CHAPTER ONE

      Bryce

      TWO DAYS, THREE HOURS and…seven minutes.

      That was how long the email had been sitting in my inbox unopened. I detested that I was reduced to even knowing how long it’d parked itself in my consciousness, taunting me with its presence. Taunting me with that gut-twisting mix of hope and bitterness I thought I was finally rid of.

      How I wished it were one of those mundane work emails I’d become so adept at passing to my assistant to deal with. Then, from a safe distance, it would’ve been so easy to tell her to handle it. Or, better yet, delete it.

      But here it was. Not handled. Not deleted. And about as far from mundane as it could get.

      Not when her name was blaring from the ‘sender’ line: Savannah Knight.

      Not when the subject matter stated three simple words: I Need You.

      I tossed my pen onto the desk in disgust and shoved my chair backwards, swivelling away from the offensive email for good measure.

      Fuck this.

      Who the hell did she think she was? Not a single word in three and a half years. Then this?

      I’d held out for over two days. Long enough for her to know I wasn’t going to jump.

      A fragile but welcome burst of satisfaction settled my ire a little. She needed to know I wasn’t the same person who’d stumbled away from that quaint little chapel in sunny Sittingbourne, Kent, three summers ago a pathetic, emotional wreck.

      That man was long gone, after years of living on the edge of ‘Will we? Won’t we?’ was definitively answered once and for all: We won’t. We never will.

      In his place was someone I respected better but didn’t always like. A man whose future and focus were as steadfast as a striking sledgehammer.

      I might have deluded myself into thinking I was different once upon a time, that I could be softer, less… Mortimer, more…something else, but that time had long passed. For better and, I suspected, worse I was a bloody Mortimer down to my last cell. It’d just taken a little longer, and ironically her help, to make me accept my true self.

      Ruthless. Competitive. Take no prisoners. Crazy ambitious. And yes, sometimes, utterly selfish in my quest to achieve all the above.

      So why wasn’t that ruthless selfishness directing my finger to the delete button? One quick tap on the mouse and she would be erased as definitely as she’d erased me.

      Teeth gritted, I fought and irritatingly lost the fight, compulsion swivelling me back around to face my laptop. To the neat little blue rectangle of temptation taunting me with its secrets.

       Open me. Read me.

      With a tight curse, I clicked on it, my greedy eyes devouring the words.

      Bryce,

      I know this is out of the blue so…surprise! It’s a been a while, huh? Guess we’ve both been crazy busy.

      Anyway, a little bird told me you’re opening a brand spanking new building in Singapore. Congrats on all your awesome accomplishments, btw.

      But I’ll get to the point. I need you.

      I cursed that traitorous little flip in my gut when I lingered on those three words. Then forced myself to read on.

      More specifically, I need a space in your building for the launch of my flagship store.

      My team have researched several locations and they all agree your building will be perfect for my needs.

      Another little bird told me you haven’t yet accepted a bid for the ground and first floors. If that’s true—and I really hope it is!—I’d love to be considered for an initial five-year lease of the space.

      If my info is wildly inaccurate, then let me know.

      Look forward to hearing from you.

      Best,

      Savannah

      Anger blazed in my chest. Singeing. Devastating. So this was how she was going to play it? Act as if nothing had happened? As if we’d simply…fallen out of touch and she was initiating a reconnection while she had a few minutes to spare in her busy day?

      Well, I could do cool and impersonal. Hell, I was a master at it.

      I yanked my laptop closer and stabbed the keyboard with more force than was necessary.

      Savvie,

      No, scratch that. Best keep things formal.

      Savannah,

      It is a surprise. You’ll have to remind me how long it’s been if we meet in the future.

      Sadly, my schedule is atrociously tight, so these days I delegate requests like yours to my commercial leasing team. I’ve passed your request on to them—see cc above. They’ll be in touch at some point, I expect.

      Good luck with your launch, wherever that may be.

      Bryce Mortimer

      I hit ‘send’ with one last smug little stab at the button and lounged back in my seat.

      An hour later my glee had turned to ash. The button I’d clicked to let me know she’d read my reply had been activated almost immediately.

      She’d seen my email. Most likely read it.

      Anticipation had risen like an unstoppable tide inside me, only to crash back as the seconds ticked by without a further response. What did I expect? Contrition? Hell, an apology? A plea for me to grant her wish for old times’ sake despite my rightful disappointment in her?

      Delusion soured my mouth.

      We were both equally successful in our chosen fields. Why would she need a helping hand from me when she could reduce grown men into drooling schoolboys with a flick of her long, seductive eyelashes?

      Another sensation stabbed, this time the acrid jealousy I thought was long in my past.

      Fuck it. I rose from my desk, determined to put greater distance between me and my laptop before I did something foolish—like fruitlessly click ‘refresh’ on my email. The ping of an incoming message arrested my movement.

      Bryce,

      Sorry for taking up your precious time. But thank you for the good wishes and for passing me on to your team. I’ve emailed them directly.

      Excuse me for saying this, and perhaps it’s just in my imagination, but you sound…cold and distant.

      But…whatever. I’m around from tomorrow until the launch date in a little over a month’s time.

      I would like to see you again, Bryce, but I understand if your super-tight schedule doesn’t allow it. On the off-chance you haven’t turned into a robot and still like a good steak I’d love to buy you lunch.

      Let me know.

      Best wishes,

      Savvie

      PS Since you seem to need reminding, it’s been three years and four months since we last saw each other. Your memory used to be sharper than this. Guess some things do change!