"Fair trade." He raised his brandy glass. "To finding our way?"
"To finding our way." She clinked her glass against his. "And to surviving the rest of this holiday without either of us accidentally propositioning the wrong person."
"Speak for yourself. I make no promises about Lukas."
"Just try not to do it in front of your grandmother."
"Deal." Ambrose drained his brandy and stood up. "Right, I think this calls for a celebration. Fancy a drink in the snooker room?"
Sasha blinked. "The what now?"
"The snooker room. It's got a proper bar and everything."
"You're joking."
"I'm really not. This house has six living rooms, Sash. Did you think we wouldn't have a snooker room?"
"I suppose I thought that was just something people made up. Like having a butler."
"We have Davies."
"Davies is real? We sure he’s not a robot?"
Ambrose grinned. "Come on, let me show you just how ridiculously posh my family really is."
???
Victoria powered down her laptop with a sense of satisfaction she hadn't felt in days. In the past two hours, she'd managed to send off applications to six different firms, update her LinkedIn profile, and schedule three phone interviews for the following week.
It was amazing what she could accomplish when she wasn't distracted by blonde hair and green eyes and the sort of quick wit that made her stomach do things like attempting a somersault.
She changed into her pajamas and settled into bed, but sleep seemed elusive. Her mind kept wandering back to the terrace, to the way Sasha had looked in the dim light from the house, to the moment when she'd almost…
Well. When she'd almost done something spectacularly stupid.
Victoria stared at the ceiling and allowed herself to think about what might have happened if Ambrose hadn't interrupted them. If she'd closed that final distance between them, if she'd kissed Sasha the way she'd wanted to…
The idea sent heat pooling low in her stomach.
Maybe Chloe had been right. Maybe this enforced break from work was exactly what she needed. When was the last time she'd had a proper holiday? When was the last time she'd done something spontaneous and reckless and purely for her own pleasure?
She could have a summer fling. Nothing serious, nothing that would complicate her life once she got back to London. Just two weeks of… exploration.
Except Sasha was supposed to be dating Ambrose. Fake dating, but still. It would be complicated and messy and exactly the sort of situation Victoria usually avoided.
But then again, her usual approach to life had just resulted in unemployment and lying to her family, so perhaps it was time to try something different.
Her hand began to drift beneath the covers, and she let her mind wander to thoughts of Sasha's smile, the way she'd looked in that sundress, the tantalizing glimpse of her in the greenhouse with her wet clothes clinging…
A crash from somewhere beside her made Victoria bolt upright, her fantasy interrupted by what sounded like rushing water and creative cursing.
"Oh, bollocks," came Sasha's voice through the wall, followed by more crashing and what might have been Sophie shouting.
Victoria grabbed her dressing gown and rushed into the hallway, where she found chaos. Water was dripping through the ceiling near the main staircase, and Sasha was standing in the corridor in soaked pajamas that left very little to the imagination, looking thoroughly miserable. She did, Victoria thought, seem to spend an awful lot of time getting wet.
"What happened?" Victoria asked, trying not to stare at the way Sasha's wet nightshirt was clinging to her curves.
"Pipe burst," Sasha said miserably. "Right above my bed. Everything's absolutely drenched."
