PROLOGUE
BEA
Ilove dick, but I really fucking hate men sometimes.
As I strip my ruined panties from my legs in the supply cupboard on the nearly deserted third floor of Cunningham & Hartford, I wish—not for the first time—I knew how to be happy being alone. Landing a job at this prestigious marketing firm after graduate school was supposed to be everything I was told I should want. Instead, I’m silently grateful there’s a half-full bin in the corner to hide the expensive scrap of lace before I have to return to my desk. I inch my flared skirt over my hips, the hem grazing my knees.
A satisfied sigh slices through the sex-and-dust-scented air.
“I really needed that.” Rupert Cunningham III zips up the fly on his Tom Ford trousers, flashing me a smirk. With all evidence of our afternoontrysttucked into the uniform he wears in an attempt to look imposing, Rupert leans forward to wrap a hand around the back of my neck. I don’t stop him when he pulls me in for a quick, performative kiss. “You always know how to help me prepare for a stressful meeting, Bumble.”
The nickname should offer some warmth. It’s a purely physical arrangement, and it’s not like he’s married. It should soften the edges of this relationship we’re hiding in dark corners of the office and hotel rooms Rupert arranges.
It doesn’t.I hate it.
Rupert plucks his suit jacket from the hook on the door, smoothing it with his hands and checking it over before he puts it on and faces me. He runs a hand down the onyx tie and tugs at the cuffs of the crisp white shirt that barely shifted in his less-than-stellar performance. Then, with arms wide, he gives a spin, the unspoken request clear. I check him over, ensuring he doesn’t look like he just bent one of his employees over a stack of copier paper boxes and fucked her for approximately five minutes before pulling out and coming in her panties.
When I give him an approving nod, he opens the door enough for a cursory glance into the hall, then slips through without a backward glance. I locate my employee badge on the floor and reattach it to my hip. The ID and swipe card have been keyed for all the supply rooms in the building—access I shouldn’t have, considering it has nothing to do with my job in public relations. Just everything to do with Rupert.
But right now, I’m grateful for it. The department on this floor is undergoing a restructuring and is practically devoid of employees. With the extra security of the digital lock inaccessible to everyone, I can embrace the hollowness in my chest in peace. I hide my underwear under discarded boxes of paper clips and wrapping from reams of paper, then sit heavily atop the boxes I was just rutted on.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
When I met Rupert at the company’s holiday party, the spark was instantaneous. After an evening of flirting and drinks, he slipped me the keycard for his hotel room. The sex was amazing then, and the part of me that has always ached during thefestivities of December eased. I was so grateful not to be alone that I didn’t question why he insisted we keep things quiet afterward. I just lapped up every scrap of attention he gave in the absence of anything tactile and personal in my life.
Now, nearly four months later, the level of discretion has only deepened, and I can finally acknowledge: this arrangement is Rupert’s dirty little secret. I’ve become a horrible cliche. The young, promising junior employee who sleeps with her boss. Well, her boss’son, anyway. Like that makes it better.
Before I can spiral too far, my phone buzzes on the box above my head where I set it while waiting for Rupert to arrive. When I grab it before it dances close to the edge, I’m surprised by the name displayed, but swipe the call open immediately.
“Cal, did you miss me?” I hope he can’t hear the fakeness of my singsong greeting.
Callum Andrews, former NHL player and current coach for The New Haven Midnight. He also happens to be my best friend’s father, and the closest thing to one I’ve had in a long time. It’s been almost nine months since Violet moved to the States, where she took a job with her dad’s team. London hasn’t been the same without her. Mylifehasn’t been the same.
Having bonded on our first day of university, Violet has been my entire family since. With her dad’s schedule making trips home difficult to arrange, Violet and I spent every birthday, holiday, and vacation together. During those years, Cal even came during his off-season, welcoming me like another daughter. Albeit the more rebellious one, but loved just as much.
“Bea, I need your help.” Cal’s voice is steady, but there’s an obvious strain behind it. I’ve never heard him speak this way. My stomach swoops with concern, bottoming out at his next words. “Violetneeds your help. How soon can you get to the airport?”
CHAPTER 1
BEA
“You’re gettingmarried?!”
Violet snaps the door shut behind her and shushes at me to keep my voice down. Unlikely, given that she casually dropped that exciting piece of information when I caught her slipping a massive amethyst and diamond ring into her purse in the hallway five seconds ago. I look around the bathroom she unceremoniously shuttled me into, momentarily impressed by the antique copper finishes.
“Yes, I’m getting married.” Violet’s smile is so big it makesmycheeks hurt when I look at it. I don’t ignore the stab of longing that comes with her happiness, but I don’t let it dim the moment. I’m more thrilled for her than sad for myself, so I wrap my arms around her in a congratulatory hug. She squeezes me back, harder than necessary but exactly what I need. “Crosby asked me this morning, that’s why I hadn’t told you yet. The news is only a few hours old.”
“This morning? How?” I pull back, my eyebrows shooting up my forehead. The last time Crosby and I talked about hisplan to ask Violet, it didnotinclude the morning of a friend’s baby shower. I cling to my confusion, hoping it further sells my surprise. “That’s not what I would have expected from him.”
Violet just shrugs, a dreamy lift at the corner of her mouth where the megawatt smile has faded while she recounts the proposal. She steps back to lean against the vanity counter. “It’s a little unusual—I definitely would have thought he’d go a little more romantic: dinner, flowers, that kind of thing. But there was something also so uniquely Crosby about asking me because he couldn’t wait for that specially planned moment. I was just lazing around in bed, and he dropped to one knee beside me.”
“Well, the man is completely gone for you. It somehow makes sense,” I reason, knowing I’m still going to take the piss out of him later for failing to follow through on his elaborate plan. “It makes for a good story.”
“I just wish I’d been able to brush my teeth first!” she grumps, turning toward the mirror to check her hair. I wrinkle my nose, catching her eye in our reflection before we both dissolve into giggles.
I set a hand over hers on the cool granite, squeezing it in support. “I’m so happy for you, Petal. You deserve all of the best that man is going to give you.”
My vision goes a little watery as we both tear up.My best friend is getting her happily-ever-after.I scoop her into my arms for another hug, tucking her head under my chin. At five foot six, I’m her height but wearing taller heels. I like that the extra boost reaffirms the older-sister/younger-sister dynamic we have. With her arms wrapped around my middle, she sniffles before heaving a sigh.
