And that's what you look like now. Full circle.

  I worked my ass off to shake every ounce of my upbringing and become something that challenged my father. I normally stood by a moral compass that he didn't have. I took care of business that he didn't. And now, I'd thrown that all away for a round of stupid decisions.

  You can make different ones.

  I knew that. I was wishing I had made different ones. The problem was that with the fury and the loathing came rash decision-making, wanting to fulfill my own prophecies. And so yeah, Anisa Bucker had happened.

  Wife to Darian Bucker. Wealthy financier, rich kid set for life. His wife had been eyeing me. Bought me a drink. So yeah, I'd dragged her into the wardrobe and shagged her. I didn't care about her, hadn't thought about her, really. All she'd said to me was, 'So, I hear you no longer have a fiancée.' And that had been it. I didn't know that there was someone around to capture a photo.

  Because you were careless. You lost focus. You were finally everything that your father ever said you were.

  And now it was going to fuck with our plans.

  But still, Brenda's idea was no kind of solution. I wasn't fucking getting married. I'd just finally dropped Mina. All the tabs knew about Mina was what we'd fed them. Under no circumstances was I going to let her come up looking like roses. All they'd been fed was that I'd broken up with her. Which was important. And we'd cited irreconcilable differences. People could read between the fucking lines. And ever since the split, the women had come out of the bloody woodwork.

  Not that I was complaining. After all, I was a bloke. I liked women. But when I'd been with Mina, I hadn't stepped out once. I wasn't my father. He was more of a pompous ass who didn't give a fuck who he hurt. Mina hadn't been an exactly right fit. On paper she was, but there was always something a little aloof about her. But once I'd made my decision, she was it. Only to find out I'd been wrong about her.

  It happened to the best of us. But it was never going to happen to me again. I was not getting married for the sake of the London Lords. I was not getting married for the sake of Toby Varma.

  Toby had been one of my best mates. When he died, it had rattled me. Toby had been like me. Someone who didn't belong. The product of our fathers' extracurricular indulgences. Someone unwanted, shuffled around, discarded, and forgotten. My mates were like brothers to me. Ben, Drew, East. We were thicker than mates; we were family. But Toby, Toby had been the one who got to me. And then one day he was gone. Just gone. A lot of what I did now was to make up for him too. But this... I would not get married. Not to fix this. We'd have to find another way. We just would.

  There was a knock at the door, and I checked my phone to see if security had texted me. Nothing. I frowned as I approached the door and checked the security panel. The woman on the other side was more than familiar with her dark hair pinned artfully in smooth coils and a sophisticated up-do. She wore a mid-length cocktail dress that looked like it had been painted on but was somehow still sophisticated. Diamonds on her ears. I debated not opening it, but I needed to find out how the fuck she got up here.

  So I opened the door. "What do you want, Mina?" As exes went, I sure could pick them.

  Her lips were glossed in Pink Perfection. Her signature color. I should know because I had taken her to Brew's Cosmetics when she'd been under the delusion that she wanted her own cosmetics line. We had gone as far as testing out some samples, and then she'd gotten bored. I'd spent a lot of money on endeavors for her, and she'd always gotten bored. There was nothing she seemed to like doing at all. That lipstick was the only one she'd done. Pink Perfection.

  "Is that how you talk to your fiancée?"

  I choked a laugh. "We broke up. Don't you remember?"

  "Yes, I remember that you were a bit miffed with me. Do you mind us not doing this in the hallway? It's conspicuous."

  I crossed my arms and leaned on the doorjamb, not allowing her in. "No, we can do it here just fine. You're not coming in. There are security cameras left and right. I want to make sure the timestamps are clear."

  She lifted an arched brow. "What do you think is going to happen?"

  "With a woman like you, I don't know. You'd do just about anything for money, wouldn't you? You really think I haven't seen it all? I have. I won’t have you accusing me of hurting you or anything. You're staying right out there."

  She blinked rapidly. "You think I would do that?"

  She seemed to have forgotten she’d promised to tell everyone about my supposed cruelty. I didn't want to know what that entailed, so better to have her on camera. "That's the point, Mina. I don't know what you would do. So every conversation we have is going to be public. I don't have anything to hide, so I don't give a fuck who hears. But there will be security footage. Always."

  She sniffed. "What I wanted to talk to you about, we can't talk about out here. It's private."

  "You want to talk about all the times we shagged and I wondered if you were thinking about someone else?"

  I watched as her skin went pink from her breast up to her neck, to her pale cheeks. "We never had a problem in the bedroom."

  "Well, I made sure you didn't." My personal philosophy was no one went to sleep until my partner came. That morning’s yoga situation was an anomaly. It still didn’t sit right.

  She blinked rapidly. "That is uncouth, Edgerton."

  I shrugged. "It's also the truth. What do you want, Mina?"

  "Look, I saw the papers. The photos of you. I know what they're saying. Playboy Bridge Edgerton, really living up to the moniker. Bridge Edgerton has gone off the rails. Heartbroken. Spinning out. I know that can't be good for you. I am willing to help you."

  I laughed genuinely for the first time in weeks. "What? How do you plan on helping me?"

  "I know they're making it seem like you're spinning out, but we can spin this. We'll just say we got back together and we've been working things out. We'll make up some bullshit about couple's therapy, and everything will go back to normal. Let's be real; you've missed me."

  I tipped the corner of my lip up into a sneer. "Oh yeah? What makes you think I've missed you?"

  Her smile was pure evil. "You forgot what happened in your office not too long ago?"

  My fucking office, right.

  She'd walked in, begging me to take her back, stripped naked, and then straddled my lap. Refused to let me lock the door, hoping someone would interrupt us. And okay, I'd given in. I fucked her the way I'd always wanted to. The way she would never allow.

  Completely unrestrained. Mina had been very strict. She only ever had sex in the bed or the shower. Nowhere else. She had zero interest in it. Even in the house, she rarely would let me eat her out, and most of the time she didn't want me touching her breasts.

  I wasn't allowed to leave bite marks, beard rash, or other marks on her skin. Everything expertly restrained. For years I thought someone had hurt her, so I'd done my best to be gentle. But that day, I hadn't felt like being gentle, and she'd said and done all the right things. And hatred or not, if I was going to fuck a woman, she was having an orgasm.

  She had come—twice. But there had been something in her eyes. They were empty, calculating. And I could see that the whole scene had been about control. And I made a vow that I was never touching her again. I knew from that moment, everything had been a lie.

  "Look, this is dangerous for you. I know how you worry about appearances. All you have to say is that it was me you were with. Hell, I'll say it. That we were making up. Everyone will like the love story, and we can go back to our lives."

  "Your life? You mean the life I gave you?"

  She pressed her lips firmly together. "The life I've gotten accustomed to. I wanted to become Mrs. Bridge Edgerton. But you've been distant for the last several months. I know your friends have poisoned you against me."

  "Oh, really? You think it's them? The only one that hated you was Ben. Now I know that the others knew about you. And they thought I loved you enough, so they didn't tell me. Ben though, God, he has always hated you. And he could see it. I don't know why I missed it."

  She pursed her lips again. "He just didn't like that I had your time. He's very controlling, you know."

  "Right, he's the controlling one. Got it. Get on with it, Mina."

  "Fine. I will help you. We’ll get married. Something quick, not big and lavish. Just a hundred people or so. Tasteful. At Hyde Park or something. We'll invite the paparazzi."

  "Uh-huh, this sounds amazing. What do you get out of it?"

  "You mean besides the honor of being your wife? A ten-million-pound payout. A million pounds a year for ten years. After that, we can go our separate ways. Tell everyone we gave it a good try."

  I laughed. "Oh, is that all? Ten million. It's a drop in the bucket."

  But she wasn’t done yet. "And well, you're going to give me Belgravia. After all, I decorated it. And the equivalent of one of your hotels, so I can continue to earn money."

  I laughed then. "Oh, wow. So all that, and what do I get?"

  She tilted her chin and met my gaze. "And then I won't tell anyone about that dirty little secret you have at the Austrian boarding school."

  I studied her. I had always thought Mina a magnificent beauty. Her pale alabaster skin. Her dark, sleek hair. There had been something vulnerable about her once. Like she needed taking care of. But I could see now that had been part of the act for me. This Mina was cool and calculating.

  I had thought I loved her. I thought she needed me. All those things were appealing to me at the time. But I don't actually think I ever really loved her. Not the way I should have. "Wow, you're just going straight for the blackmail."

  "It's not blackmail. I'm just saying, you're already in trouble. For you everything carries on, I don't tell anyone about Austria, and I get my life back."

  I pushed myself to my full height then. And that was the only time she took a step back. What? She thought I was going to hurt her? I'd never put my hands on a woman.

  You did spank Emma last night.

  I ground my teeth just thinking about her. I swallowed hard against the flash of need. The immediate tingling.

  Fucking Emma. Intruding on my thoughts right now. It was always inconvenient.

  What about all those times you fucked Mina and thought about her?

  Nope, I was not doing that. Not right now. I shoved those thoughts back into their locked dungeon in the recesses of my mind where they belonged.

  "Well, Mina, you've given me quite a thing to think about."

  She sighed. "The clock is ticking. The offer only stands—"

  I held up a finger to her, interrupting. "Well, my first answer is not if you were the last fucking woman on earth. Not if your pussy was lined with gold. That's my initial answer. I will come up with one that is more thorough with a little time."

  Her eyes went wide. "What did you say to me?"

  I slowed down my speech so she could hear me properly. "I said…" I inhaled deeply, wrinkling my nose at that rose water scent she always used. It was always far too much, trying to smell sweet when honestly she was decaying on the inside. "That I wouldn't marry you even if your pussy was lined with gold."

  She raised a hand to slap me, and I grinned and tsked. "Uh-uh-uh. Cameras, remember? Cameras."

  As it turned out, Mina gave not one fuck about the cameras as her palm connected with my cheek, quick and sharp. The thing was, I think it hurt her hand more than it hurt my face.

  I glowered at her. "Now, if you darken my doorstep again, I will have you removed. How did you get up here anyway?"

  "Everybody knows me. They know I'm your fiancée. They assume we're still fucking."

  "Then I'll fire them. Every single person you talked to from the moment you walked in this place, I will fire them. Don't come here again."

  "Why, you—"

  I simply stepped back into my loft and closed the door while she was still speaking.

  Chapter Five

  Emma

  I tugged nervously on the sleeves of my Chanel blazer. I'd gone casual with jeans but paired it with a silk blouse. I knew Francis Middleton. I'd known him for years.

  I still remember his father as he'd come inquiring how my mother and I were getting on after Toby died. I remembered his father's calm demeanor, affable smile, warm hand. He'd brought his son as a shadow. Francis didn’t say much, but I remembered his eyes on me.

  Curious.

  As if he was looking for something in me. I didn't understand at that time what it was. I was too numb honestly. They'd come not a month after Toby had died. They offered their help and, assistance. A job for Mum. A new school for me. A fresh start. At the time, I thought it was because our father was one of them. One of those special men in fancy cars with tinted windows. Men who exuded power.

  I didn't know anything about my father really, or the Elite then. But Francis and his father were just like him. Slick. Powerful. Rich. Those qualities exuded off of them in waves. It was unavoidable. You could tell.

  Over the years, Francis had checked in. A call here. A visit there. Running into each other at an event. He was polite, but his gaze was always searching. He was handsome in that beautiful, pale, and very British sort of way. Bland. Even though he had centuries of wealth behind him and a name nearly as old as the queen's herself. But he'd always watched me with keen awareness. It wasn't until later that I'd learned that he had been one of the ones responsible for Toby’s death. So what had he been looking for?

  Maybe he was looking for some kind of awareness that I knew deep down his family had covered up Toby’s death. Hushed up my brother's death when they could have prevented it. They could have saved him, protected him.

  But as I waited in the sitting area of Middleton Communications, I tried to force a placid smile on my face. If I wanted access and answers, I was going to have to play the part. Act my ass off, actually.

  I heard the padding of feet before I felt the tingle of awareness. As always, it carried a hint of… Danger might not be the right word, but it carried a certain feeling that made me uneasy.

  "My God, Emma Varma." He skirted around the massive oak table in the center of the room to come over to me and take both my hands in his . The crisp scent of his Tom Ford cologne enveloped me as well.

  "Francis, it's good to see you."

  "You can imagine my surprise. I didn't realize that you were on the schedule today."

  "Well, I called earlier. I told your secretary I wanted to surprise you."

  He lifted his brows. "I welcome the surprise and lucky for you, I have some time. Do you want to grab lunch?"

  "Well, maybe in a bit, but I mostly wanted to talk to you about something."

  "Ask anything. I have always said, as has my father, that if you or your mother ever needed anything, we're here to help you. Toby was a friend."

  I ground my back molars but forced my face to stay neutral. Francis had been no friend to Toby. I knew that. But the lie tripped off of his tongue so easily and with such skill that my sense of unease prickled again.

  "Of course. Actually, I'm just back from New York, and I’m looking for a job."

  His brows lifted and he dropped his hands, slipping them into his pockets. "Oh, really?"

  "Yes. Of course, I wanted to just see what you might have open. I wouldn't want to use our connection. I assure you, I’m more than qualified."

  He nodded. "Of course, of course." He waved his hands dismissively as if that was even a question but he’d go ahead and find me some job that I may or may not be qualified for, simply because I knew him and he owed me. "Well, I can talk to our Director of Marketing. I'm sure she could help find room for you on her team."

  I gave him a wan smile. "Actually, I've been in crisis management for the last several years. I worked for Turnings and Forster." The crisis management division was where I’d find anything pertaining to my brother if it existed.

  He blinked rapidly. "Oh, wow. All right. I know they're mostly United States-based, but they have some foreign clients, and for those that they can't handle, we do some work with them."

  I smiled. "Yes, I'm aware. Which is why I'm here."

  "Oh, I just assumed that because we knew each other, you wanted to catch up."

  "Of course. It’s always lovely to see you.” I lied through my clenched teeth. “My job at Turnings and Forster was great. I had some amazing clients. And while I enjoyed New York, I figured it was time I return to London. I missed being here. So, here I am."

  He cleared his throat. "Right. Of course. I mean, when was the last time I saw you? Two years ago? Or maybe it was a year?"

  "About a year and a half, I think. Somewhere around there."

  "Yes, yes. I remember you said you were thinking about going back. I hadn't seen you around, so I just assumed that you hadn't returned."

  "Yeah well, I had to get Mum settled. She's had a foot here and a foot there for some time. She has moved permanently to New York now."

  "Well, that's good to know. I'm so glad things are working out for her. She has family there, doesn't she?"

  The small talk was killing me. Get to the bloody point so you can give me a goddamn job and I can get out of here. But I didn't say that out loud. "Yeah, you know, she's happier there." I shifted on my feet. "I, however, missed London and my people. So while looking for a job, I figured I’d come to the best."

  He smiled wolfishly at that one as he eyed me suddenly, assessingly. I was aware of the way men looked at me usually. I knew some would always try and please me, and some would try to determine ethnically what I was. Though I was quite brown, I screamed Indian or Middle-Eastern or something, at least. But they were never quite sure.

  "Turnings and Forster, that's impressive, Emma."

  "I'm aware." I left it there. I felt like women were socially programmed to make men comfortable. I had zero intention of doing the usual bullshit, talking a lot, trying to explain why I was as good as my male counterparts. He clearly knew the firm I worked for and what I was capable of. So I knew he would make some calls and find out that I was good at my job and that I wasn't playing. "I'm not sure I have anything available for you, Em. But, like I said, I can ask a few questions."