~ ~ Beatrix ~ ~

Three weeks later...I sat in the window of a sweet, homely café in Notting Hill, overlooking the busy market square. It was barely ten in the morning and even today on a Saturday it was overflowing with students from the nearby universities. Some stopping by before heading home following a hard night of drinking and sex no doubt. Others enjoying their first morning coffee before starting their day. 

The smell of coffee and freshly cooked breakfast attracted all others too. Little wonder it was also a place you would find young writers busy watching the lives of others whilst scribbling notes or tapping on their laptops.

Checking the time on my phone, I waited for my best friend slash personal assistant come, the best damn researcher I'd ever met—Ivy Simcox.

And, she was running late. Why I was surprised was news to me.

Looking out the window, it was busy around the market. Four years had brought about many changes. The cultural differences in the passers-by were a pleasant addition.

The booth seat dipped, and Ivy slid across toward me. "Damn, it's getting warm outside. Do these places not have central air?" She pushed back her loose spiral curls of her afro, puffing out a sharp breath. "I shit you not, I'm gonna die in here."

"Air con?  Nope. Just good old fresh air." They had propped open the door, but it barely let in more than a draft.

"I thought you said it rained non-stop in the UK?"

Quite often, but apparently the UK was having a freakishly hot summer, not a rain cloud in sight. "Enjoy it whilst it lasts, British weather can be very unpredictable."

"If this keeps up, I will head back home before you know it! A girl has standards and to not have A/C is an infringement of my human rights!" she melodramatically fanned herself. "C'mon everyone knows it's a basic requirement." She huffed. "It was the first thing I fixed when I found your apartment."

"Our apartment—you know you're staying... right?"

She grumbled, curling her top lip.

I grinned. Yeah, she would stay.

Ivy had followed me to the UK to help me settle in, both with a home and the London office at Peterson Publishing House. Sadie (most likely saddled with guilt) had kindly given her a huge allowance to furnish and decorate as she saw fit... and Ivy hadn't wasted the opportunity. Before we'd even left Canada, she had found the apartment and organised decorators. In truth, she'd gone a little overboard.

Not that I would complain. Ivy was the one person I trusted above all else. We'd bumped into each other literally on my first day at Peterson and clicked instantly.

Better still, she got me and worked just as hard as I did. And never once judged my arrangement with Sadie and Sean. But then again, she was a little kinky in the bedroom...and out of it. We had fallen in bed together a few times when under the influence of rum and tequila but realized we were better suited to being friends.

But that aside, in truth, she was the sister I'd always wanted. "I heard you leave at five this morning." She hadn't woken me, I'd been lay there, missing Sean and Sadie and running through the different scenario's for my first day in my new job this coming Monday. "What could possibly have dragged you out at the crack of dawn?"

"Kate from Human Resources emailed yesterday to say the info you'd requested was ready."

"What, you've been at Peterson's? Jesus Ivy, it's Saturday!"

She picked up my coffee and took a sip; the froth captured her top lip. "Ewe, you know I take coffee like my women...sweet, and hot." She winked.

I plucked my cup from her hands. "Too much sweetness will make you sick!" She almost pouted. "And look now. I have your lippy on my cup." I lifted a napkin to remove her red lipstick. "Get your own." She was the only woman I knew who could carry off red lipstick at this hour. Damn her and her beautiful brown skin.

"Bitch!" This time she did pout playfully.

I ignored her. "It could have waited. I was going to get in the office for six on Monday and hit the ground running."

"It won't give us enough time." She pulled up her satchel, unclipping to pull out a bulky file, sliding it toward me."

"What's this?"

"Duh, the personnel files. Only the staff I thought were of interest."

"Should you have them... here?"  I looked around to check nobody was listening—which was perhaps a little paranoid.

"Pfft, who's gonna know? Plus, I only printed the sections we needed. The rest is up here." She tapped her temple.

I gave her my best indignant glare.

"Stop looking at me like that. We need the inside track. And some of these babies are those who applied for your job... internally. We need to be on top of our game and muzzle any dogs." She tapped the file.

"Dogs? When did you get so dramatic?"

"I've been practicing—do you like it?"

I snorted a laugh. "Always said you would make the perfect drama queen."

She swished her hands in front of her, clicking her fingers. "Damn straight sister." She nudged me. "Anyway, enough of me. I'm not the enemy. They are!"

She wasn't wrong. Being handed this job and coming in from Canada I knew would cause waves with the London Staff. I was an outsider, an unknown. I knew how it worked. Back-stabbing and gossip only if I was lucky. Staff leaving and poaching authors if I wasn't.

"So only three internally applied for Mark's job?" She nodded. "Do I need to worry?" She got right down to business, reeling off the info from memory. Lucky for Ivy and for me, she was blessed with an eidetic memory...or laymen's terms a photographic memory.

"First off the bat—Thom James." She opened the first file in front of me and tapped his picture. "Peterson's Publishing very own Harry Styles wannabee. Fit as fuck but a total poser, smooth talker. I imagine he will be the first to try and get in between those fine legs of yours."

Wasn't happening as I glanced at the sheet of A4 information. Ivy, I would begrudgingly admit, was a superb judge of character, had this freaky sixth sense. She got a feel for a person just from a name. And to my knowledge, she'd never been wrong. And looking at his passport sized picture it reeked of sweet and innocent butter wouldn't melt charm, but with a sparkle in those charcoal eyes that cried out player.

That signalled trouble.

But my first rule of the office, no matter how sexy—Never shit on your own doorstep!

"Next."

"Urgh..." She pulled a face. "Harriet Von-Braithwaite."

"Jesus, that's a mouthful." My eyes ran over her pretty face, no way were those lips natural.

"Bitch, by all accounts. HR has had some complaints lodged against her. But nothing sticks."

I guess I could rule out us being friends. "You said there was a third?" I slid Harriet's sheet back toward Ivy.

"The last one. Goddamn, where is it?" She spread out the sheets of A4 in front of her. "Here. Yes. I think I found the male version of you. Dude has a modern English literature degree and law under his belt." She pulled out his HR sheet but hid it from me.

I'd only known one other person who had been interested in my field, shared the same passion for books and with the same credentials. Surely fate wasn't that fucked up that he would work for Peterson House Publishing?

"Here!" There was no hiding her smug face. "And before you see this one. I must warn you." She wiggled her eyebrows. "He's delicious with a side order of sin. Even with those nerdy glasses... man he's sexy. Has the whole Clark Kent—Superman vibe. And you know his body is gonna be solid underneath the suit." She practically swooned. "I think you might even break your rule for this one."

She placed the sheet down and slid it towards me.

Fuck!

Fate hated me, after all. Cameron Harte.

Fuck!

I stared at the image on the sheet. Four years had done nothing but make the man more handsome—if possible.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"What's the matter?" asked Ivy, as I ran my finger across the picture. "I'm right, yeah?" She drummed her nails on the table. "You think he's smokin?"

I groaned. "I think he's my ex, that's what I think." Heat rose up my neck and spilled across my shoulders.

"Seriously? Fuck, Trix!" She looked at the picture and then back at me. "It's your Cam. The Cam?" She grinned like a fool. "And look, his name is Harte... How cute is that?  Do you realise you never told me his surname?" She digested that nugget of information as if it had been some big state secret. "How weird is that?"

"I don't see what's weird about that and to correct your thinking—he's not mine Ivy."  My Cam... or not so much mine, would no doubt be happily married, living in a townhouse or a cottage with little ones running around.  It was the scenario I'd imagined many times over the years.

"Sweet-Jesus. You know what this is?" She was almost fizzing with excitement.

"No, enlighten me with your wisdom." No point in hiding my sarcastic tone.

"This is fate. The universe has spoken! You and him are working for the same company." She spluttered a laugh, eyes widening. "And even better! You're gonna be his boss."

I clicked my tongue, exasperated. "First off the bat—he cheated on me. Second, I'm sure there will be a Mrs Harte in the background pumping out the next generation of little Harte's—"

"—Nope, not married." She interrupted, shaking her head.

Fuck.

But that didn't mean he was available. Not that I was even remotely interested.

She took a moment to study me.

Ivy studying me was never a good thing. "I get it—the cheating part stings." She gazed at his picture thoughtfully, biting her lip before shaking her head. "I just can't see it. And you know I'm an excellent judge of character, he doesn't look the type to cheat."

"Ivy—it's a picture. Even with your magical powers. You can't tell jack-shit from a picture. Your radar is out of whack today." I shrugged. "And you're forgetting—he told me himself." I picked up my coffee to quell the churning in my stomach. Four years still hadn't taken away the rawness of the betrayal... the hurt and my heart obliterating in seconds seemed like minutes rather than years ago.

It hurt so much because I'd loved him for what seemed like forever. At my tenth birthday party, he'd given me a birthday card and kissed me on the cheek. He'd just turned fifteen, and I was a goner from that moment. Following him around like some lovesick puppy. He was also my brother's best friend, and I watched him grow from a geeky teenager into a hot man of pure drool, worthy of worship.

And I had worshipped him. Mind. Body. And soul.

We would spend hours talking about books even reading our favourites out loud to one another. I'd always remembered my dad saying mum was the other half of him and that's exactly how I'd felt about Cameron Harte.

"Hey," Ivy snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Where'd you go?"

I double blinked, my cheeks flushing as Ivy placed her hand on the side of my cheek, tilting my face toward her. "Hmm, I'm looking forward to meeting this man named Harte who apparently still has a hold on your heart..."

I jerked away. "He does not. You're batshit. Where did you get such an idea?" My tone did nothing to sound convincing.

"Err, let's think. You've been in a relationship with two 'old' people." She emphasized the old with finger quotes. "For three freakin' years and stuck with it because it stopped you getting in too deep... it was safe." She narrowed her eyes on me, and I was sure she could read my thoughts. "The guy did a number on you."

"You're being ridiculous, and Sean and Sadie weren't old!" She wasn't wrong about the safe part. I'd never given either of them more than I could risk losing.

"Well, compared to you, they were. You're twenty-six for god's sake. And we need to get you back out there. Something maybe a little normal."

"I don't think I could ever go back to normal." Sean and Sadie had opened my eyes, not just professionally but sexually they had been my first for so many things.

Ivy snorted. "Yes, I know you're a kinky fucker. But first you just need to open yourself up to possibilities."

She might be right. It wasn't like you could go around asking people if they were up for a threesome or a little light domination, but only in the bedroom.  And I'd never labelled myself bisexual, maybe more straight but curious? But I had cared for Sadie, more than I would ever admit to her or Sean.

"Anyway, getting back to your EX. I'm gonna be in the meeting when you two first clap eyes on one another. See if the chemistry is still there."

Ivy picked up my half-eaten slice of buttered toast and ripped off a chunk. "Ewe, it's stone cold." She plucked it from her mouth and popped it back on my plate.

"Really Ivy, you're gonna leave half chewed food on my plate." She waved off my protest. "And don't waste your time. Four years is a long time, he probably doesn't even remember who I am."

She gave me a look. "But speaking of hot men." She picked up her phone and typed out a message. "The personal trainer I found for you will be here any minute. And when I say hot, I mean melting panties hot."

"Panties? You're in the UK now, get used to saying knickers... panties are so American."

"Err, Canadian sat here. And ewe... knickers sound so, granny-ish. I'll stick with panties, thank you very much."

I laughed.

"Does your Queen Lizzy say knickers?"

I laughed again. "It's Queen Elizabeth and I highly doubt it." I put on a posh upper crust accent. "Fetch me my undergarments, good chap."

Ivy spluttered a laugh. "I like you here."

"What?"

"You, this past week. You've come alive since landing in the UK. You were much more reserved in Canada, as if you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or maybe it was the giant stick up your ass." She shrugged.

"Why thanks?" I rolled my eyes. But It was good to be home. My phone buzzed, and I picked it up to see a message from my brother, Sebastian. "Finally."

"Hmm, what?" she asked, trying to steal a look at my message.

"Seb, my brother. I was thinking he was avoiding me. I called round at the house, and no one was in. Left messages and he's finally getting back to me now." Me and Seb had drifted apart over the years. And the day they offered me the job in Canada, he went into the loft and found my suitcase and started packing for me. He even drove me to the airport to make sure I didn't change my mind, saying it was the opportunity of a lifetime.

I wasn't sure if it was because he felt guilty about Cam's cheating or that he had been forced to look out for me after Dad died—although I was eighteen at the time and Seb was twenty-two. Over the three years before I left, he would complain he should have been out partying or travelling instead of keeping his promise to Dad.

Even to this day, we hadn't spoken about what happened with Cam. In fact, he had cut off any sort of conversation on the subject. I wasn't even sure if they were still friends.

Sighing, my attention drew back to Ivy as she sat up and waved. Following her gaze, they fell on an impressive specimen of man, and my lips lifted into a smile.

Wow!

Heat flooded my body. Jesus, the man wasn't hot—he was walking lava!