Ethan.
Would he be responsible for this shitshow?
No.
It started before we were introduced. There’s no way he could have known, is there? I’ll get Declan to check him out, nevertheless.
I perch on the edge of the lounger and sip my own melted daiquiri. But my mind’s on other things. Ten minutes ago, everything was grand. Rosy even. At least on the surface. Now, everything’s turning to dust around me.
Was it grand really, though? Or was I deluding myself? Someone’s been targeting my artists for weeks.
I’m doing something unthinkable, falling in love with someone I can never have. Although lately, I could swear…
Chloe sits up, straightening her spine as if she’s preparing for battle. ‘I take it the shit’s hitting the fan?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
Her slim fingers reach out to take mine, but I pat the back of her hand and pull away. The situation I’m currently in is too precarious.
A flicker of hurt crosses her face and she leaps from the lounger.
In a split second, whatever intimacy we shared this morning has evaporated. Blown into oblivion.
Mrs Silver Spoon is back, and I don’t know if it’s because of the parent thing, or because I pulled away from her.
She grabs her beachbag, throws on her kaftan and stomps back towards the hotel car park. ‘I guess it’s finally time for all of us to face the music.’
‘Chloe wait. There are things you don’t know…’ Maybe I should just come clean about Lula. But how would that sound?
By the way, I want to date you properly, but I actually have to marry someone else.
No woman would go for it, let alone Chloe.
Her long, slim legs are no match for mine. I catch up with her in four deft strides.
‘Chloe, there’s’ so much more at play here. If you’d just let me explain…’ Her coldness chills me to the bone. The sudden urge to tell her about everything that’s happened this year is bursting in my chest.
Her head whips around to look up at me. ‘There’s nothing to say. We have a mutual problem. I need to go to Ireland. Sasha will need all the help with Victoria she can get right now. You need to set your reputation straight. And Ryan’s for that matter.’
‘And we’ll continue this,’ I motion between the two of us, ‘in Ireland?’
We’re both scheduled to be there in ten days anyway for Ryan’s Irish leg of the tour. And after that we just have Edinburgh and London, and that’s it.
Her features pinch into a frown as she assesses me from behind her huge Gucci glasses. Finally, what feels like minutes later, she offers a curt nod. The breath I’d been unwittingly holding soars from my chest.
I drive her car back to her villa and hop into a taxi back to the hotel I’m supposed to be staying in to sort out the shitshow that’s my life right now.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
CHLOE
Ireland
Returning to Huxley Castle is never easy. Pushing through hundreds of frenzied paps desperate to get a story from outside the front gate doesn’t help. The concert isn’t for another twelve days and the prospect of spending two weeks here, in the place I’ve avoided for the last ten years, is about as appealing as getting back into bed with Ethan-Has-No-Harte.
The absence of my parents is always painfully more acute here. At least when I’m away, I can pretend they’re all still alive and well, running the castle.
As I walk through the wrought iron front doors and into the ginormous atrium, my sternum tightens. The hole in my chest is back, bigger than ever.
