CHAPTER ONE

      ‘IS THIS your idea of a joke, Jordana?’ Tristan Garrett turned away from the view of the Thames outside his tenth-storey office window to stare incredulously at his baby sister. She sat in one of the navy tub chairs on the visitors’ side of his desk, legs crossed, immaculately groomed, and looking not at all like a crazy person sailing three sheets to the wind—as she sounded.

      ‘As if I would joke about something so serious!’ Jordana exclaimed, gazing at him, her jade-green eyes, the exact shade of his own, wide and etched with worry. ‘I know it sounds unbelievable but it’s true, and we have to help her.’

      Actually, her story didn’t sound unbelievable at all, but Tristan knew his sanguine sister had a tendency to see goodness in people when there was none to see at all.

      He turned back to stare at the pedestrians lining the Thames and better able to enjoy the September sunshine than he was. He couldn’t stand seeing his sister so upset, and he cursed the so-called friend who was responsible for putting these fresh tears in her eyes.

      When she came to stand beside him he slung his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. What could he say to placate her? That the friend she wanted to help wasn’t worth it? That anyone stupid enough to try and smuggle drugs out of Thailand deserved to get caught?

      Normally he would help his sister in a heartbeat, but no way was he getting involved in this fiasco—and nor was she. He gave her an affectionate squeeze, but he didn’t try to contain the edge of steel in his voice when he spoke. ‘Jo, this is not your problem and you are not getting involved.’

      ‘I—’

      Tristan held up his hand to cut off her immediate objection, his solid-gold cufflinks glinting in the downlights. ‘If what you say is true then the girl made her bed and she’ll have to lie in it. And may I remind you that you’re eight days away from the wedding of the year. Not only will Oliver not want you getting involved, but I doubt the Prince of Greece will want to sit beside a known drug-user—no matter how beautiful.’

      Jordana’s mouth tightened. ‘Oliver will want me to do what’s right,’ she objected. ‘And I don’t care what my wedding guests think. I’m going to help Lily and that’s that.’

      Tristan shook his head. ‘Why would you risk it?’

      ‘She’s my best friend and I promised I would.’

      That surprised him. He’d thought their friendship had died down years ago. But if that was the case then why was Lily to be maid of honour at Jo’s wedding? Maid of honour to his best man! And why hadn’t he thought to ask that question two weeks earlier, when he’d found out Lily was coming to the wedding?

      He frowned, but decided to push that issue aside for the more pressing problem at hand. ‘When did you speak to her?’

      ‘I didn’t. A customs officer called on her behalf. Lily wanted to let me know why she couldn’t meet me, and—Oh, Tristan, if we don’t help her she’ll probably go to jail.’

      Tristan pushed back the thick lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead and made a mental note to book a haircut.

      Much as he didn’t want to, he could see that he needed to get tough with his sister. ‘Which is probably the best place for her.’ He scowled. ‘She’ll be able to get help there.’

      ‘You don’t mean that!’

      Didn’t he? He didn’t know. But what he did know was that his morning had been a lot better before Jordana had rushed into his office, bringing to mind a girl he’d rather strip from it altogether.

      Honey Blossom Lily Wild.

      Currently voted one of the sexiest women on the planet, and a talented actress to boot. He didn’t follow films but he’d seen her first one—some art-house twaddle made by a precocious upstart of a director about the end of the world. Tristan couldn’t remember the plot. What man could? It had Lily naked, save for a white oversized singlet and a pair of cotton panties masquerading as shorts, in almost every scene. The movie had signified to him that as a culture they were heading backwards—and people like Lily Wild were half the reason for that.

      He and his father had tolerated the girls’ teenage friendship because it had made Jordana happy—and neither man would ever have jeopardised that—but Tristan had disliked Lily on sight when he’d first come across her as a gangly fourteen-year-old, hiding drugs under his sister’s dormitory mattress. She’d been haughty beyond her years that day, and if he had his time again he’d suggest his sister be relocated to another boarding school quick-smart.

      Tristan heaved a sigh and returned to the smooth curve of his walnut desk, stroking his computer mouse to get rid of the screen saver. ‘Jo, I’m busy. I have an important meeting in half an hour. I’m sorry, but I can’t help.’

      ‘Tristan, I know you have a thing about drug-users, but Lily is innocent.’

      ‘And you know this how, exactly?’ he queried, deciding that humouring his sister might expedite her leaving.

      ‘Because I know Lily, and I know she doesn’t take drugs. She hates them.’

      Tristan raised an eyebrow. Was his sister for real?

      ‘Have you conveniently forgotten the fallout from your eighteenth birthday party? How I caught her hiding a joint when she was fourteen? Not to mention the various press photos of her completely wasted in between.’

      Jordana frowned and shook her head. ‘Most of those photos were fakes. Lily’s been hounded by the press her whole life because of who her parents were—and, anyway, she’s far too sensible and level-headed to get involved in something as destructive as drugs.’

      ‘And that would be why there was the scandal at your eighteenth? Because Lily is so level-headed?’

      Jordana glanced at the ceiling before returning resigned eyes to his. ‘Tristan, that night was so not what it seemed. One dodgy photo—’

      ‘One dodgy photo?’ he all but shouted. ‘One dodgy photo that could have destroyed your reputation if I hadn’t intervened!’

      ‘You mean if you hadn’t made Lily take the blame!’

      ‘Lily was to blame!’ Tristan could feel the old anger of six years ago welling up inside him. But it wasn’t like him to let his temper override common sense and he controlled it with effort. ‘Maybe if I had contacted her stepfather when I caught her with marijuana the first time she wouldn’t be in the colossal mess she is now.’

      Jordana briefly lowered her eyes before meeting his