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Cas followed her into the living room, pressing buttons on his phone. “Pizza ordered. Twenty to thirty minutes. They’re busy. I know your boss Martin. He did not saysweet.”

“It was in his tone. His words were ‘Thank you for your ongoing support of Jackson. He’s learned a lot from you.’” She shucked her jacket, then sank onto the sofa and heeled off her boots.

“They last longer if you undo them and slip them off.”

“Thank you, Papá.”

“So, it’s rebellion, not laziness driving your behaviour.”

“Lovely word ‘rebellion.’ I’ve never rebelled against a blessed thing. See, I couldn’t even manage a damn then.” She sighed loudly.

“And from what you said earlier, I bet you didn’t knee Martin in the balls because he worked out too late that you’re the brains behind Jackson’s ideas.”

She giggled, and his cock stirred.

“I even kept to myself that Jackson wouldn’t learn another blessed thing from me as long he lived. Back to Mo. He approached me as I was leaving the show. He overheard parts of my conversation.”

“Old habits die hard. He was checking out the competition. That’s what I’d do.”

Since moving in with Beatriz, Cas was spending more time in the boxy spare room on his designs than his business plans.

“Checking out fabrics and dyes and new ideas. It becomes an addiction.”

Designing for Beatriz was becoming an addiction. His designs were all pastels, because someone with Beatriz’s energy needed a soothing place to sleep—and curves because Beatriz was his inspiration, and he wasn’t sure these designs should be made public. He bent to pick up her boots and set them on the floor at the end of the sofa.

“What were your majors at college?”

“Business, marketing, art.”

“Tell me about the art.”

“Why don’t you go and get changed?”

“Into something more comfortable?” She giggled. “They say that in old movies. It’s a euphemism.” She was adorable when she giggled.

“Is it now?” He’d play the game to the end.

“You slip into something comfortable as a prelude for slipping into nothing at all, and then you slip into bed.”

“Are we going to bed?”Say yes.

“Youare going to bed.Iam going to bed. But in the time between now and then, we can share a pizza, then a hot chocolate and apparentlynottalk about your art major.”

“Mo and I planned to start a business together. But he told you that. It’s why you invited me along, then quietly disappeared.”

“Tell me your side.”

He removed her jacket from the back of the sofa and flopped down beside her, unable to resist rubbing the lapel between a finger and thumb.

“Mo has the expertise in printing. My contribution was the design. We’re both pretty passionate about fabrics, but he has the deeper knowledge of what fabrics can take what colours and dyes. We had a rudimentary business plan. We were both working day jobs and doing this on the side.”

“Any success?”

“Does that matter?”

“I imagine it mattered to you and Mo.”

“We had some success. Did some bespoke designs for a few big brands, were nurturing contacts, gaining confidence and hoarding our coins.”