‘I always liked you, Ryan. I knew you’d come back at some stage. Just do me one favour? Whatever you do, don’t break her fucking heart again. I know she’s projecting this whole ice-queen persona right now, but believe me, it’s all an act. The girl is still as soft and warm as she ever was – only now she can’t afford to be, because she has a lot more responsibility to deal with.’
Megan turns back to the suite, grabs a tray she must have brought up with her and carries it outside to the patio furniture. She fills two china cups with steaming coffee from a gleaming silver pot. Handing one to me, she motions for me to sit.
‘Is it too cold out here?’ She’s only got that blazer on and it doesn’t look particularly thick.
‘Don’t be daft. I’m not the one who’s used to the Californian climate.’
I raise my hands in resignation. It’s fucking freezing, but there’s no way I’ll let her see me squirm.
‘Welcome home.’ She clinks her coffee cup against mine.
‘Thanks. It’s great to be back.’ I mean every word. ‘So, how’ve you been? What’s been happening the last ten years?’ I wrack my brains trying to remember her brother’s name to ask how he is. When I asked to see the manager, I certainly didn’t expect her.
‘Same old, same old.’ Megan rolls her eyes. ‘Not much changes here. You’re the one with all the excitement going on. How does it feel to be world famous? Is LA crazy cool or what? It looks like you’re living the dream over there.’
My mind returns to my plush villa, the lavish cars, the vibrant city and the rat race that’s my life there as I try and summon the words to describe it. ‘It’s big, bright, flashy. Some people love the constant parties and the lifestyle. I’ve done my fair share of it along the way, don’t get me wrong. But it’s kind of soulless or something. Lacking in reality and meaning. I prefer to chill by my pool a lot of the time. I can’t go out without getting hounded, so it’s just easier that way.’
‘First world problems.’ Megan nudges me with her elbow and smirks. ‘Speaking of problems, is there something wrong? I believe you requested to see the manager?’
‘Nothing’s wrong exactly. I just need a bit of help.’
She nudges my ribs again jovially. ‘If you’ve blocked the toilet with a huge murky shite or something you’re supposed to call housekeeping not the manager.’
‘I’mGQ’smost eligible bachelor – I shit rainbows, I’ll have you know.’
Her lips part and hot breathy laughter clouds the winter air between us.
‘On a serious note, does this place have a landing pad still?’
‘Oh god, who are you flying in? Not that arrogant brother of yours, I hope?’ She arches an eyebrow in question.
‘It’s not so much who I’m flying in, as who I’d like to fly out for a while.’
‘Ah ha. That, I can help you with.’
Megan winks, approval stamped all over her face. At least she seems to be onside because god knows I’m going to need all the help I can get.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
SASHA
I wake in Victoria’s bed. She’s spreadeagled across the centre, leaving me clinging on the edge. Through the dim morning light filtering through the edge of the curtains, I see her eyelids are closed, a peaceful expression on her face. She might be turning eighteen next year, but she’ll always be my kid sister.
Slipping out of bed, I pull on a kimono-type robe and pad across to the coffee machine. The opening of the suite door causes my head to jolt round in alarm. None of the staff ever let themselves in here, not even to clean the place. My office door is always open, my bedroom door is distinctly more private.
Familiar auburn curls appear a split second before the rest of my best friend’s head and body.
‘Megan? What the hell are you doing in here at this hour? Is everything ok?’
I race through a variety of scenarios that might require attention this early, none of them pleasant, but her self-assured grin reassures me nothing’s too wrong.
She turns to the doorway and beckons for someone else to enter, only piquing my curiosity further.
Tilly arrives, carrying a huge tray. On it sits the most beautiful display of two dozen crimson roses elaborately tied with a gorgeous lace bow, a pot of fresh coffee and a plate full of Danish pastries, which smell like they’re straight out of the oven.
‘Is it my birthday or something?’ Suspicion taints my tone.
‘No.’ Megan’s smirk is decidedly smug.
