Prologue

ELLIOT

I stare at the numbers above the door as they go down with each floor I drop; my phone vibrates in my pocket, I take it out, it’s from Christopher.

Warning!

Witch is looking for you.

Fuck.

I stuff my phone back in my pocket and exhale heavily, not in the mood for her shit today. The elevator doors open and I stride out, glance up, and catch her in my peripheral vision. I pretend not to see her and turn toward Courtney, my PA.

“Mr. Miles,” I hear her call from behind.

I keep walking.

“Ahem.” She clears her throat. “Mr. Miles. Don’t ignore me.”

I feel my temperature rise.

My nostrils flare and I turn toward the voice, and there she stands. The most infuriating staff member to have ever walked the earth.

Intelligent, bossy, arrogant, and fucking annoying.

Kathryn Landon, my arch nemesis.

The official wicked witch of the west.

A title well deserved.

I fake a smile. “Good morning, Kathryn.”

“A word?”

“It’s nine a.m. on a Monday morning,” I snap. “Now is not the time for”—I put up my fingers to do fake quotation marks—“a word.”

I swear she spends all weekend brainstorming ways to fuck up my Mondays.

“Make time,” she barks.

I run my tongue over my teeth: this bitch has me over a barrel and she knows it. A complete computer geek, she designed our new software. She knows she’s indispensable and holy fuck, does she ride my ass.

She marches to her office and opens the door in a rush. “I’ll be quick.”

“Of course you will.” I fake a smile, imagine myself slamming her head in the door as I walk through it.

She sits down behind her desk. “Please, take a seat.”

“No, I’m fine standing. You’re being quick, remember?” She raises her eyebrow and I glare right back at her. “What is it?”

“It has been brought to my attention that I won’t be getting my four new interns this year. Why not?”

“Don’t play games, Kathryn, you obviously already know the answer to that question.”

“Why would you give those traineeships to offshore employees?”

“Because it’s my company.”

“That isn’t a good enough answer.”

I begin to hear my heartbeat in my ears as I tilt my chin to the sky; nobody riles me up like this woman. “Miss Landon, I don’t have to justify any decisions on the running of Miles Media to you. I report to the board, and the board only. Although, I do have to wonder about your intentions.”

She narrows her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“Well, if you are so unhappy here, why do you stay?”

“What?”

“There are a million other companies that you could go and work for and yet you insist on staying here and complaining about every little thing. I’m not going to lie, it’s getting very old.”

“How dare you!”

“I think you should remember that nobody is indispensable. I’m more than happy to accept your resignation at any time. Hell, I’ll even pay you a bonus to leave.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “I want a written report on the internships you have taken from the London office and the reasons why. Your excuse is not good enough and I will be presenting this issue to the board myself.”

Of course she will. My fury bubbles.

“And don’t roll your eyes at me,” she huffs.

“Kathryn, I need a damn retina transplant from all the eye rolling you cause.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

We glare at each other and I don’t know if I’ve ever hated someone like I do her.

Knock, knock, sounds at the door.

“Come in,” she yells.

Christopher comes into view, just like I knew he would. He always interrupts my meetings with Kathryn moments before my impending explosion. “Elliot, can I see you?” he asks. He nods to her with a smile. “Morning, Kathryn.”

“We’re not finished, Christopher, you will have to wait,” she snaps.

“We are finished.” I turn. “If you have any more complaints, which no doubt you will, take it up with HR.”

“I won’t be doing that,” she snaps again. “You are the CEO and I will be taking up any issues I have with you. Stop wasting my time, Mr. Miles. I’m more than happy to report to the board on your incompetence. Lord knows there’s enough of it. I want those intern positions returned to the London office immediately.”

“Not happening.”

She shuffles the papers on her desk. “Fine, see you on Tuesday week.”

The board meeting.

I glare at her as I begin to hear my heartbeat in my ears.

Fucking bitch.

“Ahh . . . Elliot,” Christopher prompts me. “We have to go.”

I clench my jaw as I glare at her. “Name your price to resign.”

“Go to hell.”

“I will not be accosted with your trivial complaints every single time I walk through my office,” I growl.

“Then stop making stupid decisions.”

Our eyes are locked.

“Goodbye, Mr. Miles, close the door on your way out.” She smiles sweetly. “See you at the board meeting.”

I inhale sharply as I grapple with control.

“Elliot,” Christopher prompts me again. “This way.”

I storm from her office straight into the elevator. Christopher is hot on my heels and the doors close behind us.

“Holy fuck. I hate that woman,” I whisper angrily.

“If it makes you feel any better”—he smirks—“she hates you more.”

I loosen my tie with a hard jerk. “Is it too early for a Scotch?” I ask.

Christopher looks at his watch. “It’s nine-fifteen a.m.”

I inhale heavily as I try to calm myself down.

“Who fucking cares.”

KATE

I throw my lunch into a bag and look around for my keys. “I’m leaving,” I call to Rebecca.

Beck pops her head around the bathroom door; she’s wrapped in a white towel with another around her head. “Make sure you’re not home late tonight. I don’t want it to seem awkward and weird when he gets here.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it, I want him to feel welcome, and you know, it would be nice for us both to be here to settle Daniel in.”

I roll my eyes as I look for my keys. Where are they? “What makes you think that he wants us to settle him in?”

“I just think it would be nice to give a good first impression.”

“Okay, I get it.” I spot my keys in the small basket on the coffee table.

“I’m picking up our netball uniforms today in my lunch break,” she calls.

I smirk; God help us, we’re starting to play indoor netball this week. My first competitive sporting activity since high school. “I can’t wait,” I call back. “Hopefully they come standard with defibrillators. I’m so unfit I might have a heart attack.”

Rebecca laughs as she unwraps the towel from her head. “You have a gym in your building at work, why don’t you use it?”

I make my way toward the door. “I know, I really should stop being so lazy.”

“Do you think I should cook Daniel dinner tonight?” she asks.

I screw up my face. “Why are you breaking your neck to be so nice to this guy?”

“I’m not.”

“Do you fancy him or something?” I widen my eyes. “I didn’t see you going to all these lengths for our last flatmate.”

“Yeah, because she was a pain in my ass, and besides, Daniel is new in town, just arriving today, and he knows nobody. I feel sorry for him.”

“He’s a personal stylist, I’m pretty sure he has his own wanky friends to hang out with,” I mutter dryly.

“Correction, he’s a fashion graduate who has moved to London because he wants to be a stylist, there’s a big difference.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever, see you tonight.”

I take the stairs and three flights later I’m in the street and walking toward the train station. It’s only three stops until the Central line but still, too far to walk.

I wait on the platform, and right on schedule along comes my train. I climb on and take a seat.

I’ve come to the realization that this is the weirdest twenty minutes of my day. It’s like a time tunnel; I take a seat, I look around, and the next minute I’m miraculously there. I must fall into this catatonic state—I don’t know what I think about, I don’t know where the time goes. I just know that somehow, every day I lose twenty minutes thinking about subjects that I can’t remember.

I get off the train and make my way to the office. I work in central London, and there’s a small coffee shop diagonally across from the Miles Media building; it’s busy and bustling as people rush in and out on their way to work.

“Hey, beautiful girl,” says Mike.

“Hi.” I smile happily. Mike is the barista who works here; also he’s had a low-key crush on me for a few years. He’s sweet and cute and unfortunately I feel absolutely nothing every time he speaks to me.

It sucks, because he’s a really great guy. If ever there was someone that I knew would be good for me, it would be Mike. I wish I could pick who I was attracted to; it definitely would make things a lot easier in my life.

“The usual?” Mike asks.

I take a seat by the window. “Yes please.” I look around.

Mike makes my coffee and comes over and sits it down in front of me. “What’s new?” he asks.

“Not much.” I pick up my coffee, steam floats to the ceiling, and I blow on it. “I’m thinking of joining the gym at work.”

“Yeah?” Mike’s gaze looks over to the building across the street. “You have a gym in there?”

“A huge one, on level fourteen.”

“Ha, who knew? Do you have to pay?”

“No, it’s free for employees.” I take a sip of my coffee.

Mike chuckles as he pretends to wipe down the table next to where I’m sitting.

“I can come with you,” he offers with a cute wink.

“Sorry, it’s for employees only and I can’t afford to go to another gym.”

Mike rolls his eyes.

Mike and I watch on as a black Bentley pulls up in front of the Miles Media building. The driver gets out of the car and opens the back door, and Elliot Miles climbs out. Like some kind of morning spectacle that I go through every day, my eyes roam up and down the man I despise. Today he’s wearing a navy-blue pinstripe suit with a white shirt, his dark hair curled to just-fucked perfection. I watch him do up his jacket with one hand, his briefcase in his other. His back is ramrod-straight, his stance dominant.

Arrogance personified.

I sip my coffee as I watch him; it infuriates me that he’s gorgeous.

It infuriates me that every woman stops dead in her tracks, and stares when he walks into a room. And more than anything, it infuriates me that he knows it.

Although I’d never admit it, I read the tabloids and gossip magazines, I see all the exotic parties he goes to and the beautiful women he dates.

I know more about Elliot Miles than I care to admit.

I mean, I should—I’ve hated the man for the whole seven years that I’ve worked for him.

I watch as he says something to his driver with a smile, then he walks into the Miles Media building as people turn their heads to watch him, and I feel the hackles on the back of my neck rise.

Elliot Miles, the epitome of a rich bastard . . . pisses me off.

It’s just three in the afternoon and my email pings.

I open it.

Elliot Miles.

CEO Miles Media UK.

Kathryn,

Have you finalized the tracking report?

Asshole.

I clench my jaw and type my reply.

Dear Mr. Miles,

Good afternoon, always a pleasure to receive correspondence from you.

Your manners are as impeccable as ever.

The report isn’t due until Tuesday next week, you will receive it then.

Perhaps if I had the adequate number of staff members, I could work to your unrealistic work schedule.

Enjoy the rest of your day.

Sincerely,

Kathryn.

I smirk and hit send; being a sarcastic bitch to Elliot Miles is my favorite hobby. A reply bounces straight back in.

Good afternoon Kathryn,

As always, your dramatics are unappreciated.

I didn’t ask when I would receive the report, I asked if you had finished it.

Please pay attention to detail, I don’t want to constantly repeat myself.

Have you finished the report or not?

I inhale sharply, this damn man drives me fucking crazy. I type my reply, hitting my keyboard so hard I’m surprised I don’t break a finger.

Mr. Miles,

Of course the report is finalized. I am, as always, prepared for your inconsistencies in dates and timelines.

Thankfully, one of us is a professional.

Please find the attached report.

If you have trouble understanding it, I’m happy to take time out of my busy schedule to explain it before you meet the board.

I smirk as I keep typing, imagining the smoke coming out of his ears as he reads it.

Have a lovely afternoon, always a pleasure.

Kathryn Landon.

I sip my tea, feeling happy with myself—take that.

My email pings again and I open it.

Miss Landon.

Thank you.

Have a safe trip home this afternoon, don’t walk in front of a bus or anything.

I smile to myself. Stupid twat . . . you wish.

I stand and watch Rebecca run around the apartment like a chicken—Daniel is arriving at any moment. And boy oh boy, is Rebecca in overdrive.

“Don’t just stand there,” she snaps.

“What do you want me to do?” I look around the spotless apartment. “There is literally nothing left to clean. What is it with you and this guy?” I ask. “You’re hell-bent on impressing him. The fact that he’s gorgeous wouldn’t have anything to do with it, would it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snaps again. “I have a boyfriend, remember?”

“Oh, I remember, but do you?”

“Shut up,” she huffs.

The doorbell sounds and our eyes meet. “He’s here,” she whispers.

“Well.” I gesture to the front door. “Go and let him in.”

Rebecca nearly runs to the front door and opens it in a rush. “Hi.” She smiles.

It’s really hard not to roll my eyes.

“Hi.” He smiles as he looks between us. He’s got two big suitcases with him, he’s tall and blond, and I have to admit, he really is quite handsome. I don’t remember him being this good-looking when he came around to meet us before. No wonder Beck is breaking her back to impress him. “Here, let me help you with those,” I offer.

Beck looks out onto the street. “Do you have any more things you want help with bringing in?”

“Thanks, I’ve just got another two suitcases in my car. I can get them.”

“You remember Kate?” She gestures to me.

Daniel’s eyes come to me. “Yes, of course I do. Nice to see you again, Kate.”

I give an awkward smile—I’m always so weird in social situations. Until I get to know someone I’m really not friendly at all. Not by choice of course, shyness is a curse.

“This is your bedroom through here.” Rebecca plays tour guide, leads him through and shows him his room. “And this is my bedroom. Come upstairs and I’ll show you Kate’s bedroom,” she offers.

I follow them as she shows him around the apartment. My eyes roam up and down Daniel: he’s wearing black trousers, a black knitted sweater, pointy shoes, and a bomber jacket in camo green. His clothes are expensive and trendy; he really does look the part of the personal stylist.

“When do you start work?” I ask as I try and make conversation.

“I have four clients next week, and I have to find about fifty more as soon as possible,” he says.

I smile.

“But seriously, I start with Harrods next week, I’m going to be one of their in-house shoppers.”

Oh, what a hellish job—shopping is my living nightmare. Unsure what to say and feeling awkward, I hunch my shoulders. “I’ve never met a personal shopper before.”

Daniel smiles. “There aren’t too many of us.”

I take a suitcase from him and glance down at it: Louis Vuitton. Jeez . . . I think the suitcase is worth more than my car. He disappears down the front steps to the street and I peer out after him: he has a black new-model Audi. Why the hell is he sharing an apartment with two other people if he has all this expensive stuff?

Surely he would want to live alone?

I know I would.

He grabs another two suitcases from his car and once again they are beautiful black leather; I eye them suspiciously as he walks back up the steps. I wish I had good taste like this. I wouldn’t know what to buy even if I did have the money.

Daniel wheels his suitcases into his bedroom and looks between us as he puts his hands on his hips. “Please tell me that you girls are taking me out tonight. There’s no better way to get to know each other than over a few drinks.”

Rebecca’s eyes nearly pop from her head in excitement. “That sounds awesome.” She glances over to me. “Doesn’t it, Kate?”

Not really.

A fake smile. “Sure does.”

“Shall we go?” he asks.

“Now?” I frown. “You don’t want to put anything away first?”

“No, I’m good, it will still be there tomorrow and I have nothing to do until next week so it will give me a mission.”

An hour later, we sit at the bar in a restaurant, wine firmly in hand.

“So?” Daniel looks between the two of us. “What’s the story with you two, are you single or dating?”

“Well.” Rebecca smiles. “I have a boyfriend, Brett. And Kathryn here is trying to get an honorary membership to the nunnery.”

I laugh. “That’s not true. I’m just very picky.”

Daniel gives me a cute wink. “Nothing wrong with that. I’m quite picky myself actually.”

“And what’s your story?” Rebecca asks.

“Well . . .” Daniel pauses as if choosing the right words. “I am . . .” He pauses again.

“Gay?” I ask.

Daniel laughs. “I like women too much to title myself completely gay.”

“So . . .” Rebecca screws up her face as she tries to make sense of that statement.

“You’re bisexual?”

Daniel twists his lips as if thinking. “I wouldn’t say I’m bisexual. My natural attraction is toward women. But lately . . .” His voice trails off.

“What?” I ask, fascinated.

“A few years back I was partying with a few guys that I didn’t know that well in Ibiza. One of them was gay.”

“How many were you away with?” I ask.

“There were four of us in total.”

“So, three of you were straight?”

Daniel nods. “Maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the cocaine, I don’t know, but something happened and we got a little randy, spent the weekend in bed, and now I have a bit of a fetish for men on the side.”

Rebecca smiles dreamily over at Daniel, as if this is the best story that she’s ever heard. And I can almost hear the cogs in her brain clicking, assessing how liberated he must be.

I sip my drink, equally fascinated with his story. “How does it feel to be sexual with somebody that isn’t your natural inclination?”

“Good. Perhaps a little kinky.” Daniel shrugs. “I think that’s what it is for me, I feel like I’m doing something naughty, something that I shouldn’t be doing but at the same time feels so natural. And I don’t know how long I’ll keep doing it, maybe not forever, maybe not much more at all. But whenever I do it, I don’t regret it. It doesn’t feel wrong, if that’s what you mean.”

“How many . . .” Rebecca’s voice trails off as she stops herself.

“You can ask me anything,” Daniel prompts her.

“How many men have you been with?”

Daniel narrows his eyes as he thinks. “Hmm, not many, I would say more than ten but less than twenty.”

“Jeez.” My eyebrows raise by themselves.

“What’s that look for?” Daniel smiles.

“Well, you said that you haven’t slept with many men. If that’s a low number for you what’s a high number? I mean . . . what are your numbers for women?”

Daniel laughs. “Too many to count, I’m afraid. I meet some beautiful people in my industry, sometimes the temptation is just too great.”

Disappointment fills me and I screw up my napkin and throw it onto the table in disgust. “I wish I was more like you,” I sigh.

“Meaning?”

“You know, all liberated and cool and”—I pause as I think of the right terminology—“I guess, free.”

Daniel’s face falls. “You don’t feel free?”

Oh God, why did I say that? Now I sound like a freaking drama queen. “What I meant is, I guess I would like to be in your shoes, you know, sleeping with whoever I wanted to for fun.”

“You don’t have sex for fun?” Daniel frowns.

This is all coming out wrong. “I mean, I have in the past. I guess I just got out of the swing of it as I got older.”

“How old are you?” he asks.

“Twenty-seven. I had a few boyfriends in high school and college, and then after that I had a long-term boyfriend. We broke up a year after my parents died.”

“Your parents died?”

I sip my drink; how did we get onto this subject?

Why did I say that?

“They were involved in a head-on collision car crash,” Rebecca replies; she knows how much I hate saying that out loud.

Daniel’s eyes come to me in a question.

“My mother died at the scene, my father died on the way to hospital. The driver that hit them had a heart attack and veered onto the wrong side of the road.” I feel the heaviness come over me as my chest constricts, and I glance up into the kind eyes of Rebecca, who gives me a soft smile and takes my hand across the table. I had just moved in with Rebecca at college when my parents died. She’s been my rock and a wonderful friend and has been there for me on many lonely sad nights.

“I’m so sorry,” Daniel whispers. “Do you have any other family?”

“Yes.” I smile. “I have a wonderful brother, Brad, and I have a sister who . . .” My voice trails off.

“Who what?” Daniel asks.

“Is a raving bitch,” Rebecca snaps. “I have no idea how the two of these girls are genetically related. They have nothing at all in common. Chalk and cheese.”

Daniel smiles in surprise as he looks between us. “Why, what’s she like?”

“Beautiful.” I sip my drink.

“Entitled and mean,” Rebecca interjects.

I smile sadly. “She’s not so bad. She’s taken our parents’ death the hardest and somehow her personality changed overnight. Brad and I have held each other up and limped along and yet, all she wanted to do is be on her own. She hasn’t handled grief the same as we have.”

“You don’t see her at all?” Daniel asks.

“No, I do see her,” I reply. “I’m just usually upset or ruffled after she leaves. You know when you spend time with someone and they kind of suck the life out of you. She likes money and fame and having the designer handbags and all her gorgeous boyfriends. I feel like”—I pause as I try to articulate myself—“I feel like she’s replacing our parents’ love with objects.”

“You don’t like designer things?”

“I guess.” I shrug. “Everyone likes nice things, don’t they? It’s just not my priority.”

“Kate is very good with her money,” Rebecca interrupts.

“That’s code for tight.” Daniel laughs as his eyes flick to me. “Are you tight, Kate?”

“I am not tight.”

“Oh, you are too,” Rebecca scoffs. “She won’t spend any money on herself at all and is always saving for a rainy day. She wears the same ten outfits and hides behind those big thick glasses.”