but most men are intimidated by my siblings, which is not surprising when Eli is six feet six and built like a tank. If he wasn’t my brother, I’d be scared of him, but because he is, he’s little more than a pain in my arse.

We move deeper into the house. I can’t believe his parents have let him have this get-together. I wonder if they’re around, hiding in a dark corner in case something goes wrong, but then my mind wanders back to the two giants on the door.

I sip my drink and make small talk with some of our classmates. Becca and Carolyn were right, everyone who is anyone is here. I’m glad they convinced me to sneak out.

It’s about eleven when the party really gets started. Unlike my friends, I pace myself. I like a drink, but only in moderation. That’s probably from watching my siblings suffer through hangovers over the years.

“Hey, beautiful,” an older guy says, slinging his arm around my shoulder.

I sidestep.

“Oh, don’t be like that. These parties are about letting your hair down.” He slurs his speech, making it obvious that’s what he’s been doing.

“I have a boyfriend,” I say.

“Your loss.” He huffs, sauntering away.

“Please tell me that’s a lie,” Jasper says, appearing at my side.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and stare up at him.

“Who wants to know?”

He leans his shoulder against the wall, giving me a smile that sets a kaleidoscope of butterflies loose in my stomach.

“As I invited you here, that would be me.”

“Really?” I say, turning my body and mirroring his pose.

“Really.” His hand comes up and cups my cheek. “Our parents, I’m sure, would love us to get together.”

I step back, frowning.

“Is that why you’re flirting with me? For fuck’s sake, Jasper, I’m seventeen.”

“Hold your horses. Of course I’m not, babe. You’re beautiful, one of the hottest girls in your year group.”

I force some of the tension from my shoulders.

“Sorry, force of habit,” I mutter.

Getting hit on because of our family’s wealth and prestige is something I’ve watched my siblings battle for years. Jasper’s family are in the same league as ours, but something feels off and I’m beginning to wish I’d never snuck out.

“Don’t I know it. But Harper, don’t you think your dad would be happy if you dated me?”

“To be honest, probably not. He told me not to come tonight. He doesn’t know I’m here. I snuck out.”

“Snuck out?” His eyes glisten. “Naughty, naughty, Harper Frazer, I didn’t think you had it in you. You always give off such a goody-two-shoes vibe.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” I fire back.

Jasper might be smooth and gorgeous-looking, but now I’m here talking to him, that initial attraction is waning fast. Describing me as annoyingly well-behaved, virtuous and rule-abiding makes me wonder what game he’s playing. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s more brawn than brains.

He moves closer, his eyes locking on my lips.

“I better go and find my friends,” I say, pushing off the wall, not waiting for a reply.

As soon as I leave, one of the burly bouncers from earlier takes my spot and starts talking to him.

I make my way into the kitchen where Becca has her tongue down some guy’s throat, and Carolyn is deep in conversation with some girls in our year group.

“Harper,” Carolyn shouts over, waving her arms frantically as I make my way through the crush of people.

“Hey, you having fun?” she says.

“Ish,” I admit. The fact that I snuck out is not sitting well with me. Maybe I am a goody-two-shoes, regretting that I let my friends talk me into this. “I think I’m going to call a taxi and head home.”

“Really? I thought you were hoping Jasper…” She waggles her eyebrows.

I grimace and shake my head.

“Really?” she says. “But he’s hot.”

“No, I’m not feeling it,” I admit.

She pulls a face. “You’re never going to lose your V-card at this rate.”

Where Jasper is concerned, the kaleidoscope of butterflies has turned into ten tonnes of concrete in my stomach.

“Plenty more fish in the sea. I’m only seventeen,” I say, nodding in Becca’s direction.

“She needs it if she’s ever going to get over Alistair.”

I’m not so sure, but as the least experienced in our group, I’m not going to argue. Alistair was her boyfriend of two years. He left for university last September and hasn’t been back since, breaking our friend’s heart in the process.

“Can I get you beautiful ladies a drink?” a guy asks as he and a friend approach.

I recognise them, although I don’t know their names. I only know they’re friends of Jasper’s older brother, Ollie.

Carolyn nudges me and winks.

“Yes, please,” she says.

They grin, and one disappears, reappearing a moment later carrying a couple of cocktails.

“One for you, and another for you,” he says, taking a bow as he hands them over.

I take a sip, grimacing.

“Wow, it tastes like paint stripper,” I say.

The guy who handed it to me scowls and looks like he’s about to say something when his friend nudges him. He frowns but follows his friend as he moves away.

“Do you have to scare all the good-looking ones away?” Carolyn grumbles, taking another sip.

“Don’t tell me you can actually stomach that?” I say, waving my drink around.

“Hand it over. It’s not that bad,” she says with a slight slur before grabbing it and chugging it down in one.

I shake my head.

A few minutes pass before her hand flies to her mouth.

“I don’t feel so good,” she says, her eyes glazing over.

She staggers into me, and I catch her around the waist.

“Let’s get you to the bathroom.”

“H, I don’t feel so good,” she says, her voice slurring badly now.

“I’m not surprised. You just downed that cocktail, and I hate to think what else you’ve drunk tonight.”

I manoeuvre her through the crowd and towards the stairs.

“We take it as collateral,” I hear someone mutter.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot. I’m not. You’ve lost your fucking minds. You’re not dragging me into this. This is my party! If anything happens, who do you think they’re going to point the finger at?”

I manhandle Carolyn up the stairs and into an empty bathroom, just in time.

She empties the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl as I hold her hair.

When she’s finished, she lies on the cold tiles, groaning.

“I don’t feel good, H,” she mumbles.

“It’s okay,” I say. “Don’t worry. I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

After she retches for the sixth time, I decide enough is enough.

“We need to get help,” I tell my friend, smoothing her hair back from her face.

“No, my mother will kill me.” She moans, clutching her stomach.

In all fairness to Carolyn, she’s probably not wrong. Her mother is strict and very pious.

“I’ll call my dad,” I say.

I know I’ll have to face the consequences of sneaking out, but right now my friend’s health is more important than being grounded for life.

Carolyn has passed out by the time I next look down.

I dial my father’s number.

“Dad,” I say.

“Harper? Why are you calling me?” he asks, his voice confused.

Shit, he still thinks I’m upstairs.

“Dad, please don’t freak out, but I snuck out and came to the party,” I say quietly.

He sighs.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I know it was a bad idea. I can see that now.”

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice full of concern. “Has something happened?”

“I’m fine, but Carolyn’s not. She’s had too much to drink. She’s not in a good way, and you know what her Mum’s like…”

“Where are you?”

“In an upstairs bathroom at the Peregrines’ house.”

“I’m on my way.”

“I’m really sorry, Dad.”

“We can discuss this later. Stay where you are and lock yourself in. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

* * *

I didn’t even say “I love you.”

But I hadn’t stayed there. Instead, I’d gone downstairs to get Carolyn a glass of water.

* * *

“Is everything okay?” Jasper asks as I’m heading back upstairs.

I grimace. “Carolyn is ill, too many cocktails. I’m just taking her some water.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” His concern is surprisingly genuine.

“No, it’s fine. She just needs to sleep it off,” I say, knowing Carolyn will be embarrassed enough in the morning. “Dad’s coming to collect us. Can you let me know when he arrives?”

“Of course.”

But Jasper never came because Dad never arrived. He was run off the road and died instantly after hitting a tree, according to the coroner’s report. He died coming to rescue me and my friend from a party he’d asked me not to attend. If I’d listened and stayed home, he would never have been on the road that night. The drunk driver would not have…

* * *

I press my finger to the photo.

“These are the two men who spoke to Carolyn and me that night,” I say. “The ones I also overheard arguing with Jasper earlier in the evening.”

“You’re sure? And you’re saying they were friends of Oliver Peregrine? It was seven years ago,” Dan asks.

I nod. “Positive. I’m good with faces.”

The two men exchange a look.

“I’m taking it that this is a good thing?”

“Do you know⁠—”

“Dan,” Mitch cuts across him.

“She deserves to know.”

Mitch shakes his head.

“What do I deserve to know?” I ask.

Mitch harrumphs, and I expect Dan to speak, but instead it’s Mitch who motions to the chair.

“Montague Peregrine. Do you know him?”

“It was his son Jasper’s party,” I say. “I went to school with Jasper. He was the year above me.”

“Anything else?”

I shake my head.

“He’s a successful businessman who ran in the same circles as my father. I think he came to Dad’s funeral.”

The final words are like a hit to my solar plexus.

I shake my head. “No.”

Dan squats in front of me.

“The two guys you’ve pointed out, one was killed a couple of years ago in a kidnapping plot gone wrong. The other works for Montague Peregrine. The evidence increasingly points to Montague Peregrine as the head of the syndicate, although he rarely gets his hands dirty.”

“But…”

“What I’m about to tell you…” Dan says.

I sigh. “I know. It can go no further. I appreciate you guys and your honesty.”

“There’s a rumour amongst the soldiers. To get ahead in the syndicate, you’re expected to carry out a task.”

I close my eyes.

“Their task was to take Dad out of the game?”

Dan squeezes my hand.

“They knew your father was onto them, although he was still trying to ascertain who was at the top of the pyramid when he died.”

“But surely this is circumstantial at best,” I say.

Mitch smiles. “In isolation, but think Crawley, your dad’s files, evidence from other cases previously not linked, and now this photo… This is the missing piece of the jigsaw, Harper. It ties Montague to the syndicate.”

“There’s more you’re not telling me,” I say.

“The paint.”

I close my eyes, knowing what they’re about to say.

“The paint on Dad’s car from the accident?”

Mitch nods.

“Belongs to⁠—”

I draw in an unsteady breath that turns into a sob.

Dan squeezes my hand harder, offering me his strength. I’m not sure how long we sit here.

“What now?”

“Now you can go home,” Dan says.

CHAPTER 69

ALEX

It’s been four days since Brooke walked out of my office, and I’ve done nothing.

I’ve sat on the evidence, unable to report my findings and making excuses to myself because I don’t want to admit she’s got under my skin.

Elise is still unreachable. After Paris Fashion Week, she requested some vacation time, and I suspect she’s been hiking in the mountains with Giovanni Esposito, which is making her almost impossible to track down.

A knock sounds on my door.

“Hey,” Elise says, popping her head in. “Nolan said you wanted to see me?”

“You’re back,” I say, earning a frown. I wave her in, hating what I’m about to do, but needing to know for sure.

If what Brooke said is true, that Elise knew what was going on and lied to me, what else has she lied to me about? I hate that I’m questioning myself and everyone I care about.

“No Brooke?” she says, motioning to the empty desk outside my door. “Did she have a lovely time at her friend’s wedding?”

I shake my head, hoping my voice holds.

“She’s gone,” I say.

Elise’s brows furrow. “She’s what? When?”

She steps inside and closes the door.

“Is she coming back?”

I’m surprised at how invested she appears.

“It was Brooke.”

“I don’t understand. What was Brooke?”

I run a hand through my hair, my chest tightening every time I say the words.

“Brooke was our mole.”

Elise looks at me, the lines on her forehead deepening, her expression one of complete disbelief.

“Why on earth would you think Brooke was the mole?”

“You might want to sit down,” I say, motioning to the chair opposite me.

She walks into the room, her face a picture of confusion.

“I don’t understand,” she says, taking the seat opposite me.

“I know you were fond of her, but she played us… me especially.”

The words physically hurt as I say them, like I’m betraying her. All those nights wrapped in each other’s arms. I’m a sad, nearly forty-year-old man whose head was turned by a beautiful young woman who lied to him.

“You’ve lost me. Maybe you need to start at the beginning,” she says. “Because I think you’re wrong.”

I reach into my drawer and pull out Brooke’s folder, sliding out the designs and placing them in front of her.

“The design drawings. The ones you showed me. I found copies hidden in a file in her desk.”

“Can I see?” Elise asks, leaning forward and picking up the sheets of paper. She shakes her head.

“No, no, no,” she says. “Brooke didn’t steal these, Alex,” she says, her eyes meeting mine. “They’re her designs. She has remarkable potential, a natural talent… even greater than yours was.”

She smiles across the desk at me, but whatever she sees causes her smile to drop.

“Please tell me you didn’t fire her, or worse, have her arrested?”

I stare at the woman opposite.

Some of the tension in my shoulders loosens, only to return with my next thought.

If that’s the case, my mind races back to what Brooke said about Elise knowing. But Elise would have told me, not kept it a secret. My thoughts descend into chaos as I try to uncover the truth.

My stomach drops, sweat breaking out along my spine.

“Do you care to elaborate?” I say, leaning back and steepling my fingers.

She mirrors my position, although her hands remain in her lap.

“I found out not long after Easter. You know I work as a guest lecturer at the night school downtown. Brooke was a student there, studying fashion. I’d suspected there was more to her when we were in Italy. Her eye for detail and her fabric selections amazed me.”

I sit back and stare at my friend and colleague.

“And you didn’t think to mention this to me?”

Elise closes her eyes. When she reopens them, they lock on mine.

“She asked me not to say anything,” she says. “I shouldn’t have listened. I’m sorry.”

My stomach drops as the enormity of what I’ve done begins to sink in.

“Did she say why?”

“She didn’t want you to think she’d come to work for you as a way of getting into the industry. I told her it was a mistake, but… fuck, Alex. I never expected you’d think Brooke was the leak. If I had…” She drops her chin to her chest before raising her gaze to mine. “Alex, the girl has raw talent. I showed you those designs because I hoped it would spur her into telling you once I told her how good you thought they were, but I never got the chance.”

I drop my head forward and close my eyes.

“How did you have her designs, the ones you showed me?”

“As part of the assignment I set for my module, I asked her to complete our internship brief. She did, and with flying colours, I might add.”

My chest swells. Typical Brooke. She does nothing by half, whether she’s working in the office or living her private life.

“If Brooke is not the leak, who the fuck is?” I say, my stomach churning. “We’re back to square one.”

The thought sends a chill through me.

Elise’s eyes drop, and she nods.

“That’s why I came up here. I set a trap using Brooke’s designs before I left for Paris. It’s been sprung.” Her eyes meet mine, and I’m shocked by the devastation I see there. She swallows. “I used Kris’s list of staff who had viewed the previously stolen files, the one his team collated. I didn’t think…”

“But I didn’t think it showed anything,” I say.

“Neither did I, but then…”

“Who, Elise?”

“Nolan.”

I rock back in my chair and stare at her.

“What? Are you sure? He’s recently been promoted to your second-in-command. He’s been with us forever.”

She shakes her head, her lip quivering. Betrayal is hard, especially when trust has been destroyed.

“Nothing in his file raised any red flags, but I don’t know. I kept thinking back to a few things he’s said, especially when his designs had failed to make the final selection. Then he excused himself from our Italy trip in December. When I asked him how his sick family member was, it was as if he didn’t know what I was talking about and then quickly brushed it off.”

“You set him up?”

“I did.” She bites her bottom lip. “The trap I set, with the help of Kris, meant Nolan was the only person privy to Brooke’s designs besides me, and now you.”

“You’re sure?”

“Nolan was the only one who accessed the files, as Kris’s team and my own checks have now confirmed.” She pauses.

There’s a knock.

“Come in,” I say, my voice sounding tired.

“Alex?” Sue appears. “Ah, Elise, there you are. I got your message.”

“Come in, Sue,” I say. “It looks like we have uncovered our mole.”

* * *

Seven hours later, the board members convene in my office, and the authorities arrest Nolan Banks on suspicion of corporate espionage.

“Job well done,” Dom says as we’re about to leave the room.

“Thank you, Dom,” I say, forcing a smile, although my gut is still clenched tight.

I tried to call Brooke earlier, but her phone is off, or she’s simply not answering. Not that I blame her.

Elise appears at our side. She looks at me.

“Any news?”

I know what she’s asking. Have I managed to speak to Brooke?

“I’m heading over there now,” I say.

“Do you want me to come?” she asks. “Explain why I used her designs?”

I shake my head. “This is something I need to do alone.”

“Tell her I’m sorry I wasn’t here, that I didn’t warn her,” she adds.

I squeeze her shoulder. This has been a tough few days for us both.

CHAPTER 70

ALEX

Keith drops me outside Brooke’s apartment building.

I hit the intercom, but there’s no answer.

I look around, hitting it again and wondering if she’s gone shopping. A familiar face appears out of the convenience store. He looks up and spots me, a scowl forming.

“Mitch, isn’t it?”

“Mr Bianchi. What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I’ve come to see Brooke, but she’s not answering her door.”

“She’s left,” he says.

My heart sinks. “Left?”

“Gone back to England.”

“England?” I repeat.

He inclines his head and watches me.

He inhales before nodding towards the door. “You might want to come up. She left something for you.”

“She did?”

He opens the door, holding it to let me pass.

“She did,” he repeats, with a smirk.

We make our way to his apartment, the door opposite Brooke’s. It’s my turn to frown. So, Mitch is one of the guys who looked out for Brooke.

He steps inside, motioning for me to follow. The apartment is packed up, as if he’s moving out.

“You’re leaving?”

He doesn’t answer. He picks up an envelope with my name on it.

I’d recognise Brooke’s handwriting anywhere.

“You might want to sit down. I was going to drop it into the office this afternoon before I leave.”

I take a seat on the old couch.

“I’ll give you time to read it,” he says before disappearing into the bedroom.

I stare at the white envelope.

My gut twists, and I fear whatever Brooke has divulged is going to change everything.

Every morning since she left, I’ve woken up with my body drenched in sweat, feeling like I’ve been searching for something. Something I’ve lost. Only it’s gone, and I know I’m to blame.

I hear Mitch moving around in the other room.

Does he know what it contains?

I pull out the neatly folded sheet.

Dear Alex,

By the time you read this letter, I’ll be on a plane to England. I would have preferred to have this conversation in person, but unfortunately, life has other ideas.

I’m sorry things ended the way they did between us. You’re a truly wonderful man, but I cannot blame you for having doubts about me, about us. There’s so much you don’t know, so much I haven’t been able to share with you.

I stare at her words. Is that what it was? Doubts? I accused an innocent woman of corporate espionage, and she blames herself.

I return to the letter.

I want to warn you about what is to come.

I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I can’t tell you how close I’ve come to telling you the truth, but I made promises I could not break, not without endangering myself and others. I just hope that one day you’ll be able to forgive me and remember our time together with fondness.

Who the hell did she make promises to? My mother? Someone else?

Her next words steal the breath from my lungs.

My name is not Brooke Feldmann.

It is Harper Frazer.

I stare at the words in front of me. Harper Frazer. Where do I know that name from?

The missing British heiress. Fuck!

Enzo kept bringing her up when I was in London. Did he know? Suspect?

I return to the letter.

As a British-American, you’re probably most familiar with my older sister, Kat, Kathryn Frazer, CEO of the Frazer Hotel Group, and Penelope Dawson, my soon-to-be sister-in-law. Kris Lansdown can also vouch for me, as it was Kris who helped me enter the US undetected.

Shit! It was Kathryn Frazer who was rushed to hospital. I think back to Kris when he visited me in my office. He must have known Brooke, but he never let on.

During the past eight months, I’ve been in witness protection. Before that, I was targeted by the same group of men and women who murdered my father, Robert Frazer, seven years ago. These men targeted me as a warning. Those investigating his death suspected my life was in danger, so I was sent by my mother to yours. I don’t understand their history, but Sophia very kindly agreed to take me in and offered me refuge. I’ll forever be in her debt. Please don’t blame Kris or your mother. They understood that I had signed away my real identity and respected that.

When I return to the UK, I will be unreachable for a time. I’m being moved to a safe house where I’ll be debriefed before I can return to the civilised world. I’ve been warned during this time, that all outside contact will be cut off. That is why I’ve asked M to deliver you this letter.

Please know you’ve been a shining light during my darkest hours. I never expected us to meet, or to develop feelings. Please believe me when I say I’ve hated lying to you. Just know that, as Brooke, I found something I never thought possible, and as Harper, I’ll cherish every memory of our time together. I just hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

Thank you for everything.

Love always,

Your Brooke xx

Harper

I’m not familiar with Harper Frazer, though her elder brother, Elijah, was a couple of years younger than me in school. He was a day pupil, not a boarder, so our paths rarely crossed. I know, however, that Kris has just purchased Elijah’s cyber security firm as part of his company’s expansion into Europe. Strange, considering the man stole his fiancée.

Mitch reappears and leans on the doorframe.

“Who are you to her?”

“Dan and I are her protection officers.”

“She really was in danger?”

He nods.

“She’s an amazing young woman,” he says. “She’s not what we expected.”

He laughs at my clear confusion.

“You’re an American. Harper Frazer is quite a character, or should I say was. I think she’s enjoyed the anonymity of being Brooke and everything it has afforded her.”

His words hit a nerve.

That is why she understood.

I always felt it was strange how she could empathise with Enzo and me.

“What now?”

He shrugs.

“That, sir, is completely up to you.”

Keith drives me to Mother’s.

She’s at the door when I arrive. As I get out of the car, she simply turns and walks back into the house.

“You knew, and you didn’t say anything?”

She inclines her head, taking a sip of her iced tea.

“It was for her safety, especially after you employed her as your PA.” She sighs. “I must say, I didn’t see that coming, or the fact that you were going to fall in love with her.”

“I—”

“You’re in love with her. Don’t try to deny it. I’ve got eyes in my head. And whether she’s Brooke or Harper, she’s the same woman. Brooke is just the unfiltered version.” She chuckles to herself. “Although that may be the wrong description. Harper Frazer has never been filtered, at least not in her later years. It was why I was tough on her when she arrived.”

“But you could have told me who she was,” I say. “What did you think I’d do? Throw her out or leave her unprotected?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “No, Sandro, you would have tried to burn down the world for her,” she says. “The moment you two met, I felt it. It was like she unlocked something inside you. Your protective nature would have put her in danger. I made her promise not to tell you, although I know she’d already signed a memorandum of understanding, or perhaps it was a witness-protection agreement. Whichever it was, it required her to keep her identity secret if she wanted to retain her protective team. It set out strict behavioural rules, which that young woman has followed to a tee. I think she’s surprised everyone.”

I sink down onto the couch.

“What now?” I ask.

“That’s up to you.”

“How do you know her mother? Is she really a friend’s daughter?”

Mother surprises me by chuckling.

“Francesca is the reason I’m married to your father.”

I frown, not understanding what she means.

“Your grandfather had arranged my marriage to another man when I was barely a teenager.”

“Another man?”

“Robert Frazer, to be precise.”

I sit and stare at her. She was engaged to Robert Frazer, Harper’s father?

She smiles.

“When I eloped with your father, your grandfather cut me off. Francesca helped us, and so did Robert. It was only when your grandfather got sick that he relented. He needed an heir, and despite our differences, he wanted St Clair to stay in the family. It’s why you were raised and schooled in England.”

“I need to go after her,” I say.

Her smile widens. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She pauses. “Wait here.”

She disappears, returning a few minutes later.

“When you see her, you need to return this.”

I look up at the pendant dangling from her fingers. A ruby pendant. A custom-made St Clair design.

“I promised her I would keep it safe,” she says. “It was a gift chosen by her mother and father before he died. But she only received it after his death, on her twenty-first birthday.”

“You took it off her?”

Something churns in my chest as I realise what this must have meant to Brooke. No wonder her hand kept going to her throat before dropping as if it were searching for something.

“It’s a distinctive piece.”

I know she’s right. And Harper has been hiding in plain sight. Brooke would never have worn something like this.

She takes my hand, turns it over, and lowers it into my palm.

“I’m trusting you to return it with my love.”

I nod.

“Now get out of here, Sandro. Enzo is expecting you.”

CHAPTER 71

HARPER

With the press camped outside the main gates of Frazer Manor, Dan drops me at the edge of the estate, despite risking the wrath of The Seamstress.

“You take care,” he says as I clamber out of the car, grabbing my phone and bag.

The Seamstress finally returned my phone after our final debrief, late last night.

This morning I gave him an ultimatum. Either take me home, or I’d find my own way there.

He agreed, and we snuck out of the safe house they moved me to immediately after we landed.

I shoot him a grateful smile. “You too, and don’t be a stranger.”

The chances of seeing him again are remote as I know he’s about to be reassigned.

I unlock one of the many hidden entrances and slip through the gate, careful to secure it behind me. Security is now number one on my agenda.

After I woke up this morning, I decided enough was enough. It was time to take my life back. I sent a message to The Seamstress after we left, telling her my plan, so she knows where to find me when she’s ready.

I head to the water tower, the place my brothers used to bring their girlfriends. I need some time to calm my racing heart and come to terms with the changes that have happened virtually overnight. During the debriefing, they updated me on their findings and what they expect to happen next. I’ll still have to remain vigilant, but they think the immediate threat has passed with Peregrine’s arrest.

Now, a few hours later, I’m sitting quietly in my big sister’s bedroom, like a scaredy-cat, waiting for her to come to bed.

I relax in Kat’s favourite wing-back chair. I remember when Mum was going to throw it out. Kat nearly had apoplexy and demanded Elijah and Jaxson carry it up to her room, directing proceedings as they went. It’s lived here ever since, although I’d swear Mother or Kat has had it reupholstered.

Closing my eyes, I let the peace and tranquillity of home seep into my bones.

I’ve missed this. The silence of the country, the fresh air, the closeness to nature. I didn’t realise how much until now.

My time in New York has been amazing. Not that I got to see much of it, squirrelled away in my apartment or Alex’s. I may not have been able to enjoy the nightlife or sights, Broadway shows or shopping… but I had my work and… Alex. My heart constricts.

I sigh.

Don’t go there. You need to let him go.

There’s something magical about coming home. Especially here. No car horns, no shouting, no roar of the subway. How had I forgotten?

I’m beginning to realise I haven’t. I’ve merely protected myself. I couldn’t dwell on thoughts of home. Not without driving myself completely insane. I smile. Kris was right. I had a choice to make, to make the most of my time there, and that’s what I did.

Sneaking into the house earlier wasn’t hard, especially with no one expecting me and with secret passages and hidden door keys at my disposal. Betsy nearly discovered me, but I managed to hide in the wall panel outside Caleb and April’s room.

My family are all gathered downstairs, no doubt playing Monopoly. I can see Kat and Gabriel going head-to-head, their competitive natures taking over, while Jaxson and Leah keep the peace and Caleb and Elijah do their best to thwart them all. It’s not what I was expecting when I arrived, and it’s why I’m now here, hiding and taking a moment to compose myself.

My siblings and their families lead such busy lives… but they’re here, waiting for me and tomorrow afternoon’s press conference, which will announce The Rebel’s return and Montague Peregrine’s arrest.

We’re Frazers. We stick together through thick and thin. How could I have forgotten? It’s who we are. And now, with all the children, it really is a case of the more the merrier.

My heart skips a beat. The children. I can’t wait to meet the new additions, baby Amelia and the twins, Ava and Isla. I’ve missed so much over the past nine months. My hands drop to my still-flat stomach, cradling the life I know is nestled and growing deep inside me.

Just you wait, little one. You’ll have so much fun here with all your aunts and uncles, not to mention cousins. They are going to love you.

I inhale a shuddering breath as voices approach.

“I love you,” Kat’s voice echoes through the door. I close my eyes briefly, then open them and turn towards the sound.

Showtime.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of saying those words,” she continues.

Silence descends, and I cringe. I get up, move towards the bed and sit on the edge.

Kat’s going to kill me. Talk about baby-sister, passion killer.

The door opens, and my sister and a man I love like another brother enter, their arms wrapped around one another and their lips fused.

I click on the bedside light, wanting to stop them before things get too heated. They spring apart, turning sharply to face me.

I stand, allowing Kat and Jax to see my face.

“What the? Rebel, is that you?”

A wide grin lights up her face as her eyes travel over me, her delight palpable.

She rushes forward, pulling me into a sisterly bear hug, one I return with gusto.

“Surprise…”

I sigh, leaning into her embrace, letting her big sister strength ease my recent stress, at least for this one moment.

“I… we weren’t expecting you until the morning. What the hell are you doing hiding up here? Why didn’t you come down and see everyone?”

Pulling back, I gaze into my sister’s face. Before I can stop myself, my face crumples and racking sobs overtake me.

Kat pulls me hard against her.

“It’s okay, Harps. I’ve got you, little sis. You’re safe now.”

She manoeuvres us to the bed and sits, rocking me, just as she always did when I was little and my emotions overwhelmed me.

“It’s okay, everything will be okay,” she says over and over, her cheek pressed against my hair.

Jax must have raised the alarm as my siblings appear one by one.

Caleb rushes through the door first and grabs me in a bear hug. “Oh, Harps,” he says, his voice catching, his eyes glistening in the light from the lamp.

“Hey, you,” I say, burrowing into his chest, before I’m pulled away and into another embrace.

“Why are you hiding up here?” Gabriel asks, gripping my chin so I’m forced to meet his gaze.

“I needed time to decompress,” I say truthfully, earning myself a nod, before I’m pulled once again into his arms. Of everyone, he knows best what that means.

I turn my head as a hand squeezes my shoulder, before a kiss is dropped on the top of my head. I look up to find Elijah standing next to us.

“Harper,” he says, his voice catching.

I bite my lip to stop it from quivering, but it’s impossible to miss the look of alarm on his face.

Mum enters in a flurry. Gabriel relinquishes his hold as she pulls me into her arms.

“We’ve got you, my darling,” she says, kissing my temple. “Everything will be okay.”

She looks up at my brothers.

“There will be time for questions in the morning,” she says firmly and I watch each of my brothers open their mouths to protest before closing them again. Mother is not someone we argue with.

I wrap my arms around her waist and let her move us to the bed, burying my head against her stomach, loving the way her hands instantly smooth over my hair, just as they did when I was a child.

I don’t know how long I sit cocooned between my mother and sister, Kat having remained when the others left, but I don’t push them away. I let them take some of the trauma from me and offer me their strength. I’m tired of being brave, of trying to stand alone. Tomorrow will be a new day, one we will face together. The press is waiting, and questions will need to be answered. I’m back in the fold.

Back where I belong.

CHAPTER 72

HARPER

Imake my way towards the drawing room, stopping outside the door when I hear raised voices.

“What do you mean she’s pregnant?” Caleb’s voice echoes through the space.

“Keep your voice down,” Kat hisses.

“Where’s the father in all this? Do we even know who he is?” Elijah asks.

“Not sure why they’re asking Kat,” a voice says from behind me, and I turn to find Gabriel looking down at me. “How are you feeling this morning?”

I smile up at my brother, my protector. The quietest of them all, but my rock.

“I’m feeling a lot better. I think I needed a good cry.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” he says.

“I have, and I’m still standing,” I say, shooting him a smile I’m not sure reaches my eyes.

“I never doubted it for a moment,” he says, squeezing my shoulder as he pushes open the door and whispers close to my ear. “Own it.”

I shoot him a look, his eyes flashing with encouragement.

I step into the room and face my family.

“Yes, Caleb. I’m pregnant. I’m not sure how far along I am. I learned yesterday through a voice message from my New York physician.”

“Does the father know?” Elijah asks.

“Was it serious between you?” Caleb asks, earning himself growls from both Elijah and Kat.

He shrugs. “It’s a genuine question. Accidents happen. You, of all people, should know,” he fires back at Eli.

I hold up a hand as Eli goes to open his mouth.

“Before this gets out of hand, I’m happy to answer any questions you may have.” I rest a hand on my stomach as another wave of nausea hits. “Yes, I was in a serious relationship with the baby’s father. No, he doesn’t yet know. We took precautions, but they clearly failed. But whatever the outcome, I’ll raise our baby.”

I don’t tell them that Alex and I had a falling out before I left or that I’m not even sure he’ll want to speak to me again. I just hope Mitch gave him my letter and that Elise will back up my story.

“Does he know your true identity?” Gabriel, the voice of reason, asks.

I sink down onto the sofa, exhausted.

I nod. “He does, at least I think he does,” I say. “I wrote him a letter when Dan and Mitch said I was leaving. Mitch was due to deliver it.”

“You sent the guy a letter?” Elijah asks.

“I did.”

“Who the hell did he think you were?” he asks.

“Brooke Feldmann, PA, a small-town girl. He had no reason to doubt me. My fake life was very real.”

Caleb drops himself onto the sofa opposite me. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall when he reads that he was sleeping with Harper Frazer.”

Elijah smacks him on the back of the head.

“Hey,” he says, rubbing the spot. “What I mean is, small-town girl to billionairess. Quite the jump.”

“He has money of his own. You don’t need to worry about me.”

I know where Caleb’s mind has gone, his protective streak has kicked in.

“And you didn’t get to speak to him before you left?” Kat asks.

I shake my head.

“Are you going to contact him?” she says.

“I will. In time.” I don’t want to tell them about how badly things ended between us. “I just want to get the press conference over and done with. Recentre myself.”

“You have three hours before they arrive to collect us,” Pen says, entering the room and sliding an arm around my shoulder. “You’ve got this, Harps. This is a new start.”

* * *

My heart thunders in my chest as I’m escorted to a chair behind a table on a makeshift stage. My eyes dart to every corner.

The room is packed, standing room only. Members of the press fill every available seat, while camera operators line the walls.

I force a smile, picking up the bottle of water in front of me, my hands visibly shaking. I’m grateful when Dan takes it and twists the cap loose before passing it back to me.

“Thank you,” I say, gripping it tightly and raising it to my parched lips.

“You’ve got this,” he says under his breath.

I nod, closing my eyes briefly. Pleased that The Seamstress allowed him to be here. His presence is a comfort I didn’t realise I needed. Mum sits on the other side of me, her hand grasping mine, squeezing it for support. The rest of my siblings are watching the proceedings on a TV screen somewhere inside the police station.

My hair has been dyed back to its natural colour, and my makeup has been done perfectly. There is nothing left of Brooke, only Harper. Why, then, do I feel naked, exposed and vulnerable?

I inhale deeply as the circus begins, letting my Harper mask fall into place, the one I cultivated for years after Dad died. Only it feels different now, as though being away has altered it…

The questions come thick and fast, making my head spin, Mum’s firm grip grounding me.

Harper, where have you been?

Harper, were you in a safe house?

Did you have contact with your family and friends while you were away?

What do you intend to do next?

The chief officer takes the lead, and it doesn’t take me long to realise this is the same way I felt when I first became Brooke.

“That’s enough, ladies and gentlemen. I’m sure Ms Frazer will be happy to answer questions going forward, but this is an update on her whereabouts,” the officer says, finally closing down what has felt like an endless barrage.

Dan gets up and comes to stand behind me, pulling out my chair before guiding Mum and me towards the exit.

Once through the door, I sink back against the wall, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply.

Someone squeezes my arm.

Opening my eyes, I find Pen standing in front of me.

“You did great. In a couple of days, things will have calmed down and something new will have caught their attention,” she says, nodding towards the room I’ve just left. “Let’s get you home where you can put your feet up and rest.”

I offer her a weak smile.

Being back with my family is amazing, but there’s one person I want here with me. Yet there have been no calls, no messages.

CHAPTER 73

ALEX

My gaze is fixed on Harper Frazer as I watch the interview rerun on the ten o’clock news. The composed young woman is surrounded by her family, while the press fires questions at her and the police officers protecting her.

I drop my head into my hands, starting to understand why my mother kept Brooke’s real identity from me. My protective instincts surge to the surface, yet would I have felt this way initially? Or would I have judged her?

I sit in Enzo’s home office in London and close my eyes.

I’ve done the worst thing possible. Run a search on Harper Frazer.

And there’s a lot.

The youngest daughter of Robert and Francesca Frazer. A potential accident, according to the press, considering the seven-year gap between her and her next-youngest siblings, Gabriel and Caleb. Gabriel runs a highly successful hedge fund, while his identical twin, Caleb, has redeveloped large portions of London. Then there is her eldest brother, Elijah, who is two years younger than me, and until recently, was Kris’s major competitor in Europe. Now he’s sold up and is making a name for himself as an artist, and a bloody good one, according to all the reviews. And then there’s Kat, the infamous Kathryn Frazer, ice queen and hotel mogul.

I think back to her saying she had to learn to stand up for herself with her siblings, to fight her corner. I can only imagine.

Quite the lineup in terms of direct family. Each sibling commands success and power in their own right.

But then I look at Harper.

A model student until she was seventeen.

That explains a lot.

Her CV never did tally with the woman’s abilities. Now I understand why.

My chest constricts as I read news articles about her father’s death.

Tributes paid to billionaire hotel CEO, Robert Frazer, after fatal late-night crash.

An article from seven years ago details how a drunk driver ran Robert Frazer off the road and killed him.

I inhale sharply.

More newspaper articles.

Intrusive pictures of her and her siblings at their father’s funeral. Telescopic lenses focusing on their grief. One of her twin brothers wraps Harper in his arms, as if he’s shielding her from the outside world.

More photos. Harper looks stoic, but there’s no mistaking the look of devastation in her eyes. It’s one I recognise. She had the same look the night they rushed her sister into hospital.

Next is a Harper I don’t recognise. Wild hair, wilder makeup, falling out of nightclubs in the early hours of the morning. The Rebel Frazer, the headlines call her.

Then comes her social media platform. An interview with a magazine discussing her three million-plus followers.

For a twenty-one-year-old, she had clout.

I find an old interview, and my chest expands as I listen to her championing the St Clair brand. She’s wearing one of my designs, released after I became CEO, long before she knew me. Her knowledge and insight for someone so young are outstanding; it’s like she was inside my head.

I skip articles about the sex tape scandal. Enzo briefed me when I landed. It’s not somewhere I want to go.

Finally, I find pictures of Harper on what looks like a university campus. Security is pushing her into a car. Her expression dead, as if her dreams had been snatched away.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

It’s dated two weeks before we met.

Then nothing. The headlines change to “Searching for the Missing Frazer.”

Shit!

She was alone and vulnerable in a strange city, with an ongoing threat to her life… and only Sophia for support! It’s not like Mother is the maternal type, even towards us, her own children.

Self-doubt niggles deep in my chest.

Was I a crutch?

Someone who was there at her lowest point? We only got together after her sister had been admitted to hospital.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Enzo asks, walking into the room and placing a mug of coffee on the desk next to me.

I sit back and close my eyes, exhaling deeply.

“The one thing I probably shouldn’t be doing,” I admit, my voice dejected.

There’s a creak as he lowers himself into the large leather chair opposite me.

“You know that’s not who she is,” he says.

Opening my eyes, I stare at my brother.

“Of course, my heart breaks for what she’s been through. But she didn’t trust me, Enzo.”

I sigh.

“Is Mother right? Would I have judged her?”

The thought isn’t sitting well with me.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“I should be fucking hard on myself! I’ve been in a relationship with her for four months… she trusted me with her body, but she didn’t feel she could trust me with the rest. And when the chips were down, I didn’t trust her enough either. I accused her of fucking stealing from me. I wouldn’t blame her if she never wants to see me again.”

I run a hand through my hair.

“Do you love her?”

“Yes,” I admit openly without thought. “More than I thought it possible to love another human being.”

“Have you told her?”

“No, I should have, but I didn’t want to pressure her, especially when she kept saying she wanted to keep our relationship a secret.” I rub my forehead. “Then there were the stolen designs. How the hell could I have imagined she would be involved in that?”

“Opening yourself up to someone is scary, especially when you’ve been burned before.”

I stare at him.

“Loretta hurt you when she left,” he adds.

“But can you blame her? I was a terrible husband,” I say, hating the reminder.

“None of us are perfect, Alex. You made a mistake, and you paid the price.”

“But that’s the crazy thing. I was in love with Loretta, but I didn’t feel a fraction of the intensity I feel for Brooke, and she doesn’t even exist.”

I look up to find Enzo watching me.

“You know Brooke and Harper are the same person, right?”

“Are they?”

“I’d say so. It’s almost impossible to wear a mask for nine months and be someone you’re not.”

“What are you talking about? She was Brooke Feldmann, not Harper Frazer. She clearly wasn’t herself.”

Enzo slaps his forehead.

He turns to the television on the wall where Harper’s press conference is frozen, her face front and centre. “Who do you see on the screen?”

I stare at Brooke, but she isn’t Brooke, not entirely.

“Do you know what I see?” he says.

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“I see a woman, shoulders back, chin up, armour in place. I see the youngest daughter of a wealthy family, behaving as she’s been reared to behave.”

“Reared? Surely you mean raised?”

“No, I mean reared, the same way we were. Moulded to fit our place in society.”

I sit back and take in his words, but he continues, a small smile gracing his lips.

“She’s the same woman who bought my daughter a journal and you a coffee warmer for Christmas. Played charades with our family. Someone who aspired to be the best replacement PA a man could want. Not because anyone was watching or judging, simply because…” He inclines his head. “If you ask me, Alex, you saw the real, unabridged version of Harper Frazer.” He pauses. “Think about what it means to be a Bianchi, what it would feel like to shed those chains.”

“I…” I open and close my mouth several times. “Fuck, little brother, when did you become so insightful?”

“Well, someone needs to be, before you let the best thing that has ever happened to you slip through your fingers.”

“She may not forgive me,” I say.

“She wrote you a letter. If she didn’t want contact, then she could have simply left. Let you find out her identity on the news.”

I run a hand down my face, gripping my lips and closing my eyes before inhaling.

I drop my hand. “What if she doesn’t want me now that she’s back with her family?”

“Life is full of what ifs. Maybe she will, maybe she won’t. But if you don’t ask, then you’ll spend the rest of your days wondering what might have been. Is that what you want?” He gets up and grips my shoulder. “Remember, sometimes the biggest risks offer the greatest rewards.”

“As I said before, who are you and what have you done with my brother?” I say, surprised at Enzo’s sudden insightfulness.

He smiles. “You can’t control everything, Alex, especially when other people’s emotions are at play. What you must decide is whether she’s worth it. Being Harper Frazer’s plus-one is not going to be easy. There’ll be a lot of scrutiny.”

“That’s not even a question.” I harrumph, making him smile.

“Then you know what you need to do.”

CHAPTER 74

ALEX

Iclose my eyes for a second before hitting the redial button, surprised when it doesn’t go straight to voicemail.

“Hello?” a male voice answers.

“Hi, is Brooke there? Sorry, I mean Harper. Is Harper there?”

“Who is this?”

“I could ask you the same question,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Well, it appears we’re at a standoff, so goodbye.”

“Wait. I’m sorry. My name is Alessandro Bianchi. I was— I am— Brooke’s… sorry, Harper’s boss in New York.”

“How do I know you are who you say you are?”

“Brooke was sent to my mother, Sophia Bianchi, in New York.”

There’s silence for a moment, and I hear mumbling in the background.

“Alessandro?” A woman’s voice comes over the line. “I’m Kat, Harper’s sister.”

“Kat, congratulations on your wedding,” I say, my upbringing coming to the forefront.

“Thank you,” she says. “You want to speak to Harper?”

“Is she there?” I ask. I’m now beginning to see what Brooke meant when she said her siblings are protective. “I flew in yesterday.”

“You’re in the UK?” she says.

“Yes, I’m at my brother’s in London. I got on a plane as soon as I read her letter,” I admit. “I saw yesterday’s press conference.”

“She’s currently sleeping. It’s been a tough week.”

“I can only imagine. Please, when she wakes up, can you tell her I called?”

“I can go one better than that. Come here, you can see her for yourself.”

“What? You’re inviting him here?” I hear a male voice say in the background.

“Keep quiet. This isn’t about you. Harper is a grown woman.”

There’s more grumbling.

Kat’s voice comes back over the phone. “Don’t come to the main entrance. We’re under siege by the press, as I’m sure you can imagine. Drive to Lofton House. A new road connects the two properties. Follow it to the gates that lead to our estate. We’ll buzz you through.”

* * *

“Mr Bianchi?” Anton, Enzo’s driver, asks, spinning in his seat to face me.

We find Lofton House and follow the new road. We’re now in front of a set of large metal gates. I get out of the car and press the intercom.

“Hello, how may I assist you?”

“Alessandro Bianchi for Ms Harper Frazer,” I say, hoping and praying Brooke… fuck, Harper, has not decided I’m part of her life she’d rather forget.

“Follow the road around, and it will lead you to the main house,” the voice says. “Someone will come out to greet you.”

I can’t read much from the voice, so I get back into the car. I’m not being turned away, so that must be a good sign. It’s been two hours since we left London.

The gates open, and Anton follows the road through beautiful grounds. Harper must have been so homesick. New York, even where my mother lives, has nothing on this. He drives us to the base of large stone steps.

A woman my mother’s age appears at the front door.

Francesca Frazer, Harper’s mother, the woman who was sat next to her during yesterday’s press conference.

Enzo and I exit the car and make our way towards her.

“Alessandro,” she says, holding out her hand, which I accept. “I’m Francesca Frazer, Harper’s mother. Welcome to my home.”

“Thank you, Mrs Frazer,” I reply. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. This is my brother Enzo.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs Frazer,” he says.

Francesca inclines her head, staring at both my brother and me.

“You’re both the spitting image of your father,” she says. “Sometimes fate really does have a strange sense of humour.”

She turns on her heel and heads back towards the house.

Enzo shoots me a look, one eyebrow raised.

“I’ll explain later,” I say, realising I haven’t updated him on the connection between our families.

We follow Francesca as she makes her way towards the house. Stopping, she turns to face us.

“A word of warning. The whole family is in residence. After the story broke, we decided it was safer to have everyone stay here,” she adds. “And they’ve been waiting to see their sister.”

Harper’s siblings are in town? Fuck, she warned me before that they’re protective.

But it depends on what, if anything, she’s told them about us.

I nod in acknowledgement. “If Gabbi had been in Harper’s position, Enzo and I would have reacted the same.”

“Ah, young Gabriella, how is your sister?”

“She’s with our father in Italy,” I say, surprised at how much Francesca Frazer knows about my siblings and me. But then after what Mother told me before I left, I shouldn’t be surprised. They were obviously very close at one point.

“Come this way. I’ll get Betsy to make us some tea.”

We follow her up the stone steps, entering an enormous hallway. This is a traditional house, nothing like Mother’s. It has stood here for centuries.

If only walls could speak, the history and secrets they could tell.

“Follow me,” she says.

We enter what I’m assuming is a drawing room.

“Everyone, this is Alessandro Bianchi, and his brother Enzo,” she says.

Three giant men jump up and turn to face me.

I square my shoulders.

These must be the brothers.

The largest cradles a tiny baby in his arms. Elijah. I recognise him from school.

“Please call me Alex,” I say.

They continue to stare.

“A long way for a boss to come?” one of two identical faces says to me.

“Harper left me a letter, explaining everything. I wanted to check she was okay,” I say, not sure how much her siblings know about us.

“As he said, quite the dedication to your PA,” Elijah says, rocking the child in his arms as it begins to grizzle.

“She’s a great PA,” Enzo says.

I want to groan.

A woman steps forward, one I instantly recognise as Kathryn Frazer, head of the Frazer Hotel Group. Brooke’s older sister.

“Hi Alex, Enzo, I’m Kat. We spoke on the phone. Why don’t you come in and join us?”

“Pleased to meet you, Kat. Congratulations again on your wedding,” I say. “Harper was devastated when she couldn’t attend.”

Another man steps forward and holds out his hand. “I’m Jaxson, Kat’s husband.”

I shake it as Kat turns to face her brothers, ignoring their scowls. “This is Elijah, his fiancée Pen, and their daughter Amelia,” she says. “Lottie is around somewhere with my mother’s puppy.”

She turns slightly. “This is Gabriel and Leah, and over there are Caleb and April.”

It was Caleb I spoke to earlier.

The twins are identical. Even their scowls match, making me wonder how their wives tell them apart.

“Pleased to meet you all,” I say, forcing my shoulders back and slowing my breathing.

“Why are you here?” Caleb says. “Does he know?”

April elbows him in the side, and I wonder what he was about to say.

“Ow,” he says. “He might⁠—”

She shoots him a look that has him closing his mouth.

The door behind us opens and there is no missing the audible gasp.

“Alex? Enzo? What are you doing here?” Brooke says, with a slight quiver.

I spin on the spot, taking in the woman before me. My chest expands as I drink her in. She’s the same, yet different. Gone is much of the makeup she always wore. She was beautiful before, but now she is breathtaking.

I take a step towards her, a knot suddenly forming in my stomach.

“Where else would I be?”

Her hand flies to her mouth as she lets out a half-sob, before throwing herself at me. I catch her and bury my head in her neck, loving the feel of her in my arms as she grips me tightly.

There are numerous growls behind us, but I ignore them.

“Is he—” a male voice says.

“I think it’s time we all went for a walk,” Kat says. “Everybody out. Harper and Alex clearly need to talk…without an audience.”

There are grumbles, but I sense movement around us and open my eyes to see Kat and Penelope Dawson herding Harper’s brothers out of the room with their respective wives.

“We’ll be just outside, if you need us,” Gabriel says, looking at Harper before shooting me a look that tells me if I hurt his sister, he’s likely to string me up.

“Harper?”

Kat comes to stand next to her sister, whose head is still buried against me.

Harper turns her head, resting her cheek against my chest and smiling.

“We’ll be fine,” she says.

Kat pats her arm before following the rest of them out of the room.

“I think it’s time we had some tea,” Francesca’s voice cuts in. “Enzo, why don’t you come with me. Betsy has just finished baking scones.”

“My favourite,” Enzo says, squeezing my shoulder as he leaves.

I pull back, gently holding Harper’s upper arms.

Her skin is pale, her face gaunt, her normally glossy hair limp. She looks like she’s lost even more weight.

“Harper,” I say, pulling her towards me once again, needing her close.

She gives me a weak smile. “That’s me,” she says. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. Mitch delivered your letter.”

Her eyes glisten, and I cup her cheek.

“Hey, it’s okay. I get it. I just wish you felt you could trust me.”

She bites her lip, a single tear tracking its way down her cheek.

“I wanted to… I came so close, but…”

“It’s okay, Mother explained.”

* * *

She motions to the sofa.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

I shake my head, not wanting polite society Harper. I’m beginning to wonder if Enzo is right, and Brooke is the real Harper underneath.

“You need to sit down before you fall down,” I say, slightly more sharply than I intend.

Harper ignores me and makes her way to one of the sofas. I frown, unhappy with the distance she’s put between us.

“Brooke… sorry, Harper.” I run a hand down my face. “It’s going to take a while to get used to calling you Harper.”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she says.

“I’m here to say… Fuck, Brooke. I’m so sorry. I know it wasn’t you. I don’t know what I was thinking. You should be raking me over the coals right now. I came to see you, but you’d already left. I saw Mitch, and he handed me your letter⁠—”

She inclines her head.

“I’m sorry too. I should have told you about night school, but I thought you’d think I was like all those other women, the ones you said were using you.”

I smile and move towards her, taking her hand in mine. “I don’t think I would ever have thought that. Besides, you started it after you came to work for me.”

“True, but as you can imagine, telling the truth has been difficult and something I’ve had to navigate carefully. One slip and I was warned that my life and the lives of others could be in danger.”

“Hey, it’s over now. From what I saw last night on the news, they have the guy.”

She sighs. “Maybe, but who knows after he lawyers up. I’ve been told he’s going to be denied bail, as he’s deemed a flight risk due to his immense wealth and connections. According to the powers that be, they have enough evidence, as well as an accomplice who has agreed to testify against him, but until he’s locked up and behind bars… part of me wants to celebrate… finally justice for Dad, but a part of me won’t believe it until he is locked up and they’ve thrown away the key. I’ve been told to trust in the justice system, but we all know it’s not that simple.”

She drops her gaze, her shoulders slumping.

I tilt her chin with my finger, waiting until she looks at me.

“You’re talking about the sex tape.”

She flinches as if I’ve slapped her.

“Brooke…sorry, Harper.”

She sucks in a shuddering breath. “You don’t know me,” she says, and I can sense her pulling away. “You know sensible Brooke, not rebellious Harper.”

“Are you sure about that?”

She shakes her head, another tear escaping. This is not the woman who has stood toe to toe with me over the past few months and turned my life upside down. I move my head until she meets my gaze again.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re not the woman I have come to know and love?” I ask.

She lets out a sob, and I cradle her face in both my hands as she bites her lip.

“Please don’t,” she whimpers. “You love Brooke,” she says, her face crumbling, as if saying those words causes her physical pain.

I move, dropping to my knees in front of her.

“Are you telling me you aren’t Brooke? That you haven’t worked for me for the past nine months, slept next to me for four of those?”

A wrinkle forms between her brows.

“I’m Harper, not Brooke. Brooke was a figment of someone’s imagination, a made-up persona,” she says, her eyes radiating loss.

I incline my head and smile.

“Can I tell you what I think?” I say, smoothing her hair back from her face, and tucking it behind her ear. “I think Brooke is Harper Frazer without the chains of her position. Everyone has two personas, and some have even more. Brooke is you, and you are Brooke. Harper is also you. She’s been raised to follow the rules and behave in a certain way.”

Harper lets out a bleak, sharp laugh.

“I’m not sure about the rule following. There’s a reason my sister calls me Rebel.”

“I know. I’ve seen the photographs.” I chuckle, running the back of a finger down her cheek. “The makeup and hair were quite a statement.”

She groans and buries her head in her hands.

I lift her chin, adding pressure until her gaze returns to mine.

“Tell me Brooke isn’t Harper, and if that’s what you want, I’ll leave,” I say, the words turning my stomach as I speak them aloud.

“But you don’t know Harper? You don’t know the real me.”

I sit back. “Can I ask you a question?”

She nods, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“If I went out there and spoke to your brothers, Kat, your mum and told them about Brooke… the Brooke I got to know and love. The woman who everyone in the office admires and respects, who loves Night at the Museum and old musicals, drinks far more coffee than is good for her⁠—”

“That’s a family trait, and I’m not the only one who does,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“Point taken. We are a bad combination. But what I’m asking is, would they recognise her?”

“I—”

I take her hand and give it a squeeze, interlocking our fingers. “Let me ask you this. The Alex Bianchi you saw in Italy, at Christmas surrounded by family and friends, the man you have spent time with, would you agree he is a very different man from Alessandro Bianchi, the CEO of St Clair, the man you worked with every day?”

She moves my hand to her lips and places a kiss against my palm, making my throat thicken.

“What I’m saying is, I’m the same person. I just have a different persona depending on the role I’m in.”

“But I was Brooke, not Harper. My CV was a lie. Everything about me was a lie.”

I laugh.

“I did question how someone so ordinary could be so extraordinary, but academic success and practical achievements can be different. Elise is a prime example of that. I was also not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, not after Callie left.”

“But that’s it. I was a straight-A student. Another lie.”

I shake my head.

“It’s a piece of paper. What I suspect is that the woman I’ve come to love is the Harper I knew in Italy and at Christmas. The woman I came home to every night, who makes me laugh… makes me feel more than any woman ever has.”

She closes her eyes.

“Which version of me do you love, Harper? Alex, the son, brother, friend, lover. Or, Alessandro Bianchi, the CEO?”

“I love all of you,” she says, her eyes staring at me. “So much it physically hurts.”

I drag her off the couch and into my lap. She comes willingly, wrapping herself around me.

“There is so much we need to learn about one another,” she says.

She closes her eyes, and I kiss away the tear that is tracking its way down her cheek.

“I admit I have yet to get to know everything about Harper, but I have a sneaky suspicion I’m going to love her as much as I love Brooke.”

Harper leans forward, her mouth meeting mine, her hands snaking around my neck.

My body relaxes, loving the feel of her back in my arms.

How I’ve missed her.

I groan. “I wish I could teleport us somewhere,” I say.

She pulls back and grins up at me.

“Me too. I can’t believe you’re here. Who’s running St Clair? Oh my God, what about the stolen designs? Alex, you can’t be here.”

“I can, and I am. St Clair can live without me for a couple of days.”

She pulls back sharply, raising an eyebrow.

“Excuse me, who are you and what have you done with the real Alessandro Bianchi?”

“The real Alessandro Bianchi fell in love with his bossy PA and realised some things in life are more important. The company will survive without me. Besides, Mother is holding down the fort while I’m here with you. As for the design thief, Elise unmasked them using a trap with your designs. Designs that are⁠—”

“Sophia knows about us?”

Harper opens and closes her mouth.

I chuckle. “Out of everything I just said, my mother is the only thing you picked up on?”

“The thief was caught. How? When?”

I tap her nose, and she smiles. “See how much you miss in only a few days. The thief was caught thanks to Elise’s little trap.”

“Who was it?”

I inhale, exhaling loudly. “Nolan.”

“Nolan? Poor Elise. He was her friend,” she says. “I’ll call her.”

I smile, earning myself a confused look.

“That’s definitely something Brooke would do.”

Harper sighs and snuggles into my chest the way she’s always done. Having her in my arms again is like coming home.

“I’ve missed this,” she says.

“Your family look pleased you’re home,” I say, thinking about how her brothers jumped to her defence.

I know I would be no different if it were Gabbi. I wonder how they feel after their sister launched herself at me. It was clear we were more than boss and PA.

She looks up at me.

“They are. For all the anguish I’ve caused them over the years, I think they actually missed me,” Harper says, mirth in her voice. She wraps her arms around my waist, her eyes locking on mine. “Did Elijah growl and Caleb glare before I arrived?”

I shrug, and she barks out a laugh.

“Don’t worry, they’re kittens really.”

I manoeuvre us back onto the couch.

“I know about your past. I read those articles… do you know what I thought?”

She shakes her head.

“I thought this is bullshit. You survived losing your father, had to deal with the press and public sticking their noses into your private grief.”

She lets out a sob, which she tries to swallow, so I cup her face.

“I’ve seen the pictures of you at the funeral. Their invasion of your privacy. I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like to be seventeen and trying to handle that kind of grief and scrutiny.”

Her eyes begin to water, and my throat tightens in response.

“But that’s the thing. I didn’t handle it. After he died, I couldn’t take the constant comments, sympathetic looks. I went off the rails… partied all the time… never allowed myself to stop long enough to remember…”

“I think you’re being hard on yourself. Some would have gone a lot further than you did. What I saw was a young woman deflecting attention from her grief. Tell me I’m wrong?”

I use my thumb to catch the tear making its way down her cheek.

“He was coming to get me, after telling me not to go…” she whispers.

CHAPTER 75

HARPER

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER

“You’re not going, that’s final,” Dad says, his tone telling me this is not up for debate.

“What the hell, Dad? It’s the end of term, the end of the school year. It’s been planned for months.”

He takes a moment, his shoulders dipping, before he straightens them.

My heart sinks.

“It’s not a good idea. End of term, all that drinking, drugs…”

I harrumph.

“So, you don’t trust me,” I say, watching him flinch. “You don’t think I’m mature or smart enough to know what I’m doing? You think I’ll be a sheep and follow the flock?”

He straightens his shirt. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. I know you’re responsible. You’ve never given your mother or me a moment of trouble, but, Harper…”

I don’t wait to hear what else he has to say. I storm up the stairs. How am I going to live this down? Everyone who is anyone in our year group will be there… Jasper Peregrine himself, invited me.

“She’s been looking forward to that party,” Mum says as I round the corner.

“I know,” Dad replies. “But Fran, there’ll be other parties.”

Mum and Dad never usually say no, not without good reason. Does he fear I’m going to get drunk, have sex… trash the rest of my life?

I pull out my phone and message Carolyn and Becca.

ME:

I have to cancel. Dad won’t let me go.

CAROLYN:

Are you kidding?

BECCA:

But it’s Jasper’s party. He invited you. This is your chance.

ME:

I know. You’d think I was seven, not seventeen, the way he’s treating me. I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks.

The word gutted doesn’t even come close. I throw myself back on my bed and stare at the canopy of my four-poster. I’ve had a crush on Jasper Peregrine since year eight, and he personally invited me to his party. He’s barely said two words to me the whole time we’ve been at school together, me being a bit of a nerd and him being… well, Jasper.

BECCA:

Can you sneak out? Tell them you’re going to bed early. I can pick you up at the end of the road.

CAROLYN:

Please, H. We’ve been planning our outfits for what seems like forever. It’s going to be the party everyone talks about when we’re in our eighties. And Jasper. You know Bernice has been desperate to sink her claws into him.

BECCA:

Bernice is a slag.

CAROLYN:

And Jasper is a hormonal teenage boy. I don’t think he’ll care.

My stomach drops. I’ve never gone against Mum and Dad’s wishes, but I’m not a baby. Even Dad said I’ve never given them a moment of trouble, unlike Caleb, who was always getting up to mischief with his friends when he was my age.

ME:

Okay, message me when you are nearby, and I’ll get changed in the car.

CAROLYN:

Yay!

BECCA:

See you later.

Sneaking out is less problematic than I assumed. Dad and Mum have given me a wide berth. Slamming my bedroom door a couple of times for effect also helped, although I must admit, I don’t feel good about it. I’ve never been that person. It goes against everything I’ve been raised to believe in, but it’s too late now. I’ve made my choice. From here on in, it’s not a case of asking for permission, but me begging for forgiveness once I’ve proved to him that he had nothing to worry about.

Alex sits and listens as I disappear into my memories of that night and the days that followed. As I relay the story of what happened, I begin to realise Carolyn probably saved my life that night. If she hadn’t been ill, Montague’s goons might have spirited me away.

“What happened?” Alex asks.

It’s light when Gabriel arrives. There’s a look on his face I’ve never seen before, and he looks pale.

“Where’s Dad?”

Shit, I must be in real trouble if Dad hasn’t come. The party ended hours ago.

“Come on,” he says, his voice catching. “I’m here to take you both home.”

He scoops a still-sick Carolyn off the floor and carries her to his car. He drives in silence, his hands gripping the wheel, his knuckles white. My stomach turns over at the thought of the bollocking I’m about to face. He leaves me in the car while he speaks to Carolyn’s mother, who ushers her inside, glaring at me before she closes the door.

He gets back into the car and his shoulders slump.

“How much trouble am I in?” I ask, staring out of the windscreen.

I watch my brother tilt his head back and close his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I know it was a stupid thing to do,” I say, hoping he understands.

He turns his head, his eyes glistening.

“I’m sorry, Harps,” he says.

I frown. “What are you sorry about? Gabe, what’s going on? Why didn’t Dad come and get me?”

A fluttering starts deep in my chest, strengthening with each passing second.

“It’s Dad. There’s been an accident.”

I stare at him, my head shaking from side to side.

“But he’s okay?” I say, but the pressure in my chest and the tears that are now tracking their way down his cheeks tell me otherwise.

“We need to get home,” he says, moving to start the car.

I catch his hand in mine.

“No, tell me.”

He stops, wiping his face with his palms.

“Please,” I say.

“Dad.”

“Dad what? Where is he?” I say, my whole body going cold.

“Dad’s dead, Harper.”

I draw in a breath, but it doesn’t reach my lungs. Instead, it feels like I’m suffocating.

Gabe grabs my cheeks. “Harper, you need to breathe… fuck.”

I open and close my mouth, but nothing helps, the pressure of the outside world too harsh.

Gabe lightly slaps my cheek. It burns, and I inhale sharply, before I begin to cough, and finally give way to the sobs.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, pulling me into his arms.

“No, no, no,” I say. “He can’t be.”

By the time we arrive home, Gabe has explained that Dad was on his way to collect me when a drunk driver ran him off the road and into a tree, killing him instantly.

Mum rushes out to meet us, her face blotchy, her eyes red from crying. She pulls me into her arms, but I’m numb. It’s as if a cold chill has enveloped my body and frozen all my emotions.

“Thank God you’re safe,” she whispers against my hair.

Later, we go to visit him at the chapel of rest. The closer we get to the room, the worse the pain becomes. It’s as if something inside me has snapped. It feels like hands are locked around my throat, strangling me. By the time we reach the door, my body gives out and I collapse on the floor, my body numb, spots dancing before my eyes.

“Harper?”

Mum clasps my face in her hands. “Harper, you need to breathe, my darling.”

I try, drawing in one shuddering breath after another, but the overwhelming sense of dread that’s consuming me has me bent double as I’m racked with invisible pain.

It’s Elijah who scoops me up and holds me, grounding me within his enormous embrace, blocking out the world and cocooning me.

He cradles my head, his heartbeat strong beneath my ear, showing me that, even though my world feels like it’s ended, he is here for me.

I look up at him, shaking my head frantically, my eyes refilling with tears. It’s as if now they’ve started, they’ll never stop.

“I can’t,” I whisper. “I can’t.”

Mum moves behind me, encasing me from behind.

“It’s okay. If you can’t, you shouldn’t,” she says. “You stay here, and if you change your mind…”

Elijah and Mum let me go, guiding me to a nearby chair, as they all disappear into the room that holds my father.

I sit there in the silence. I have no right to be in there with them. If it wasn’t for me, he would still be here, hugging Mum, slapping Eli on the back. Because of me, he’s gone. If I hadn’t acted like an immature child, he would never have been on the road last night. How can they even stand to look at me?

Alex pulls me hard against him as if trying to absorb my pain as I relive the worst moment of my life. I go willingly.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says, brushing his lips against my hair, holding me the way he did the night Kat was rushed into hospital.

“I know that now, but for years, I blamed myself… lived with all the what-if’s…”

“You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, especially after what you’ve been through over the past nine months.”

I pull back, running a hand over my cheeks.

I flinch. “You said you read articles. You’ve seen the tape?” I ask, unable to meet his gaze.

He shakes his head, my eyes locking with his. “They were fake, a cruel manipulation by sick individuals. You were a virgin when we first slept together and even if you hadn’t been, I would refuse to give them airtime.”

“But they’re going to follow me around like a bad smell for the rest of my life,” I say, wanting him to realise what loving me means.

“I know you, Harper Frazer, and that delectable body of yours.”

“My middle name is Brooke,” I admit.

He returns my smile, and I wonder how I got so lucky. “I know that too, although going forward maybe we can try whole truths, no more half-truths.”

He clasps my chin in his hand. His eyes sparkle, and I then realise I’m not wearing my green contacts.

“And my favourite colour is chocolate brown,” he says.

“Is it now?” I say with sass. “I’m still mad you think I’d steal from you,” I say. “Of all the things.”

“And you can be, as long as you give me the chance to make it up to you.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you more than I wanted to admit even to myself, and after you left… I never want to feel that way again. It was like the bottom had been ripped out of my world.”

“But…”

“I was scared, Harper. I may be thirty-nine, but when you came into my life, you turned it upside down. I’m too old for you, and I still don’t think I’m wrong about that. You worked for me. We’re at different stages in our lives. You should be going out and partying. I’ve done all that. You need to be able to⁠—”

I laugh, genuinely laugh. “Me partying… Believe me, Alex, I’ve done enough partying to last me a lifetime. I don’t care if I never attend another party ever again. Charity events are about as much as I can manage these days, and that’s mainly because I have zero choice in the matter, being a Frazer.”

There is a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I say, surprised my siblings have managed to restrain themselves until now.

Kat enters carrying a tray of drinks.

“Harper mentioned you like coffee, so I took the initiative. If you’d prefer tea, I can make you some.”

“Coffee’s great, thank you,” he says.

Kat places the tray on the coffee table. “Betsy sent in some toast,” she says, shooting me a look I know Alex won’t miss.

“Tell her thank you,” I say.

She leaves without another word, closing the door softly behind her.

“Before I forget…” He digs in his pocket. “Mother gave me this to return to you.”

I gasp. “My necklace.”

He unclasps it, and I turn so he can place it around my neck. I left my St Clair pendant with Mitch for him to return with my clothes.

“Thank you,” I say, turning back to face him. My hand closing around the ruby.

I inhale deeply. “I have something to tell you. The physician I saw before I left⁠—”

His brows furrow. “Are you all right?”

“I want no more lies or half-truths between us,” I say, taking his hand in mine. “He left a message which I only got after I arrived here. The nausea, my sickness… I’m pregnant.”

CHAPTER 76

ALEX

Istare at Harper, open-mouthed.

“I’m not expecting anything from you, but I want you to know.”

I snap my mouth closed, my eyes wide.

“Pregnant?”

“I know, I’m as shocked as you. We’ve always been so careful, but apparently accidents happen.”

“I’m shocked, yes. But Harper, how do you feel?”

She inclines her head and stares at me.

“It wasn’t what I planned, but now…”

Her hands drop to her flat stomach, covering it in a protective gesture.

I smile.

“We’re having a baby?”

Her eyes meet mine in surprise.

She nods. “We’re having a baby.”

I pull her back into my arms, my mouth meeting hers.

“Oh shit,” I say. “I take it your brothers, sister, and mother know?”

“They do,” she says with a smirk. “Until you arrived, they had no idea who the father was. Your identity was a secret.”

I quirk a brow. “I’m not so sure. I have a strong suspicion your sister had an inkling. When she found out I was in England, she couldn’t get me here fast enough.”

She smiles. “That’s Kat for you.”

“When we walk out of here, is my life going to be in danger?”

“They wouldn’t dare. I might be the baby of the family, but I’m feisty. They know better.”

“It’s that feistiness that I love.”

I rest a hand over hers.

“I can’t believe we’re having a baby.”

“We have a lot to discuss,” she says. “Our worlds are different, but also very similar. We both have responsibilities.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way. I love you, Harper Frazer. We will find a way to make us work.”

“I love you too. Are you ready to face my family?”

“Absolutely.”

* * *

I’m surprised that when we leave the room, there’s no welcoming committee. Instead, the hallway is empty. We hear laughter coming from across the hall.

“Diana, no!” A young woman shrieks. “Enzo does not need a kiss.”

My brother’s laughter fills the air.

“That bloody dog,” a male voice says.

“That’s Eli,” Harper says. “He’s struggling with Mum’s latest project.”

“What’s her project?”

“A Hungarian Vizsla that Lottie named Diana after Wonder Woman.”

Before I can say anything, a ruby-red furball comes flying out of one of the doors and heads straight for us.

“Diana, no,” Harper says firmly. “Sit.”

The dog pauses and drops her hindquarters onto the tiled floor, in a perfect, incredibly elegant sit.

“Stay,” she says. “Good girl.”

The tip of Diana’s tail wags, beating the floor as she wrinkles her nose, flashing me a mouthful of perfect white teeth.

“What’s she doing?” I ask quietly, not wanting to break the moment.

Harper turns her head.

“She’s smiling at you,” she says with her own grin. “She clearly has great taste.”

The dog whines.

“I’ve not been around many dogs, what with boarding school.”

“She’s harmless, just a little excitable. She loves everyone.”

“Wow, Aunty Harps, you really do have her under control.”

“It’s all in the tone, Lottie,” Harper says, moving towards the dog and placing a hand on Diana’s head before rubbing her ears. She gives another command, and the dog circles her legs. Harper bends down and catches Diana’s face, dropping a kiss on her nose.

“Good girl,” she says, earning another smile.

“She’s been mugging Enzo,” Lottie says, and I can’t hide my smirk. She looks past her aunt to me. “You must be Alex. I’m Lottie. Elijah’s eldest daughter.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lottie,” I say.

“Where is everyone?” Harper asks.

“In the kitchen. Betsy’s keeping everyone fed and watered.” She winks at her aunt, who laughs.

“That’s code for keeping my brothers happy with her baked goods.”

“Oh,” I say.

Harper takes my hand in hers and squeezes.

“Come on, let’s go and see if they’ve left us anything.”

* * *

We enter an enormous kitchen and find Harper’s mother, her siblings and their wives, and my brother sitting around the kitchen island.

“Come on in. We’ve saved you some,” April says when her gaze lands on us.

Harper’s brothers turn and scowl, but their shoulders relax when she slides her hand around my waist and I mirror the gesture.

“These are so good,” Enzo says.

I roll my eyes.

“Everyone, I’d like to officially introduce you to Alessandro Bianchi. My boss, my baby daddy and the love of my life.”

Enzo chokes on the food he has just shoved into his mouth.

Caleb smacks him on the back.

“Baby daddy?” he says, his eyes flying between us. “Really?”

Harper grins at him and nods before holding up her hand. “You will not growl, you will be polite, and you will welcome him into our family. If you don’t, I shall kick your arses.”

“You can try, you little whippersnapper,” Caleb says.

“And I will succeed.”

“Well, if that’s the case, you better come and sit down and tell us how you two met,” Elijah says.

Kat, standing beside him, squeezes his arm, and I realise it’s probably taken a lot for Harper’s elder brother not to kick my arse.

Harper looks up at me and leads me to the two free stools.

“Well…”

CHAPTER 77

HARPER

Isit in my favourite window seat and stare out over the garden.

Alex has just left with Enzo. He’s coming back tomorrow, wanting to give me time with my family.

I’ve fallen in love with him, but I’ve not allowed myself to admit it until now because I was too scared to think about what it meant. Brooke knew, but she’s no longer in the picture. She’s gone, relegated to a moment in time. I’m all Harper again, and I have other responsibilities.

“How are you doing?” Elijah says, coming up to stand next to me.

To others, his size is intimidating. To me, he’s simply my big brother. The same big brother who used to throw me up in the air, play hide-and-seek in the gardens and give me piggyback rides.

“Honestly?”

He nods.

“I’m lost, Eli. As Brooke, I knew who I was and could be myself. I held down a normal job, made friends without strings attached and even fell in love. But as Harper… all those insecurities from my past, they’re back, and I’m not sure what to do with them.”

I draw my legs up, and he sits down next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me against his enormous chest.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

I laugh.

“When have you ever asked?”

His arm tightens for a moment.

“Are you in love with Alex Bianchi?”

I nod, my throat thickening as I finally admit the truth to someone other than Alex and myself.

We sit in silence.

“Was he the kind of man you’d have brought home to meet us if all this hadn’t happened?”

I nod again. “But I’m scared. Our entire relationship was built on lies, deceit and, at best, half-truths.” I rub my eyes before looking up at him. “You of all people know the damage that causes. What happens if every time we argue, he throws it back in my face? He says none of it matters, but what if, once he’s had time for everything to sink in, he finds it does?”

“Does he love you?”

“He says he does.”

“But you don’t believe him?”

“That’s the weird thing. I totally believe him. He’s an amazing man.”

Eli frowns. “Then what’s the problem?”

“What if love isn’t enough? What if he decides my past is… too much? His reputation is everything. He’s the CEO of a luxury brand.”

“And you’re Harper Frazer!”

“I wish he’d never said those words. Then I’d never know the full extent of what I’m losing when he comes to his senses,” I say.

“But why do you think you’re going to lose him?”

I sigh.

“Let me ask you something. How much of Brooke was Harper? I mean the real Harper? Not Harper Frazer, but Harper the woman?”

“You make it sound like they’re the same person,” I say, my brows furrowing.

“That’s because they are.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, turning slightly and putting a little distance between us.

“Harper Frazer is the mask you’ve worn since you became aware of this family’s standing. She’s the woman who studied hard, behaved a certain way…”

I bark out a laugh, raising my eyebrows.

“It’s strange. Alex practically said the same thing.”

“And you don’t believe him?”

“I don’t know, I think you’ve got Harper Frazer muddled up with Kat. Don’t you remember the rebel Frazer, the one who was in the press every weekend? Creating havoc?”

Eli shakes his head.

“I’m not talking about the other mask you donned after Dad died, the one you used to conceal your inner turmoil and pain.”

I swallow past the lump.

How does he know?

“Don’t look at me like that. We all knew what you were doing, and we wanted to help, but as your family, we also knew you had to work through your demons. You’re smart, resourceful, independent and focused. The Rebel Harper was exactly that, a persona designed to mask your pain.”

I flinch.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

He smiles, and I realise the stress he wore like a mask is gone. The man sitting next to me is the man he would have been had Darra never existed.

“What I’m trying to say is, don’t underestimate yourself. Brooke is you, and you are Brooke, you are also Harper. Alex Bianchi probably knows the real Harper Frazer better than any of us. He got to know the unfiltered, unmasked version of the woman you are.”

“He said the same thing.”

My gaze drops to the floor as I take in his words.

Is it possible?

Is Brooke the person I would be without my last name? If it hadn’t been for the stress of the situation, I would have been more open, gone out for coffee with my new friends, gone to dinner and held hands with my boyfriend in public.

“He sounds like a sensible man.”

“But Eli, you of all people know how dangerous it is to get into a long-term relationship because of a baby.”

Eli shrugs. “That’s a completely different argument. And let me say, there’s one major difference between your situation and mine. I never loved Darra, not the way I should have or needed to. I was young and in lust, and she was always there. I’m not sure if you remember, but we’d split up before she announced she was pregnant with Lottie. I’d already called time on our relationship, knowing there was no future.”

“But what if Alex⁠—”

“He’s not a child, Harper. He’s a grown-arse man, older than me,” he says, his lips twisting. “But we won’t dwell on that. From what you’ve said, he wants to get to know you, the real you. Relationships take time and effort. And if the worst happens and it doesn’t work out, he can still be a father to this child without you being together. I’m not saying it will be easy, but it can be done.”

I rest my cheek against the cold glass of the window and stare out at the flower-filled garden.

“If it helps, when Pen told me she was pregnant, I was over the moon. I’d have flown halfway around the world and begged her to come back to me. I couldn’t wait to bring a child into the world with the woman I love. That’s the difference when you truly care for someone. And Alex came all this way without knowing. He came for you.”

He grips my shoulder, squeezing gently before standing up.

“Whatever happens, Harper, you have a family here who loves you and will love and welcome your baby. You’re not alone in this, and you never will be. We’ll all support any decision you make.” He smiles. “I hate to say it, but Alex seems like a good guy.”

I rise onto my knees and throw my arms around him.

“When did you get so wise?” I sob into his chest.

“Hey, I’ve always been wise,” he says, prompting me to pull back and stare up at him. “Okay, okay, maybe not always. It happened when I pulled my head out of my arse and opened my eyes, letting a wonderful woman in.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Anytime, kiddo.”

CHAPTER 78

ALEX

Caleb and April’s house is stunning, or at least will be when all the renovations are complete. Apparently, the builders are on holiday, so we have the place to ourselves. Harper decided she wanted to be away from her siblings so we could talk.

I’m apprehensive. We spoke, and they seemed to accept me, but there are aspects of our relationship they may decide they don’t want for their younger sister.

The front door is open when I arrive, so I knock and enter.

Harper is inside, staring up at the mezzanine balcony and sweeping staircase.

“It’s going to be beautiful when it’s finished,” she says, turning to face me with a smile. “It existed only on a piece of paper when I left. So much has changed.”

Her tone is wistful, but I can sense her underlying pain.

I move to stand next to her. My heart is speeding up.

“Harper?”

She slides her hand into mine, interlacing our fingers.

“I don’t know what the future holds. I should have trusted in us enough to tell you the truth. I’m sorry, Alex.” She pauses.

I take her other hand in mine and stare down at the woman I love. A woman I don’t want to live without.

“You need to stop apologising. I get it. Do I like the fact that we had to meet under these circumstances? Hell no, but that has nothing to do with you or my feelings.”

She inclines her head, her eyes scanning my face.

I let go of her hand and slide mine into her hair, dropping my forehead to hers.

“We deserve to see where this thing between us leads. I’m fed up with fighting what I feel when I’m around you. When I said ‘I love you’ yesterday, I meant it. But I know a lasting relationship requires more than just feelings. It’s going to take time as we get to know each other with no barriers.”

She nods and smiles. I rub my thumb over her cheek, pleased to see she looks less pale today. Being around her family is clearly good for her health. Something twists in my gut. Can I take her away from those she loves the most in the world and ask her to come with me?

“How are you feeling today?”

She places a hand over her stomach, moving mine to cover hers.

“Nauseous, but it’s more of a sensation than an actual need to be sick, thank goodness.”

I bend and place my lips against hers. She kisses me back, and something expands in my chest. When she finally pulls away, she looks up at me.

“If we do this, there needs to be transparency between us. I promise no more secrets, and I want you to do the same.”

“Done,” I say.

“I haven’t finished yet. I need autonomy. I want control over my life, Alex. I want the right to return to the UK and my family with our child if things don’t work out between us.”

My pulse kicks.

Is she saying what I think she’s saying?

“I’ll never stop you from seeing our child, but I’m not being stranded in a country that’s not my home because I gave our relationship a chance.”

“Done,” I say. “Does this mean⁠—”

“I know it’s impossible for you to leave the US, and for us to stand a chance, one of us needs to compromise. I’m happy for that to be me. It’s where we met after all. I would also like to continue working. I love St Clair.”

I stare at her, not quite believing what I’m hearing.

“I thought you’d want to stay here with your family.”

She grins, her eyes twinkling. “I love my family, but I also loved the freedom I had in New York. I know that might change now my identity has come out, but being Brooke showed me what I can be. The Frazers are not a household name in the US, so I should be able to live a normal life.”

I pull her against me when she places a hand on my chest.

“And I won’t marry you,” she says, knocking the wind out of my sails. “I’ve seen first-hand what a baby and a marriage can do to a couple. I’m not willing to do that to either you, me or our child. If we stay together, we do it by choice, not because we’re forced into it.”

I stare at her for a moment, my stomach clenching. I have never wanted anything more than to make this woman my wife, but I also understand where she’s coming from.

“Deal. If that’s the way you want it, I’m not going to protest. With your family connections, I can’t imagine you’ll have trouble obtaining a new work permit and visa,” I say, hoping I’m right.

Green cards are like gold dust. It may help if our child is born a US citizen, but both Harper and I were born in the UK. A problem for another day.

“I only have one stipulation. If you ever change your mind and decide you would like to marry me, I want you to agree that you’ll propose to me.”

“Deal,” she says with a grin.

It’s only then that I realise, with her hair and makeup, she looks like the Harper I knew as Brooke. Only her eyes are chocolate brown.

“You changed your hair colour back?” I say, running some of the burgundy strands through my fingers.

“If it’s possible, I want to return to work as Brooke and resume our life there, no external pressures, no salacious gossip, at least for as long as possible.”

“The company NDA can cover that. I think everyone will be happy to keep your secret.”

I pull her into my arms, happy when she comes willingly.

“Will you at least move in with me? You can sleep in a different room. I’m not going to put pressure on you until you’re ready, but at least my apartment is safe. You won’t have any fear of being hounded, especially as you won’t have Mitch and Dan across the hall.”

“I will,” she says, looking up at me. “I’m not making false promises as I don’t know what’s going to happen. But if we’re really going to do this, we need to do it properly. I know the stress you were under because of the espionage, and I’m also at fault because I wasn’t transparent with you. I should never have kept night school a secret. It was stupid, but my life was crazy. Secrets have a way of coming back to bite you in the arse. Believe me when I say, my family have enough experience to last several lifetimes. If I come back, I want to give us a real go.”

My lips descend on hers, and it’s like coming home. I deepen our kiss before pulling back and resting my forehead against hers.

“Let’s go and tell my family,” she says. “I can’t promise they’re going to be very happy, and all those spare rooms of yours are likely to be full over the next couple of months, or they may stay at the Frazer Hotel, New York.”

“If they want to come and stay with us, they’ll be more than welcome. Although I’m not sure how Elijah is going to take the news.”

“He’s a pussycat beneath it all,” she says with a laugh. “And I’ll let you in on a little secret. It’s him who told me to follow my heart.”

“Then remind me to thank him.”

CHAPTER 79

HARPER

Ifold the last of my clothes into the packing box that will be shipped to Alex’s apartment.

Mum enters with Kat in tow.

“Nearly done?” she asks.

“I am.”

I take in the empty wardrobe, almost the size of the bedroom in my apartment in New York. Oh, how life has changed.

Mum smiles. “I don’t think Sophia and I could ever have foreseen you and Alessandro. Perhaps Kat, being the eldest, would have seemed more likely… but fate has a funny way of weaving her web.”

I sit down in the chair next to the fireplace in my room.

“How do you know Sophia? She would never tell me.”

Mum chuckles.

“We were at school together. Sixth form, it was called back then.”

“It’s more than school. She said she owed you.”

Mum’s smile widens. “I think I’m probably the one who owes her, if the truth be told.”

“For goodness sake, Mum,” Kat says. “Put us out of our misery. There’s clearly a story here.”

“Let’s just say I wasn’t your father’s first marriage prospect.”

Kat and I look at each other and then at our mother.

“What, Sophia?” I ask, then clamp my mouth shut. Dad and Sophia?

Mum nods and smiles.

“Their parents arranged their marriage while they were still children,” she explains. “They wanted a Frazer-St Clair merger. Not just of their businesses, but of their families too.”

“But you and Dad?” I ask. “I thought yours was an arranged marriage.”

Mum’s eyes twinkle. “Oh, it was. Your father was livid when I helped my friend elope with her true love.”

“Edoardo?”

“Yes, his family owned a small jewellery shop near the school. Sophia met him when she was buying a present for her mother. It was love at first sight.”

“Are you telling me St Clair jewellery is Edoardo’s business?”

“It’s more complicated than that. Sophia probably told you she lived in the UK until Alessandro was ten. All their children were born here, including Enzo and Gabriella. Her father disowned her after she and Edoardo eloped and embarrassed him.”

I drop back into the chair. “Wow.”

“Hang on, so how did you end up with Dad?”

“He needed a wife. My parents owned a small group of boutique hotels, although they weren’t called that then. They weren’t fancy or grand, but I had a lot of input into their design.” Her eyes twinkle as she is transported back in time. “He decided I was the next best thing.”

“And you agreed?” Kat says.

“Your father needed a wife to appease the hotel board, and he could be rather… persuasive when he wanted to be.”

“What did Dad do?” Kat asks.

She simply smiles at us both. I know they loved each other, anyone could see it, and they never hid their love from us children.

“But you loved him?” Kat says, unable to mask the horror in her tone.

She knew Dad better than any of us and understood his ruthless streak.

“I did, still do, with all my heart. As I said, fate has a strange way of throwing the right people together. You just have to be open to it. Now it’s chosen Alessandro for Harper, the same way you and Jaxson were destined to be together. It always finds a way.”

We sit in silence, letting her words sink in.

“How did Dad get mixed up in the mess with Montague Peregrine and Leonard Crawley?” I ask, needing to know the answer.

Mum sighs.

“You do know?” Kat asks, placing a hand in our mother’s lap.

Mum laces her fingers through Kat’s, then beckons me over and takes one of mine with her free hand.

“I do,” she says, her smile fading. “Your father was a good man with a strong moral compass.” She looks at us both. “And I would not have had him any other way.”

She sighs.

“Your father always employed ex-military men and women as part of the hotel security teams, offering jobs to those who had left the services. Something you still do today, Kat.”

Kat nods.

“One evening, one of his team came to him. Something had come up on one of the security feeds. A meeting.”

“But…”

“All the tapes I found,” Kat whispers as Mum nods.

“Your father realised they were using the Frazer hotels to hold their meetings. He couldn’t ignore it, so he spoke to one of his friends in the House of Lords, someone he thought he could trust.”

“He introduced him to The Seamstress?” Kat asks.

“Yes. These men were involved in some nasty business. Young women had been going missing. It was all over the news. But on the tape, they talked about drug runs and arms deals. If it was illegal, they appeared to have a hand in it.”

“But we had Sir Leonard in our house,” I say, a shiver running down my spine.

What would have happened to April if Elijah hadn’t intervened?

“We were told it was safer not to show our hand. These people moved in our circles.”

“Keep your friends close, your enemies closer,” I say.

“Exactly.”

“But Montague? Dad didn’t know about him?” Kat asks.

Mum shakes her head. “Montague…” Her voice catches. “Montague was the man your father trusted.”

A silence descends as Mum’s words sink in.

“Your dad was closing in. Some of the group were getting sloppy, greedy. The only thing I can think of is that Montague was scared they would sell him out.”

“So, Montague arranged to have Dad taken out?”

Mum shakes her head. “No, I think that was more likely his son and his friends, trying to earn their stripes. A show of allegiance.”

My stomach turns over, and I choke down a sob.

“Your father knew the risks he was taking if they ever found out what he was doing. They threatened me after his death, wanting the evidence. I told them it would remain hidden unless something happened to one of my children or me. There are letters lodged with multiple solicitors, around the world, that would have been sent to law enforcement should anything have happened to any of us.”

“The sex tape. You kept up your end of the bargain?” Kat asks. “Why did they go after Harper?”

“Elijah unwittingly stirred up a hornet’s nest the day he stepped in to protect April. Leonard became unstable, and it’s since come out that he was in a lot of debt. But that’s not important. When his files were uncovered, the threat that I might hand over your father’s findings became real. The sex tape was their way of telling me they were still in charge. They knew we could prove it was a fake, so it was the equivalent of a shot across the bow. It’s also why The Seamstress and I felt it was safer to send you away.”

“But those tapes, they may have helped put them away sooner,” Kat says.

Mum shakes her head.

“The Seamstress knew about them and had seen them. After your father’s death, she came to visit me, but there wasn’t enough evidence in them alone. Your father had never been able to work out who the kingpin was. When I told her about their threats, she told me to keep them hidden, and when the time was right, she’d come for them.”

“But I found them first,” Kat says.

Mum smiles.

“You did, but you simply bumped up the timeline.”

“So, it’s really over?” I ask.

Mum nods and squeezes my hand. “It is. I’m sorry you got dragged into this. Your father was trying to protect you. He would never have wanted any of this to have touched you.”

“You’re right, Dad did have a strong moral compass,” Kat says.

Mum smiles. This time it reaches her eyes.

“Believe me when I say we may not have begun life as a love match, but I loved your father with every ounce of my being, and I miss him every day.”

I wrap my arms tightly around Mum and Kat, holding them while we all cry for the man we loved and lost.

CHAPTER 80

HARPER

The elevator dings, and Alex enters, a large bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“You look better,” he says, crossing to me and dropping a kiss on my mouth.

“For me?”

“Of course. I missed you this afternoon,” he says.

I took the afternoon off to visit Callie and baby Logan. She’s one of the few people I’ve revealed my identity to. I’ve also told all of Alex’s friends. We invited them around for dinner. They loved all the cloak-and-dagger secrecy until Alex pointed out my life had been in danger. Three enormous bouquets turned up the next day, along with poetic notes of apology.

I smile up at him as he leans closer.

“I feel remarkably better,” I say with a grin taking the bouquet and placing it on the side before sliding my hands up his chest and around his neck.

He deepens our kiss. “I’m glad.”

“My miraculous recovery is down to the fabulous Greta.”

“Well, remind me to give her a summer bonus,” he says, kissing me again, before manoeuvring us to the sofa.

“I’ve got something to ask.”

I quirk a brow, and he grins.

“I have a charity event this weekend… before you say anything, it’s closed-door. No press are allowed inside. I’m attending with the guys, and we can stay at the hotel, so you won’t need to walk the red carpet. I can go alone, but it would mean a lot for me to have you by my side.”

My heart rate increases.

“No press?”

“Only outside. They don’t want to publicise the size of the donations or who made them.”

I’ve attended several of these types of events before. Larger donations are often made when the donors can remain anonymous.

I smile and take his hand in mine. “It’s not a question of whether I want to, it’s whether you’re ready to let the rest of the world in if I’m spotted.”

So far, it’s not been too bad. My reappearance barely warranted a mention on page thirty-five of one of the American newspapers. Since my return, we’ve let several of the main players, like the board of directors, Elise and Sue, in on my true identity, but besides that, I’m still Brooke. We’ve also disclosed our relationship. The fact that I’m growing baby Bianchi will soon be hard to hide.

Alex grins. “You know my take on this,” he says, pulling me forward and flush against him, my hands resting on his chest.

“Okay then,” I say, with a slight tilt of my lips.

“Okay? Really?” Alex asks, his face lighting up. “Mother and Enzo are going to be there. Callie is also going to be attending. We’ve got our own table, so there shouldn’t be any issues.”

“Callie, really? She didn’t say anything. Er… Alex, how’s your mother going to take it? Us going public?” I tap his chest, and then mine.

“I really don’t give a flying,” he says. “I’m forty years old. I don’t need my mother’s permission. Besides, you’re growing her grandchild. You could run around New York naked, and she’d love you.”

I snort, slapping a hand over my mouth.

“I’ve got nothing to wear.”

My hips and stomach have slightly expanded now that I’m sixteen weeks along.

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong.”

I furrow my brow.

“Come with me,” he says.

He leads me by the hand into one of the spare rooms, throwing open the closet doors.

Inside is a dress, one I’ve never seen before. It’s made from the fabric we sampled in Italy.

“Alex, oh my goodness, it’s stunning.”

I turn to look at him, noticing the colour rising over his cheekbones.

“I’m glad. I designed it with you in mind.”

“What?” I step forward, my hand reaching for the beautiful floor-length evening gown. “You designed this? When?”

“All that free time you added to my calendar. It’s not all been about work. You gave me back the time for my first love. Designing.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Try it on. Elise had your measurements from your fittings and allowed for a little extra room for the baby. She’s also willing to pop around and make any alterations if you need them.”

“I can’t believe you designed this for me,” I say, turning and wrapping my arms around his neck.

His hands grip my waist. “Let’s just say you inspire me in more ways than one.”

I plant a kiss on his lips before pulling back.

“Are you going to try it on?”

“Absolutely.”

I spin away and strip out of my loungewear.

Alex is holding the dress ready. I shimmy it down my body, allowing him to fasten the hidden zipper. It fits like a glove, hugging me in all the right places, and flowing elegantly where it needs to.

“Alex, this is stunning.”

“You’re stunning,” he says, pulling me back against him. “So, you’ll come?”

“I’ll come,” I say, unable to turn down this wonderful man.

* * *

Of all the hotels in all of New York, the event has to be held at the Frazer Hotel, which Kat found highly amusing when I told her. All the staff have been told to ignore me if they see me.

I should feel relieved and secure, but instead I’m finding it hard to meet anyone’s eyes. The fragrance is like coming home, the Frazer signature scent, introduced into the chain by our mother thirty-plus years ago, or perhaps it was first used in her parents’ hotel chain. I’ll have to remember to ask her. The men and women who work here are like family to me. I’ve visited New York with Kat on multiple occasions over the years.

“Mr Bianchi, your suite is ready,” the concierge says.

“Thank you, An…” I say, stopping myself before I add the rest of her name.

Annie has worked for The Frazer Group for over ten years. She is the go-to person for Kat and me whenever we’re in town.

Annie gives me a sly smile, making Alex chuckle. He wraps an arm around my shoulders.

It’s not much better with the bellboy.

We enter the suite Alex has organised for us, deciding it was safer not to use my family’s suite. It’s beautiful. I must remember to tell Kat. She loves feedback on the hotels and guest experiences. It’s what makes her so good at what she does. That and the fact she puts up with zero shit from anyone.

“Well, we have four hours. What would you like to do?”

I tap my chin as if contemplating his question before spinning and wrapping my arms around his neck.

“I’m sure we can find something to do,” I say, my mouth capturing his.

* * *

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks for the umpteenth time. “I know how you feel about us being seen in public.”

“Of course I’ll be okay. I’m perfectly capable of taking an elevator to the fifth floor, I promise.” I chuckle.

“If you’d prefer, I can come back up and collect you from the room. Just message me,” he says, his brows furrowing.

“Go,” I say, laughing. “Your mother will be waiting, not to mention Enzo. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

He rolls his eyes. I know he is unsure why Enzo couldn’t accompany their mother on his own. But then that might have a little something to do with me.

“If you change your mind…” he says.

“I won’t, I promise.” I turn in my seat, laughing. “Callie is going to call me when she and David arrive. I’ll wait until they get here and head down then. I won’t be alone.”

“Well, if for some reason⁠—”

I get up from the dressing table and make my way across the room.

“Stop worrying, I’m a big girl. This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve got this. Now go.”

He drops a kiss on my lips before stepping away.

“Oh, Mr Bianchi,” I say, making him turn to face me. “You look incredibly hot in your suit.”

He growls. “Not helping,” he says with a harrumph. “I need to go, but after the past couple of hours, I would happily blow off this charity event and hole up here in our hotel room.”

I grin and wave him away.

“See you downstairs.”

He snatches another quick kiss before exiting the room.

Five, four, three, two, one… knock.

I throw open the door.

“I thought he was never going to leave,” Callie says, throwing her arms around me. “How are you feeling?”

“Sick to my stomach, and this time it’s not Button causing it.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. He’s told the board. It’s now time for me to tell the world he’s mine and I’m his.”

“God, I love that,” she says, her eyes glistening. “Damn it, Harper, you’re going to ruin my makeup. Alex deserves so much happiness, and you’ve given him that. In all the time I’ve known him, he’s never looked so alive as he does with you.”

“It goes both ways.”

She grins. “Let’s do this. Enzo will stall Alex if necessary, but hopefully it won’t come to that.”

CHAPTER 81

ALEX

“Enzo, what the hell is taking you so long?”

I huff, trying hard not to run my hand through my hair.

I’ve messaged Harper to tell her my brother is an idiot who is running late. She’s told me not to freak out and that everything will be fine. But I know what I’ve asked of her, and I don’t want anything to go wrong. Not tonight. The first night I’ve convinced her to be seen with me in public.

“If you don’t hurry up, we’re going without you,” I snap, my patience fraying.

“Keep your boxers on. I’m ready.”

“At last!”

“Now, now, boys. United front,” Mother says.

She knows how to work the room, and as always, she’s dressed to perfection. I’m surprised she isn’t pacing the floor. She hates being late for anything.

I usher them out of Enzo’s townhouse and into the car, before we join the queue of A-list celebrities. The event might take place behind closed doors once it begins, but what if Harper is recognised by another hotel guest? The press is just outside…

When we reach the front of the queue, Keith pulls the Bentley up to the kerb and jumps out to open the door.

“Have a wonderful evening,” he says.

“Thank you, Keith.”

We emerge onto the red carpet amid shouted calls and camera flashes. Mother situates herself between us, her sons, posing for the cameras. She may no longer run the St Clair fashion house, but there’s not a single person out there who doesn’t know who she is and how she revitalised and transformed a declining brand.

As for Enzo and me, we’ve been paraded in front of the press since she took over, so what’s one more photoshoot?

Mother grips my arm.

“Just in time,” she says, her eyes sparkling as she looks past me.

I look up to find Harper walking towards me. Her eyes lock on mine, and she offers me a breathtaking smile.

She moves towards me, and I open my arms.

“Are you making an entrance, Ms Frazer?”

“I know my boyfriend has been incredibly patient with me, and after three months, I’ve decided I’m sick of hiding. I think it’s time we went public.”

I can’t smother my grin, pulling her in for a kiss, which she returns with equal passion.

“Who’s that?” Questions fly from the press line.

“That’s Harper… Harper Frazer, the missing British heiress,” someone shouts. Excitement ripples through the crowd of journalists.

“Harper, this way,” someone shouts.

She turns, but I don’t miss the twinkle in her eyes as she slides an arm around my waist.

“Alessandro, are you and Harper together?”

“How long have you been seeing each other?”

“Mr Bianchi, Ms Frazer, this way.”

“Harper, who designed your dress?”

She turns and looks at me. I quirk a brow.

“Alessandro designed it,” she says, answering the reporter before shifting her gaze back to me, love shining from her eyes.

I drop a kiss on her painted lips, sensing her smile beneath my mouth, her hand coming up and gripping my neck.

More questions are shouted, but I’m lost in the moment, the woman of my dreams finally standing beside me in public.

We pose for the cameras until things finally calm down, and the next A-lister takes our spot.

“Well done, my darling. We’ll make a model of you yet,” Mother says the moment we step inside, before dragging Harper in for one of the most affectionate hugs, I’ve ever seen her give.

“Not a chance, Sophia. Modelling is not for me. I shall be sticking to designing, or working as Alex’s PA,” she says, laughing.

“You know they’re going to spend the rest of the evening trying to break in here to gain an exclusive,” Dante says, coming up and clapping me on the back, before placing a kiss on Harper’s cheek. “You were perfect,” he says, grinning at her.

She inclines her head and grins back.

“Were you all in on this?” I ask.

“Of course,” Leo says. “We’re here as protection should things have got out of hand. We were ready to swoop in, encircle Harper, and drag her back inside, thus saving the day.”

“No, they really weren’t,” Callie says, coming to stand next to us.

I look down at Harper, a frown marring her brow.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“I should be asking you that question. Did I do the wrong thing?”

I pull her against me and tilt her chin. “No. I was surprised. You look stunning.”

“I just wanted to do it, bite the bullet. Button is not going to stay hidden for much longer,” she says, her hand resting on the slight swell of her stomach. “I thought if they already know we’re in a relationship, there will be less of a scandal when I finally do start showing.”

“You know I have no complaints. I’ll happily shout about us from the rooftops.” I pull her into my arms, placing my lips against hers. “You’re mine, Harper Frazer, now and forever.”

“And you’re mine,” she says.

“Come on, you two lovebirds, let’s find our table,” Dante says, slapping me on the back.

EPILOGUE

HARPER

Iknock on Alex’s door.

“Come in,” he calls.

I enter, bouncing Bobby on my hip as I go, trying to untangle my hair from his tight fist.

“Sorry,” I say as Alex looks up. “Andie isn’t at her desk, and someone wanted to see his daddy.”

He’s up and around his desk in seconds, encasing us both in his arms and dropping a kiss on my lips before turning to kiss our son’s head.

“My two favourite people, you can interrupt anytime.”

Bobby wriggles and squirms to get to his dad.

“Hey, gorgeous boy,” Alex says, scooping him out of my arms and raising him high into the air. “How’s daddy’s favourite little boy?”

Alex tosses him gently into the air, eliciting peals of giggles. Bobby grabs his cheeks and squeals with delight.

At six months old, he’s full-on, a perfect combination of the two of us, and the apple of the eye of all his aunts, uncles, and cousins.

“Are you ready for this evening?”

“Yes, Elise and I have been working flat out. The exhibition is breathtaking. St Clair, old and new, side by side through the ages.”

“Has your family landed?”

“They have. They’re on their way to the hotel as we speak. They’ll see us there. Mum is heading to the apartment because she wants as much Bobby time as she can get,” I say.

Although Alex’s apartment is big enough, having siblings, partners, and children all together is more than any of us wants to handle. Instead, they’ve taken over the family suite, as well as every other suite on the top floor of the hotel.

“Anyway, I’m heading over to the museum now. Are you sure you’re okay to collect Bobby from the creche?”

“Of course, stop worrying,” he says, dropping another kiss on my nose.

“Excellent. Then I’d better get this little man downstairs.”

Alex has opened a creche in the building, employing the best childcare he could find. It’s been a hit, taking the pressure off staff members with young families, especially during the holidays, when we employ additional staff to run holiday camps. It also meant that Andie could take over my role as Alex’s PA. She loved fashion, but two months after I quit night school, she realised she wasn’t cut out to be a designer. When I returned to New York, we met up and I found she was temping as a PA. The rest is history.

I give Alex one last kiss before leaving and returning Bobby— Robert Edward Bianchi— back to his childminders.

* * *

“Are you ready?” Elise asks.

“Absolutely,” I say, sucking in a deep breath.

“Then let’s do this.”

We walk out together. Tonight is the preview of St Clair through the ages, from its inception in the early nineteen hundreds to the present day.

It’s opening night, and the exhibition is full of members of the press, buyers, and clients.

“This is quite something, Ms Frazer,” a voice says close to my ear, goosebumps running up my arms.

I turn my head and smile at the man who has made every one of my dreams come true and continues to love me in a way I once only dreamed was possible.

“Elise did a lot of the work,” I say.

“And she told me the same about you. Mutual appreciation, I think.”

Elise has been amazing. I joined the company’s internship programme after I returned from England and before Bobby was born. She’s helped me develop my skills, taking my designs and turning them into St Clair masterpieces.

“Come on, Ms Frazer, it’s time to put on a show.”

We step onto the platform together in front of our guests, and Alex does what he does best.

* * *

We walk quietly through the exhibition, our guests having long gone.

I stop us in front of one of the glass cases.

“I love this dress,” I say, staring at the one-of-a-kind dress Alex designed for me, positioned next to the gown his grandfather designed for his grandmother.

“I had a great inspiration,” he says, smiling down at me, before pulling me against him.

He refused to allow the design to be copied or sold, despite high demand for it to be added to the collection. It is ours.

“I love you, Mr Bianchi. I love everything you’ve given me and everything you’ve done.”

He smiles. “The feeling is entirely mutual. I love you, Ms Frazer, more than I ever thought possible.”

I pull back, and he frowns, his mouth dropping slightly as I lower myself onto one knee.

“When I met you, I never envisaged where our lives would take us. I was lost, miles away from family and friends, but with you, I found a home— my home. I love you, Alessandro Bianchi, with every ounce of my being. Will you make me the happiest woman alive by marrying me?”

His hands slide under my arms as he hauls me up and against him, his mouth finding mine and igniting a longing, and passion that has never dwindled since that first time.

“Thank God,” he says when we finally break apart, his forehead resting against mine. “I thought I was going to have to break my promise.”

I throw back my head and laugh, knowing how much Alex likes to control every situation and how many hints he’s been dropping about us getting married.

“I take it that’s a yes?” I say.

“Damn right it is. Yes, yes, yes. I love you, Harper Brooke Frazer. I accept the challenge of being your husband, of loving you and making you smile until the day I die.”

I gaze up at the man who changed some of the worst moments of my life into the best memories a woman could ever ask for.

“I love you too, now, forever and always, Mr Bianchi, and I can’t wait to be your wife.”

* * *

Coming soon:

A new series by Zoe Dod

The Kingland Billionaires:

Find out what happens when each of the Kingland Players: Quentin, Tristan and Xander meet their match.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Zoe Dod writes emotionally intense billionaire fiction, with complex characters, swoon-worthy romance and a host of plot twists that will leave you guessing until the end. Her books are written in British English.

Prior to becoming a writer, Zoe began her working life as a software development manager in The City of London. In her mid-thirties she retrained as a primary school teacher, and loved teaching children to write and tell stories. She left teaching to spend more time with her family, and it was then she uncovered her love for writing romance.

Zoe lives in The New Forest, Hampshire, England with her husband, two adult children (when they’re back from work and uni), her crazy puppy and two rescue cats.

She loves reading and writing. When she’s not doing either of those, she’s on long walks in The New Forest or attending Zumba classes

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ALSO BY ZOE DOD

Forgive Me Series

Always You

Only You

Until You

The Frazer Family

The Donor Billionaire (Gabriel’s story)

The Playboy Billionaire (Caleb’s story)

The Broken Billionaire (Elijah’s story)

The Ice Queen Billionaire (Kat’s story)

The Rebel Billionaire (Harper’s story)

The Kingland Billionaires (coming soon)

Quentin’s Story (title to be confirmed)

Tristan’s Story (title to be confirmed)

Xander’s Story (title to be confirmed)

* * *