Chapter 1
Thought of the day…
You divorced your ex for a reason.
There is no going back, no matter how much you miss them.
(And, yes, sexual fantasies count. Do. Not. Go. There.)
I’ve always loved the thrum of activity in Divorced Diva HQ – AKA the ground floor of my Chelsea terrace house. There are only four of us, but even so, it has the kind of anticipatory energy that makes it feel like something incredible could happen at any moment.
It was a Tuesday morning when that ‘something incredible’ was a life-changing phone call. I was at my desk, deep in thought, deciding which of a dozen photos to use for the ‘thought of the day’ post.
To the uninitiated, it might have seemed like an easy decision – the photos were remarkably similar.
But this wasn’t my first rodeo – nor my second, nor third.
A detail as simple as the angle of my chin or the look in my eyes could convey a multitude of meanings, and these factors combined resulted in precise, targeted messaging.
Chin up and to the left, eyes slightly narrowed: I have chronic PMT and will end you at the slightest provocation. Do. Not. Mess. With. Me.
Chin up and to the right, eyes lit up: I slept brilliantly and can handle any challenge you lob at me. Bring. It. On.
Empowerment or encouragement – which would land best? On Tuesdays, we typically favoured empowerment, a strategic way to get through the mid-week slump that comes between Motivation Monday and the lead up to the weekend.
Sticking to that strategy, I chose the don’t-mess-with-me photo and started on the caption. I’d typed Own your power when my PA, Ruby, interrupted.
‘Ally, I’ve got Julian for you.’
My thoughts came to a screeching halt. Why on earth was Julian calling?
My eyes went to my Divorced Diva desk calendar, and I did a quick calculation.
Julian and I met for lunch on the last Wednesday of the month, every other month.
If he was calling to make plans, he was more than five weeks early. No, this was something else.
‘Thank you, Ruby,’ I said with a smile. I picked up the desk phone and spun my chair to face the wall. ‘Jules…’ I said in greeting, dragging his name out.
He chuckled. ‘You sound wary.’
‘When it comes to you and unexpected phone calls, always.’
I paused, knowing Julian would fill the silence. He hates silences.
‘Well, right to it then. I have a favour to ask,’ he said in his crisp public-schoolboy accent.
Julian is big on favours – I suspect half of his dealings, business or otherwise, are the giving and receiving of favours.
I mentally sifted through our ‘favour ledger’.
Did I still owe him for the introduction to the head of guest services at The Dorchester?
No, I’d returned that favour by putting in a good word for him with Adele’s people.
Sure, it was the week before she announced her hiatus, but he didn’t know I knew that.
It counted and my debt to Julian had been cleared.
‘Let’s have it then,’ I prodded.
‘I need you to come to Aetheria. This Friday. Only for five days – maybe six.’
‘Aetheria?’ I asked.
‘My island. In the Aegean. The one I bought the year before last. Haven’t I mentioned it?’
‘Er, no,’ I replied pointedly. ‘I think I’d remember you buying an island, Jules.’
‘Well, I’ve built a resort here and it’s absolutely brilliant – well, it should be, I spent squillions on it. Anyway, you’re going to love it, Ally.’
‘Hold up, you’re getting ahead of yourself,’ I scolded lightly. ‘Now, before I agree to drop everything, what’s going on?’
‘Long story short: I’m in a bind and I need you to be the face of the resort.’
‘The face?’
I knew what he meant, of course, but there was something rather delicious about making Julian spell it out. And ask for the favour properly.
‘Don’t be coy – you know exactly what I mean,’ he retorted.
Boo – he didn’t want to play. It must have been worse than I thought.
‘Okay, okay,’ I said with a soft laugh. ‘Now, what exactly do you have in mind?’
‘Just the usual. The itinerary’s already been put together – all you have to do is be your fabulous self.’
‘And say lots of lovely things about the resort on camera.’
‘Precisely.’
‘So, go on then, who cancelled on you?’ I asked. There was no way Julian had left something this momentous to the last minute. He would have had someone lined up well in advance.
‘One of the Emmas,’ he replied.
‘Ooh, intriguing. Stone, Watson, or Roberts?’
‘I’m not supposed to say.’
I rolled my eyes, allowing the silence to unfurl.
Four seconds later, he said, ‘Watson. But there’s been a scheduling conflict. Reshoots for her next film so…’
‘So, you’ve come to your ex-wife, hat in hand, to beg me to do it. And with two days’ notice.’
‘You make it sound as if I’m desperate.’
‘Aren’t you?’ I teased.
‘The truth? Yes. The grand opening is less than two weeks away and all this was supposed to be sorted by now. And I’ve got this business deal to—’ He cut himself off, then sighed. ‘Look, if you aren’t up for it, I’ll ask the Sexy Single.’
‘Well, if that’s the way you want to go… I mean, Daisy Harrigan is a copycat pretender and she has nowhere near the reach that Divorced Diva has, but it’s your choice, Jules.’ That should call his bluff, I thought, gently swinging my chair.
He chuckled down the line again. ‘Sometimes I forget how well you’ve got me pegged.’
That hadn’t always been the case, but I didn’t say anything.
‘Look, desperation aside,’ he continued, ‘you’ll be wonderful – perfect even. I should have asked you in the first place.’
‘All right, Jules, no need to butter me up. Now, just bear with…’ I pressed the hold button before he could respond. ‘Ruby, how much of a nightmare would it be to clear my calendar from Friday to… let’s say Tuesday?’
‘This Friday?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll check.’
Unfazed as always – Ruby never reacts to any situation with more than a slight furrow between her brows – she started typing rapidly on her keyboard. Moments later, Claude beelined for my desk from across the office.
‘Is that Julian?’ she asked, glancing at the phone’s blinking hold light as she perched on the edge of my desk.
‘You know it is, and I know exactly what you’re about to say.’
Her mouth bunched to one side. ‘Just promise me you’ll run it past me before you say yes.’
Claude ran operations and partnerships, so technically, I was supposed to check with her before agreeing. But this wasn’t her being the boss – this was my big sister sliding into protective mode.
‘He wants me as brand ambassador for his new resort – well, the Divorced Diva.’
She sighed, tilting her head. ‘Ally, I get that you’ve made peace with him, but he can’t just cash in on your success. Especially considering how he—’
‘I’ll be charging him an eye-watering amount,’ I assured her, cutting her off. ‘And think about it – an exclusive resort… very wealthy guests… I’m sure Julian would return the favour by introducing us to some new benefactors.’
Her gaze softened, but the frown didn’t budge.
‘Ally,’ Ruby called out, ‘if we move the podcast recording to tomorrow and I postpone the photoshoot in the Cotswolds for a week, I can easily sort everything else.’
Unflappable, our Ruby – one of the many reasons I adore working with her.
‘Thank you. Maya, any glaring clashes you can see?’ I asked.
Maya Wylde, the fourth member of our team, is a marketing whizz/wunderkind who I poached from my former employer when I established Divorced Diva as an LLP.
She runs our social media campaigns across multiple platforms, manages our online community, coordinates a team of offsite contractors (i.e.
influencers), and writes all our messaging.
Well, except for the thoughts of the day – those are strictly mine.
‘I can move a few things around,’ she said. ‘And there may be some cross-promotions and brand synergies to explore – with the resort, I mean. I’ll just need a contact.’
All Maya had to go on was what she’d gleaned from eavesdropping, and she was already strategising.
‘Thanks, Maya,’ I replied. I looked at Claude, arching my brows. ‘Well?’
She exhaled through her nose, then nodded. ‘All right. But on one condition.’ She leaned in, her voice low. ‘Don’t let him charm you into bed.’
‘As if I would,’ I whispered, stung by the suggestion, even though I knew it came from love.
Claude gave me a look – the one that said I’d made worse decisions with less temptation. She wagged a finger at me. ‘Don’t.’
I swatted her hand away, and she returned to her desk, trailing that inescapable air of big-sister authority.
I rarely regretted bringing Claude on at Divorced Diva. It had been the perfect antidote for her post-divorce blues, making her too busy to wallow and paying enough to keep the wolf from the door. And she was an absolute pro – the most organised, meticulous person I knew.
But at times, the line between her role at Divorced Diva and being my sister blurred. This was one of them.
There was no way in hell I’d ever sleep with Julian again – not when I was perfectly happy on my own (taking the occasional lover when it suited me). But more importantly, hooking up with an ex went against everything Divorced Diva stood for – never go back, never repeat past mistakes.
I wasn’t about to risk everything I’d built just for Julian – no matter how good he was in bed.
And Claude knew that. Or she should have.
* * *
Friday rolled around quickly – time sped up when you had to clear a jam-packed schedule – and I spent most of the day in transit. Not my favourite aspect of travel, but is it anybody’s?
With apologies that his private jet wasn’t available, Julian flew me from Heathrow to Athens in business class, then sent a helicopter to collect me from there.