by Becca Steele
Victoria’s annoyed huff came down the line. “We’ve been through this already. I know what I’m doing.”
“V. You’re twenty-three, and you’ve been with this man all of five minutes.”
“Almost a year, as a matter of fact. I love him, and I’m going to marry him.” She took a deep breath, and her voice came through quieter. “Besides, it’s too late to call it off now, even if I wanted to.”
“Listen to me. It’s not too late. If you’re having second thoughts, we can sort this out. Whatever you need.”
She sighed. “No. Ralph and I are getting married, and that’s final.”
“Okay. You know I’ll always support you.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was small. “I wish Dad were here. You’re still going to walk me down the aisle, aren’t you?”
Sadness filled me as I thought of my father. He’d passed away when I was seventeen, and Victoria was fourteen. A freak accident, they’d told us. He’d been waterskiing, and he’d wiped out at high speed. One day he was there; the next, gone. My mother had fallen to pieces. I’d had to grow up fast, to step up and be the man of the house, to take care of my mother and sister.
“V, of course I’ll walk you down the aisle. You’re my sister, and I love you.”
She sniffed. “I love you, too. Thanks. You’re the best brother a girl could ask for.” I smiled, hearing the sincerity in her tone. “Anyway, I need my beauty sleep. I’ll see you at the wedding.”
“See you then. Night.”
“Night.”
Placing the phone down on the coffee table, I crossed to the windows, staring at the city lights, my thoughts churning. Would things have turned out differently if my father had still been here?
3
Ethan
I opened the door to my penthouse. Avery was standing outside, her hand poised to knock.
“Come in,” I murmured. She raised her eyes to mine, and I could see everything reflected in those azure depths. Fear, worry, uncertainty all flashed across her face before she let out a huge sigh and trudged inside.
“Avery?” I asked tentatively. “Is everything okay?”
She nodded slowly. “I guess coming here has made it all real to me. When you first asked me to do this, it sounded like it could be fun, but I wasn’t really thinking about the implications. I hope I can pull it off.”
“Hey, it’s going to be fine,” I reassured her. “Come in, make yourself at home, and we’ll go over everything.” She nodded once again. As we rounded the corner into the main living area of the flat, her downcast face was suddenly transformed into wonder.
“Look at that view,” she breathed reverently, crossing over to the large floor-to-ceiling windows that were the main reason I’d purchased this apartment. The whole of the city of London stretched out beneath us as far as the eye could see, glass tower blocks glittering against the darkened sky.
“Oh, Ethan, this is amazing. I could stay here forever and never tire of this view.” She sank onto my sofa, still staring out of the windows with a dazed expression on her face. I smiled to myself.
“Let me get us a drink. Wine? Gin? Hot drink?”
She finally tore her gaze away from the windows and met my eyes. “White wine, please, if you have it.”
I crossed to the sleek grey kitchen area and pulled out a chilled bottle of wine from the fridge. Decanting it into two crystal glasses, I placed them on the coffee table and sat down next to her.
“Tell me your worries,” I said gently, placing a hand on her arm. She jumped at the contact, then laughed self-deprecatingly.
“That, for one. I guess we’ll have to have some kind of physical contact?” She chewed her lip agitatedly. “I’m going to be honest and say you intimidate me and, well—”
“Hey, hey, calm down. We’ll get through this together.” Slowly, so as not to spook her, I placed my hand on her arm once again and let it rest there for a moment. She flinched imperceptibly but made no comment. Instead, she picked up her wine, took a large fortifying gulp, and seemed to come to some decision in her head.
“Right. We can do this. I can do this.” She fiddled with her phone for a moment, then placed it on the table. The mellow sounds of Ray LaMontagne’s “Let It Be Me” started playing through the speaker, the sound slightly tinny.
“Come on,” she said, jumping up and extending a slim hand to me. “Let’s practice dancing. We’re going to be expected to dance, aren’t we?”
I placed my hand in hers, my large palm cradling her much smaller one. She pulled me towards the space in front of the windows. I lightly clasped her waist, and she slid her hands up to rest on my shoulders. We began to move to the music, a little awkwardly at first, but soon found a rhythm. I spun Avery round, bending her backwards into a dip, our faces close together, and she laughed breathlessly, clinging to my forearms.
“Slow down, Ethan!” Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were sparkling beneath her long lashes.
In that moment, I wanted to kiss her.
Fuck.
Where did that thought come from?
I pulled away from her and moved back to the sofa, a sudden need to create distance between us at the forefront of my mind. Now it was my turn to gulp my wine. I swallowed hard and looked up. She was looking at me with a confused, slightly hurt expression. Bloody hell; the last thing I wanted to do was upset her.
“Come here,” I said, patting the sofa beside me and forcing a smile onto my face. “We’ve got a lot to get through this evening. We’ve established that we have great moves on the dance floor; now we need to go over the details of our fake relationship.”
Thankfully, she nodded and sat down. I topped up her wine and made myself a coffee, and we spent the next hour going through details of our “relationship.” We’d decided to keep as close to the truth as possible—we’d tell people we met at work, and we’d been keeping it quiet due to the fact I was Avery’s boss.
When Avery yawned for the third time in the space of a few minutes, I suggested we call it a night.
“I’ll drive you home.”
“Ethan, no, it’s fine. I’m a Londoner—I’ve been travelling on my own at night for years. You don’t need to worry about me,” she insisted.
Bloody stubborn woman.
“I’m driving you.”
“No. I can take care of myself.”
“Do it for my peace of mind, then.”
She pulled a face but acquiesced. “If it will stop you bugging me.”
“It will.”
“Thank you,” she muttered, almost as an afterthought.
The car journey was silent, other than the voice of the satnav directing me to her home. We pulled up on a street with a row of dingy shops and takeaway places on either side of the dirty road. I parked next to the kerb and left the engine idling.
“You live here?”
Avery pointed above us. “Up above the dry-cleaners. I have a lovely view of the kebab shop over the road from my window.” The sarcasm was evident in her tone.
“We don’t pay you enough,” I grumbled under my breath. Unfortunately, not quietly enough, because she heard me.
“Hey, it’s honestly not that bad. I’m in central London, plenty of public transport near me, and I’m never alone.” Her point was punctuated by a group of rowdy teenage boys coming out of the kebab shop and screeching away on mopeds.
“I can see that,” I said dryly. “There must be better areas than this, though, surely?”
“I’m sorry it’s not up to your high standards, but it’s mine and I like it,” she announced crossly. She shoved the door open, slipped out of the car, and angrily slammed it behind her.
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, scrubbing a hand across my face. I turned off the engine and climbed out of my SUV.
“Avery, I’m sorry,” I called.
She whirled around from where she was unsuccessfully stabbing her key into the lock. “Whatever. Just forget it.”
In two
long strides I was standing behind her.
“Avery. Look at me.”
Our eyes met. Hers were dark and stormy, hurt clear in her expression.
“I’m not leaving you like this. I’m sorry I upset you. I honestly didn’t mean to.” I hoped she could see the truth in my eyes.
Her gaze softened and she sighed.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry for overreacting. I guess I’m just a bit sensitive about where I live, especially now I’ve seen your place.”
“It’s just somewhere I sleep.” I shrugged.
A small smile played across her lips. “It’s not, but thanks for that. I’ll see you at work.”
She turned back to the door and this time managed to get the key in the lock straight away. She whispered a soft goodbye, closing the door gently behind her.
4
Avery
Ethan was called away to Manchester on Monday to oversee some issues with one of our bigger ad campaigns, so I didn’t see him at work all week. He still messaged me every evening, though, mostly asking how my day had gone. In return, I asked how he was doing. He seemed stressed; I could tell through our messages—okay, I may have pumped his assistant, Delia, for information—so I sent him silly jokes and memes to try and brighten his day. I wasn’t sure if they helped, but I wanted to make him feel better. He was turning into a genuine friend, much to my surprise. I’d thought we would have nothing in common outside of work, but it proved that I shouldn’t be so quick to judge a person before I knew them.
Friday morning dawned bright and sunny. I chose to take that as a good sign for the weekend ahead, despite my extra-early start (on Ethan’s insistence). Instead of walking to work lugging my heavy overnight bag, I crammed into the Tube, another sardine in the overheated metal tin made up of stressed commuters. I felt equally excited and apprehensive, and by the time I arrived at Barrett London, I was a giant ball of nerves. Ethan had messaged me last night to confirm our arrangements. We would drive up to the wedding location straight after work; we were both leaving just after lunch as Ethan reckoned it would take over four hours to reach the hotel in Friday traffic. He already had a cover story in place, something about a potential new advertising account which he needed my advice on. Delia was the only other person who knew about our deal, and she wouldn’t have said anything to anyone. Ethan didn’t have social media accounts, so he didn’t have to worry about being inadvertently tagged in any incriminating posts, but I did, so I had tried my best to lock down my profiles and remove all tagging options.
Juggling my overnight bag and four coffees—thankfully the coffee shop had given me a bag—I arrived at my desk to find a Post-it note stuck to my screen with a barely legible scrawl—“My office as soon as you get to work. E.”
I smiled and placed a coffee on my colleague Luke’s desk, then walked down the hallway towards Ethan’s office. Stopping at Delia’s empty desk, I placed her coffee in front of her monitor screen, then knocked on Ethan’s door. It swung open as I was in the middle of knocking, and there he was, looking impossibly gorgeous in a pale blue shirt that accentuated his muscular torso—No. Just no. Stop that train of thought, right now!
“Are you alright?” He raised a quizzical brow.
“Ah ha, of course; why wouldn’t I be?” I laughed weakly. He looked at me sceptically but didn’t comment further.
“Right. Firstly, thanks for the coffee. I know I haven’t told you properly, but I appreciate both you bringing me my coffee every day and saving Delia a task,” he told me, his voice sincere.
I could feel the blush stealing over my face.
“It’s no problem, honestly. I pick up my own coffee; it’s no effort to grab a couple more while I’m there.”
“Regardless, it’s appreciated.”
“Thank you.” I looked down at my hands, unsure. “What was that note all about?”
“I wanted to go through everything one more time before everyone gets here.”
We spent the next thirty minutes finalising the details of the weekend, and I felt much calmer by the time we’d finished. As I left Ethan’s office, Delia gave me a knowing look.
“What?” I asked, unable to decipher the expression on her face.
“Nothing,” she insisted. Then, “Alright; it’s none of my business, but I think you’re going to be good for Ethan.”
“Good for him? What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean, Avery Jenkins.”
I shrank under the force of her penetrating gaze. “Uhhh, no I don’t,” I stuttered.
“Hmm.” She eyed me, unconvinced. “You know, he needs a good woman to take care of him, to breathe new life into him. He’s too wrapped up in his work.”
I stared at her dumbly. “What?”
“Remember, Avery, he built this company from the ground up. It’s his baby. He doesn’t have time for proper relationships with women. He never allows himself to get close to anyone; he doesn’t want anything to take him away from Barrett London.”
“Oh.”
“Look after him, Avery. He needs you, although he doesn’t know it.”
“If you say so. I’ll try.”
At lunchtime, I caught the Tube to Oxford Circus and headed to a large department store where Ethan had arranged an appointment with his personal shopper friend, Maria. I was slightly nervous, knowing my credit card was about to take a battering and just hoped I didn’t end up maxing it out.
Maria was a beautiful, older woman, with an open and friendly demeanour that immediately put me at ease. As she placed armfuls of clothes into the large and airy changing room, she chatted to me about Ethan. Apparently, she was an old family friend, and she’d known him for years.
“Here we are, Miss Jenkins. That should be everything that Mr. Barrett requested. If you’d like to try on the outfits, we can decide which ones to keep and which to discard,” she instructed me.
“Hold on—he gave you a list?”
“Only a short list,” she assured me. “Oh, and Mr. Barrett is covering the costs. He said it’s non-negotiable.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course he did.
According to Ethan’s list, I needed three outfits—one for the Friday evening drinks reception, one for the Saturday wedding, and one for the Sunday breakfast. I ended up choosing a beautiful scarlet red dress which clung to my curves, a stunning duck-egg-blue midi dress with a complementary fascinator for the wedding, and a pretty yellow wrap dress. Maria picked out some heels that she assured me would complement the dresses, then bagged everything up for me. Despite my protests, she wouldn’t even allow me to see the prices, let alone pay. I drew the line at underwear, however. Ethan Barrett was not going to buy me underwear—that would be plain weird. Plus, I would be the only one to see it. Thankfully Maria seemed to understand, so we chose a few pieces that worked with the outfits I’d bought, and my shopping trip was finished. All that remained was to head back to work and meet Ethan.
The lift doors opened at the basement level and there he stood. Long wool coat draped over one arm, leaning casually against a pillar, he watched me, his face serious, as I walked towards him.
“Ready?”
“I think so.” I trailed him to his jet-black SUV and climbed into the cool leather interior while he slung my overnight bag into the boot and laid my garment bags across the back seats. He slid into the car next to me, rolling his sleeves up and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. My gaze dropped to his muscled forearms flexing on the steering wheel, and my mouth went dry.
Ethan followed my line of sight. “Everything okay?” he asked, a hint of laughter in his voice as he started the engine.
I could feel my face reddening. “Y-yes. Everything’s fine. Is it hot in here?” I fanned myself with my hand, and he laughed, the bastard.
“I’ll put the air conditioning on, just for you.” Smirking, he fiddled with the dashboard controls and a blast of Arctic air hit me full in the face. I gasped at the shock.
“Hey! No ne
ed for that.” I huffed and folded my arms. Turning to stare at his profile, I could see the laughter dancing in his dark eyes.
“Enjoying the view?”
For goodness’ sake. As if my face could get any redder.
“I was just thinking that you looked…” I fumbled for words, and he raised an eyebrow. “Relaxed. Yes. You seem different.” Normally so serious, he’d completely flustered me with this new teasing side to his persona.
His expression turned thoughtful. “Hmm. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve left work early for the first time in my life.”
We stopped at a red light, and he glanced at me briefly. “Or maybe it’s the company. You seem to be bringing out my playful side.”
“I am?” My voice was a hesitant whisper.
“Yes.” He winked at me, and flustered, I had to turn away. I rummaged in my handbag to find my sunglasses and slid them on in relief. This was turning out to be a mistake. I thought we were becoming friends, but I was having feelings that went beyond friendship. Help.
An awkward silence descended between us.
Ethan cleared his throat. “Could you pass me my sunglasses, please? They’re in the glove compartment.”
“Uh, sure.” As I passed them to him, our fingers touched and I jumped. Bloody hell. This was getting worse.
“Music!”
“What?” His lips curved in amusement at my panicked shout.
“Music,” I repeated. “Music. We can’t have a road trip without some good driving tunes.”
“Be my guest.” He indicated to the touchscreen console, and I stabbed ineffectually at it, swearing under my breath.
A large hand landed on top of mine, stilling it.
“Avery.” One word.
I took a deep, calming breath. He traced his thumb lightly over my hand, just once, before withdrawing it. The small contact sent shivers through me.
I was so screwed.
“Sorry. This whole trip is messing with my head,” I told him honestly. I silently added and I think I’m developing an ill-advised crush on you.