I really did hate the Tube—especially during peak hours—but if I'd learnt one thing over the past few months, it was the value of friendship. Becca and I had both contributed to the eventual collapse of our relationship, and I couldn't let it happen again.
So I stood in the corner of the carriage, near enough to the door that the rush of air—though warm and stuffy—helped curb my anxiety each time we reached a platform. A brief respite from the crowded interior. An easy exit if I needed it. The courage to keep pushing through the uncomfortable journey.
Because as much as I hated the Tube, I loved my friend, and that meant putting in the effort rather than risking complacency or hoping that everything would turn out okay in the end.
When we arrived at my stop, I leapt out of the train before the doors had fully opened and hurried up the steps and escalators until I reached daylight. Despite the muggy June heat, a dark cloud loomed overhead, and I quickened my pace, arriving at the restaurant far more hot-and-bothered than I'd intended.
I leaned against a lamppost to catch my breath and plucked out my water bottle from my handbag. Taking a few sips, I watched the city unravel around me: commuters rushing to the station, couples strolling hand-in-hand, parents clinging onto young children.
I loved London.
"Thought we were meeting inside?"
My gaze drifted from a group of unknown teenagers to a familiar face, looking a lot neater than I probably did.
"Only just got here," I said, dropping the bottle back into my bag. "Rushed from the station and needed a minute. All good now."
A waiter greeted us as we stepped inside the restaurant, showing us to a table tucked away in the corner. The noise from the room faded into a quieter hum as we moved out of the busier section and into the much more secluded space.
"Using your connections to get us the best seats?" Gabby smiled at me as she pulled out her chair.
I laughed. "No. Coincidence, I swear."
After ordering drinks, we settled into easy conversation, catching up on each other's days while successfully avoiding the elephant in the room. It wasn't that I wanted to talk about Becca, but the longer Gabby and I escaped the topic, the more awkward it risked becoming when it finally did come up.
"How's Becca?" I asked.
Better to get it over and done with, so we could enjoy our evening without it hanging over us.
Gabby shifted in her seat, eyes cast downwards as she studied the menu, although not actually reading a single dish.
"It's fine," I said. "I don't want you to feel awkward mentioning her just because you're still friends. I'm never going to hold that against you."
A white tooth pierced her cherry lips as she glanced up at me. "It's not that," she said.
"Then what?"
"She's talking to Mike."
The words tumbled from her mouth in haste, softly spoken yet still delivering a painful blow to my gut, my insides clenching from the impact. Pink coloured Gabby's cheeks as her knuckles turned white from where she gripped the menu. I wasn't the only one wishing I'd not asked.
And still, after all this time, I couldn't decide whether I was more hurt by Mike or Becca. They hadn't kept in touch after uni, as far as I knew. One of them had chosen to reach out. And the other had decided there was something there worth exploring.
"It's fine," I said again, even if I didn't quite believe it. "Neither of them owes me anything. Becca and I don't talk anymore, so she's not really breaking any rules. And she always liked him, right? So... Good for her."
Forcing a smile, Gabby lowered her sympathetic gaze back to the menu, and I latched onto an opening to change the subject.
"Speaking of old friends, I saw Mac last week."
"As in McIntosh? Lawyer Logan?" Gabby's eyes lit up, the tension leaving her shoulders.
"Yep. He's a real lawyer now."
"Huh, that's awesome. I knew he couldn't be pissing around in his classes as much as he was pissing around out of them."
"Right?"
As the waiter arrived to take our order, we pressed pause on the conversation. I smiled as Gabby all but created a new dish with the various amendments she wanted to make. Without so much as a raised eyebrow, the waiter noted everything down and told her no problem.
"I'll just take the burger," I said, passing over my menu. "As it comes."
He flashed me a smile and promised to be back soon.
"So, was it a date?" Gabby asked, tearing my eyes away from the waiter's retreating figure. "With Mac?"
I scrunched my nose. "No way."
"Why not? He's hot."
"He's hot, but I'm not interested. We met up as friends. That's it."
"Still not over Teddy?"
I shrugged, playing with the edge of my napkin. "We have decisions to make."
"About the job?"
The contract had been well and truly scrutinised by a lawyer. Although he assured me there was nothing unreasonable in there, he still made some revisions. How much of that was his job and how much was due to Mac's insistence that I be given the VIP treatment, I'd never know.
When I'd first reached out to Mac, I'd shared a very vague rundown of my situation so he could quote me appropriately. After I'd gone with a different firm and we'd continued our conversation on a more personal level, Mac was adamant that he didn't want to know the name of the public figure I was entangled with due to all the legal processes involved.
At first, I hadn't understood the need for anonymity, but he explained that he had several high-profile clients—whose names he would never be able to reveal to me—and he didn't want to find out anything that could either put him in a difficult position or prove to be a conflict of interest.
In his not-so-legal terms, ignorance truly was bliss. And that suited me just fine. I quite liked having a friend who knew nothing. It was a refreshing break from a world that had become consumed with Teddy Stone.
"Yeah," I said to Gabby. "Now that I know the contract's okay, I only need to decide if I want to sign. So Ed and I need to sit down and have a frank conversation about what our relationship looks like going forwards. It will ultimately be my decision whether to take the job or not, but it's still a talk that needs to happen."
And it wouldn't just be a conversation between Ed and me—it would be between my head and my heart, as well.
*
"Let me be clear: this is a one-off. I am not a taxi service." Mark shifted the car into gear as I secured my belt and relaxed into the soft leather of the front passenger seat.
"There's no risk of me mistaking you for a taxi driver, Mark." I tossed him a grin and rested my elbow against the window. "They're much friendlier than you."
We joined a queue of slow-moving traffic. Even though travelling by car took a lot longer than by Tube, I still preferred it. Plus, I was testing the waters with Ed.
Since that first step more than a month ago, we'd seen each other regularly. History almost felt like it was repeating itself—a conversation after a concert leading to a series of meet-ups—but without all the deception, second-guessing, and manipulation. We'd taken it right back to basics rather than trying to pick up where we left off, but neither of us could forget how explosive our chemistry could be.
We felt it every time we hugged, each embrace a little tighter with hands a little lower than appropriate; we felt it when we bantered, the jibes verging dangerously close to flirtatious; and we felt it whenever we caught the other person's eyes roaming hungrily over exposed skin, tight clothes, or moving lips.
Then, during late-night conversations, vulnerability would meet courage. We spoke about how we wanted to try again once the time was right. We'd both done things in the past that suggested we hadn't cared for each other, but we were both determined to put it behind us and prove that our feelings had been real.
All that said, I hadn't expected him to come through on my request for Mark to pick me up, but maybe I'd under-estimated either the strength of his relationship with his top protection officer or his persuasion abilities.
Still, he'd stepped up, and I knew it was only a matter of time before a test came my way, too, and I had the chance to prove my own loyalty and commitment to fixing things.
"Good day?" I asked Mark.
"It was."
I rolled my eyes. "It's not that different. Rather than standing still and watching Ed, you're sitting still and watching traffic."
Apart from the tiniest tick in his jaw, he didn't rise to it. But that was fine. With the speed we were moving, I had plenty of time to get a reaction from him.
"Do you not know any shortcuts?" I asked.
"No."
"I bet if I were Ed, and we were being pursued by paps, you'd magically find a shortcut."
"You're not Ed, and we're not being pursued."
We edged along, and I stretched out my legs into the footwell, tilting my head against the glass as I watched pedestrians make faster progress than us. At this rate, we'd struggle to arrive at the studio in time for midnight. Ed's new song—as much as I hated it—would drop without me there supporting him, and that would knock me back several steps on my part of our journey towards repairing the friendship.
"There's honestly no quicker way?" I asked.
He breathed out a barely concealed sigh, knuckles whitening around the steering wheel.
"Trust me, Sophia: I don't want to be sat in this traffic any more than you do."
Ten minutes later, we reached a roundabout. Rather than following the traffic across it, Mark took a right, and the road opened up. I couldn't help wondering if this was a detour designed to stop me complaining, but the faster speed was welcome.
"Better?" he grunted out.
I flashed him a smile. "Much."
It must have been an unconventional route, though, because no other cars joined us on the empty stretch, and we drove alone until we approached the slip road for the dual carriageway.
Mark braked as he prepared to merge with the busier lanes of traffic, but instead of pulling into the first gap, he slowed further until we were almost back to crawling.
I battled between wanting to question why we were barely moving when trying to join a dual carriageway and not wanting to distract him during a potentially dangerous manoeuvre. A quick glance in the wing mirror reassured me that we weren't about to be rear-ended by a faster motorist at least.
Another gap formed, and Mark waited, and waited, and—
His foot hit the pedal, and the car roared forwards, pulling me back into the leather seat as my hand lunged for the arm rest. I swung my startled gaze across to Mark, but his face remained void of emotion, sharp eyes focused on the road as the engine grew louder and the speedometer ticked up to forty, fifty, sixty...
Then he eased off the gas, and the speed levelled out. Mark flicked on his indicator and cruised across into the middle lane to overtake the car in front.
"What the fuck?" I spluttered.
"Thought you wanted speed?"
"I thought you'd lost your mind!"
"Losing my mind would have been pulling that move when there wasn't a big enough gap for me to safely accelerate from twenty to seventy."
I scoffed. "Or you could have just stayed at forty, then accelerated slowly to merge onto the road like a normal driver."
With a glance in the rear-view mirror, Mark flipped the indicator again and cruised back into the left-hand lane.
"Make you a deal," he said. "I'll drive normally the rest of the way if you stop moaning about me driving normally."
I opened my mouth to bite back, but then thought better of it. He'd made his point: he was the one in control of the car—not me. So I plastered on a compliant smile and closed my eyes for the remaining journey.
*
"Thought you were going to stand me up." Ed rose from his seat and pulled me into a hug, the solid walls of his tall body crushing my chest as he enveloped me in that intoxicating, spicy scent.
"I was tempted, but then you sent me the photo of these cakes."
Withdrawing from his embrace, I plucked a mini cupcake from the nearby plate and began to peel off the wrapper.
"Didn't eat enough at dinner?" he asked.
"I ate plenty," I said. "That was nearly three hours ago, though. Gabby and I had a lot to catch up on, and then traffic was bad."
Ed collapsed down onto the sofa, tucking a leg beneath him as he twisted to face me. He patted the space beside him. We'd stolen some privacy in the studio's waiting area, but once the clock ticked closer to midnight, we'd have to join the rest of his team in the next room across.
"You feeling okay?" he asked as I settled down and began to pick at the icing on the cake.
"Absolutely fine."
He quirked a dark eyebrow, lips twitching. "Sure?"
"Why wouldn't I be? You've written a scathing song about me that will no doubt top the charts for weeks on end. Every girl's dream, right?"
Reaching across the sofa, he squeezed my knee. "Artistic licence, remember. We're all good."
Despite initially going rogue by playing his new song at the charity concert last month, Ed had since gained the full backing of his team and label. The song had been recorded, I'd given it my blessing—I'd been asked out of courtesy, not obligation—and tonight it would be officially released.
If it hadn't been about our relationship, I might have liked it. But I couldn't ignore how the pain we'd both caused each other had served as the inspiration, and even if we were moving past it, I would never be able to enjoy the track.
"I'm here, aren't I?" I said. "Supporting you. Cheering you on. Willing it to do well—for your sake. On a professional and personal level."
His mouth curved into a grin, cheeks dimpling. "Try to sound a little less begrudging. You're getting cupcakes out of it."
I held up my cake in toast. "True."
Helen poked her head through the door, nodded at me in acknowledgement, and then tapped her watch at Ed.
"Ten minutes," she said.
Ed nodded. "We'll be out in five."
After the door swung shut again, I turned to the beautiful man beside me. I had five minutes alone with him.
"Whether the song soars or tanks—" I began.
With a scoff, Ed rolled his eyes. "Thanks."
"Whatever it does, it doesn't change anything between us. I'm still all in," I said. "I was thinking during the journey over, I want us to put something in place. Like an agreement."
"Another contract?"
I shook my head. "No. A verbal agreement."
Nodding, Ed's eyes dropped to my mouth as I sucked a finger covered in icing between my lips. The short space between our bodies prickled with energy, but I stayed on track. This was important.
"Something that promises we'll have each other's backs," I continued. "No matter what. I think... If we had that in place, I could take the job."
A small crease formed between his brows as his eyes lifted to mine. "That's the only reason you wouldn't have taken the job?"
To delay answering, I slipped the remaining cake into my mouth and planned my words carefully. I didn't want to offend him; I wanted him to know how serious I was about us having some kind of relationship moving forwards.
"If I take the job, it might put some constraints on the type of relationship we could have. We need to think about professionalism or conflicts of interest if you're my boss. Or if I'm your boss..." I flicked my wrist over my head to dismiss that line of thought. "Whatever the dynamic turns out to be."
His expression softened. "Sure. So how does this agreement come into it?"
"If we end up working together, I still want to be there for you. So I want something between us that symbolises what we've gone through in the past and our commitment to looking out for each other in the future. If you need something from me, I want you to feel like you can ask, and I'll come through for you. Always. With no exceptions."
Ed scraped a hand over his jaw in thought, and the overhead fluorescent light bounced off the face of his watch, reminding me that we were against the clock.
"So, essentially... It's a commitment to each other. Loyalty. No matter what."
I nodded. "I still want to work on us. To make things right. I don't want that to stop just because I'm part of your team, but it's going to be trickier if we have to maintain a professional relationship. Hence why I want us to have something that keeps a personal relationship afloat, too."
Ed cleared his throat and extended his arms in a stretch over the back of the sofa, the pad of his thumb scratching at the velvety fabric.
"It's too early to know what our relationship will be like once we're working together," he said. "But I'm on board with this idea. Let's agree on it now before anything else gets in the way. You and me, in it together, unconditional support."
His fingertips squeezed my shoulder, and I leaned across for a hug, melting into the warmth of his chest.
"Unconditional support," I said. "Unlimited favours."
"I can definitely get on board with unlimited favours..." His suggestive words were hot against the shell of my ear.
"Not sexual favours."
"Think we need to thoroughly define the scope of this favour agreement, in that case..." Yet his mouth curved in amusement against my cheek as his hand skimmed up my spine, nestling deep within my hair.
"Broad scope." I fought to keep the needy tremble from my voice as I brushed my lips along the sharp ridge of his jaw. "Nothing else is off the table. This agreement is supposed to be about friendship."
"Guess if I want sexual favours from a friend, I'll have to get them the old-fashioned way, then. Middle of the night when you're desperate, for example..."
He was teasing, but my stomach still fluttered at the memories, remembering how mind-blowing the pleasure had been that time. And every time that followed...
Who was I kidding? Even if we were purely professional or purely friends, I'd never be able to ignore the chemistry that burned between us. I'd never be able to forget how good he was in bed. And the fact he looked this devastatingly handsome would continuously draw my mind back to those two facts.
Even now, as he tilted his face to capture my mouth in his, my body curved into him, fingers clutching fistfuls of fabric as I kissed him back with zero attempt to resist. A familiar heat returned to my veins, and I fought against the temptation to crawl onto his lap and tear off his shirt.
It could have meant anything. A surrender to the tension that had built from the flirting. A promise for the future. A commitment to loyalty.
But whatever it meant, all that mattered was that we were two people who felt something for each other, even if we'd failed to show that properly in the past.
We drew apart and Ed brushed a thumb along my cheek, tender eyes locked on mine.
"I'm all in, too," he said, barely above a whisper, acknowledging my earlier words.
My heart lurched, a happy warmth blanketing it. Whatever the future held for us, I was excited to experience it with him.
"In it together," I said.
Smiling, Ed pecked my lips once more. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he hauled himself off the sofa and held out a hand to help me up.
As we ventured next door to meet the rest of the team, I stole a glance across at him.
"Ready for another number one?" I asked.
He winked and threw an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. "Already got my number one."
END OF BOOK 1
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