Chapter Three

      Sofia motioned for another bourbon, slamming it back as soon as the glass was in her trembling hands. Had she really thought she could walk up to Isaac Blue and leave unscathed? He was scorching hot, unpredictable and totally infuriating. Half an hour with him had made her revert from a sophisticated professional to a panting teenager. She should have slapped him. She should have found his bad-boy antics crude. The problem was she didn’t.

      Never once had she felt the need to drown her sorrows after a day on the job and here she was, throwing back booze as if her life depended on it. Her only saving grace was that she’d managed to wait until five in the evening, the socially acceptable drinking hour, and that she’d got in touch with an old friend to join her.

      Belle appeared in the doorway and quite a few heads swiveled around to watch her as she made her way toward Sofia. There was no denying that Belle was a knockout especially in a leather miniskirt and boots. She looked like Grace Kelly and dressed like a pop star—every guy’s fantasy. More than a few of the men murmured appreciatively as the two blondes hugged one another before settling back onto their barstools.

      “I’m so glad you could come on such short notice. I was worried about dragging you from your fiancé,” Sofia said, grabbing Belle’s hand and inspecting her insanely gorgeous engagement ring.

      “Stuff and nonsense.” She waved off Sofia’s concern with her free hand while preening under the attention. “He’s out of town and my flatmate has recently discovered the joys of sex.”

      Sofia laughed at this, letting go of her friend’s hand. “Hot guy?”

      “You could say that.” Belle gestured to the barkeep for a drink and then turned back to Sofia with a wide smile. “So what brings you to town—business or pleasure?”

      Sofia grimaced at the reminder of Isaac. Right now she needed Belle to distract her with tales of London and wedding plans and booze.

      Belle cocked her head to the side, studying her. Sometimes it was like looking at a mirror, Sofia thought. Belle had the same naturally blond locks and fair skin. They’d even managed to fool a few teachers during the years that they’d attended the same boarding school in Suffolk while her father opened the London branch of Maxximum Studios. Even now, they could probably pass for sisters if they could still pull off each other’s accents.

      “Out with it, Fia,” Belle demanded.

      Sofia sighed and shook her head. It was going to take a lot more to get her talking about Isaac than Belle’s demands no matter how insistent she became. “No one calls me Fia anymore.”

      “I do.” Belle ordered another round. “You’re not getting out of telling me.”

      “You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead lips,” Sofia said, taking the new drink with a tight smile.

      Belle laughed. “No, I won’t. I’ll just have to pry it from your warm, drunk lips.”

      Sofia raised her glass and the women clinked the rims. “Challenge accepted.”

      * * *

      Two hours later Belle hauled Sofia from the billiards table where she was bragging to a group of amused men while swinging a pool cue in erratic, dangerous arcs around her.

      “Ah, Belle! I was going to kick their asses!” Sofia flopped into the corner booth and accepted a glass of water grudgingly.

      “You are pissed,” Belle said, giggling. “You must hold a lightweight record.”

      “I’m jet-lagged,” Sofia pouted.

      “You’re not just drunk, though.” Belle wagged her finger at her knowingly. “Fia, your feathers are ruffled.”

      Sofia took a deep breath, but the bourbon coursing through her bloodstream was making it impossible to hold back the truth. “Daddy sent me over here to do a turnaround.”

      “It must be going well,” Belle said dryly.

      “You have no idea.” Sofia dropped her head to the table, trying to sort through the thoughts and emotions swimming in her alcohol-soaked brain. She couldn’t discuss a client with Belle. Sofia might not be a licensed therapist or a doctor, but she took confidentiality as seriously as if she were. Still, Isaac was hardly a regular client, and after how she’d lost control this afternoon—after she’d come close to reaching out and wrapping her hands around his hot, stiff dick—she was increasingly sure he couldn’t be. Being around him was too tempting. Suddenly the fantasies she’d once deluded herself with were returning in full force. Isaac sweeping her off her feet. Spending one more night in bed with him. A turnaround on Isaac meant forcing herself to relive the pain he’d caused her. There was no way she was going to let him break her again.

      “Tell me about it,” Belle coaxed.

      “It’s Isaac Blue!” His name burst from her mouth before she’d really decided whether or not she should share. But now that the cat was out of the bag, she couldn’t stop the details from pouring out of her. The arrests. Her father’s call. The tart in his hotel room. By the time she’d got to naked Isaac Blue grabbing her wrist and kissing her neck, Belle was watching her dreamily, her elbow propped up on the table and her chin resting on her hand.

      “Belle!” Sofia tried to snap her fingers, but they weren’t working quite right.

      Belle blinked a few times as if she was waking from a dream. “I’m sorry. I just... Isaac Blue! Thanks to that partial nude scene in Death Race I have a pretty good visual of this afternoon. Care to fill me in on the full-frontal details?”

      Pressing her lips together, Sofia shook her head.

      “He’s one of the sexiest men alive! People Magazine told me so.” Belle held her hands up defensively. “And if you were really my friend, you’d spill.”

      “He’s packing heat offscreen, too,” Sofia admitted. She couldn’t help it. Something about Isaac made her want to giggle and gush to a girlfriend. No one had ever had that effect on her since him.

      “I knew it!” Belle fanned herself.

      “Now can we concentrate on what the hell I’m supposed to do?” Sofia asked in exasperation.

      “You still have it bad for him, huh?”

      “I do not have it bad for him!” Sofia hesitated, steeling herself as she prepared to rip the mental Band-Aid off that covered the wound of their relationship. “You never saw us together. I was in love with him. Completely. Totally. And I honestly thought he loved me. I mean, I was eighteen and too stupid to know better.”

      “I still want to know why you’re so certain he wasn’t in love with you,” Belle said gently, reaching across the table and taking Sofia’s hand. She’d experienced her own dose of bad-boy induced heartbreak in college.

      “Let’s