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‘You are not allowed to scare this one off,’ Tej announced by way of a greeting.

‘This one what?’ Chase growled. It was the third call he’d fielded from his old friend/new business partner that day.

‘You can thank me later.’

‘Thank you?’

‘You’re welcome,’ Tej announced with glee.

‘No, wait. What?’ Chase asked as he dug a thumb into his throbbing temple and fielded the cell and his water bottle in the other hand. ‘Who?’

‘The new director of comms. She starts Monday.’

Chase let out a scoff. ‘Shouldn’t I have had some say in hiring?’

The mountain of boxes next to him shifted their weight from one high-heeled foot to the other.

‘Yeah, well. We didn’t really have time to fuck around, my friend. We’re opening in just three months, and your last hire quit.’

‘Before I could fire her,’ Chase pointed out.

‘And this one can start tomorrow. So there.’

‘Name.’

‘Bella Carmichael.’

Chase frowned. Why did he recognise that name? Did he? Or was he just so hungover his brain was playing tricks on him?

‘She’s—’

‘A pampered princess socialite,’ he remembered now.

The boxes shifted again.

‘She has a degree in Business Management and Communication from Harvard.’

‘They all have degrees,’ Chase ground out. ‘Isn’t her father something big in aerodynamics?’

People like Bella Carmichael didn’t have dads, like his. They had fathers . Mothers. Maters and Paters .

‘How can you remember that, and not my birthday?’ Tej asked defensively.

How could he not? The day he’d landed back in the States, the papers had been filled with headlines about the Redondo Runaway Groom, or something like it. The damn catchy alliteration had stuck.

Miles of column inches had been full of speculation as to why the groom had disappeared – many laying the blame at bridezilla-Bella’s feet.

Someone had knocked together a guestimation of how much the entire wedding had cost. It was a mind-numbing amount of money, even to Chase, who had at one point been considered to be one of the most sought-after contemporary artists around the globe.

And certainly inconceivable to the son of a mechanic and a librarian.

The black-and-white pictures of the abandoned reception at the Californian vineyard had felt almost crime-scene worthy; slashes of white silk rippling in the wind from ribbons tied on the backs of empty seats, an ornate flower garland arbour where the bride and groom should have stood.

He and Annalise hadn’t had anything like that. Jesus, they’d had a registry office and his best friend as a witness. At the time it had felt urgent and romantic and fucking idiot that he was, he’d thought he was the luckiest guy on the plant.

No. Chase knew exactly who the luckiest guy on the planet was. The Redondo Runaway Groom. Chase could only imagine what kind of bridezilla could scare off a fiancé on the day of their supposed wedding, despite the volume of scrutiny they were under. Clearly, the guy had made a lucky escape.

And now Chase was lumped with that very same bridezilla.

‘Does she even have any experience?’ Chase demanded. ‘Why does she want this job, huh? So that she can swan around New York saying she works at the Nayak Gallery?’

‘Dude,’ Tej exhaled. ‘There are genuinely worse reasons.’

‘No, there aren’t,’ Chase bit back, knowing that it wasn’t true. He wasn’t quite sure why he was so adamant that he didn’t want her working there.

His mind’s eye flashed him a black-and-white photo of her on her supposed wedding day.

The camera had caught her mid-turn, hair in some sleek updo, lace slashed across her torso, the delicate arc of a shoulder blade highlighted in shadow.

Her face, pure elegance. Even in the midst of such chaos.

Her grace had somehow infuriated him. Because surely, she couldn’t have remained so calm if she had even an ounce of feeling for the person who had betrayed her?

He hadn’t.

‘Jesus, Tej. If she can’t even hold down a groom, how is she supposed to hold down a job?’

‘Okay. Enough, bro. You’ve got your grump on, I get that. And usually I’m amenable to that, given… you know. But now you’re just being mean.’

Being scolded by Tej was like being scolded by your favourite school teacher, or your grannie. As someone who was almost singularly good-natured, it was the verbal equivalent of, ‘I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.’

What was worse was that Tej was right. Chase was being mean. He had absolutely no idea what kind of person Bella Carmichael was and he – of all people – wasn’t in a position to make assumptions.

Chase began to mumble something about a headache, but Tej pressed on.

‘She is qualified for the position, she does have experience, I do have faith that she is what we need, and I think that you will both work excellently together. And since she’ll be living next to you, I expect you to be on your best behaviour.’

Chase’s gut tightened as he side-eyed the boxes in the elevator beside him.

Shit. Fuck. Shit .

He glanced at the floor numbers on the elevator panel and only his floor was lit up. His floor.

Their floor?

Oh God, this was bad.

‘Gotta go,’ Chase said, swiping across the phone’s screen and slipping it into the pocket of his gym shorts.

He bit his lip, mentally wincing. It was possible that the person behind the boxes, boxes usually used for moving things, like a person’s life into a new apartment, wasn’t the person he’d just been mouthing off about.

Possible. But horrifyingly unlikely.

The elevator arrived at the floor and the doors opened.

‘After you,’ he said, voice gravelly from the guilt lining his throat.

The boxes rippled. Was he imagining things? Christ, he hoped so.

But as the boxes passed him, he caught a glimpse of a high cheekbone and a sleek blonde chignon.

Fuuuuuck. He inwardly groaned.

He ran his hand through his hair as he followed in her wake. There was no shaking this off. Christ , what had he called her? A pampered princess socialite?

He kept his eyes firmly above ass level as she walked straight over to the door opposite his and put the boxes down to reach for her key.

‘Do you need a hand?’ he offered reflexively before wincing at the look she gave him as she straightened up.

‘No,’ she answered. And then, as if absolutely incapable of stopping herself, she added a ‘thank you’, that was as much ‘fuck you’ as humanly possible.

There were slight traces of red slashes across her sharp cheekbones and he could see it. Why she’d made such an impact on him.

She looked him dead in the eyes.

Complex and varied shards of grey slammed at him like an assault. The flecks of gold both hot as fire and cold as ice, reminded him of Turner’s Snow Storm . Movement, slashes of anger, defiance, determination.

And for the first time in nearly twelve months his right hand twitched. The itch as if from a phantom limb, taking him wholly by surprise. He rubbed the back of his neck to buy some time as he gathered himself.

‘Look, I’m s?—’

The door slammed before he’d even finished the word.

And yes. He deserved that.

* * *

Just Desserts WhatsApp Group. 21.36EST.

Bella

That man is a… you know what.

Paige

You can say it, Bella. We’re all adults here!

Sienna

What happened?

Astrid

My money’s on Bella meeting Chase Miller.

Bella

The man is a menace. The worst kind of snob. Mean and utterly undignified.

Astrid

Sounds like Chase Miller.

Bella

I. Am. Going. To. Make. Him. Pay.

Paige

Yes you are!!

Astrid

You go, girl!