Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Stella
“Think about it as if he’s the genie.” Florence’s voice crackled out from the speakerphone as I finished up brushing my teeth.
I took a sip of water from my glass, rinsed my mouth, and spat it out. “Have you been drinking?”
“I’m serious. Hot Suit’s the genie.”
“What? And I’m the lamp? Well, he’s not getting inside me.”
“No, you crazy pervert. You’re Aladdin.”
I rolled my eyes. “And he’s going to grant me three wishes?”
“Exactly. He said to think about what you want. You might not be going for partnership at your recruitment consultancy, but maybe he can help you get a different job.”
“Have you forgotten the price the genie’s asking me to pay? You can’t think that it’s a good idea for me to go to that wedding. I’d rather stab myself through the hand with a rusty knife over and over.”
What was Florence thinking? She didn’t even want to go to the wedding. A wedding was about celebrating two people in love, not watching two people who had lied and betrayed you in the worst way possible start their lives together.
“Of course, going to the wedding would be horrific,” Florence said.
“Well, we both agree on that.”
“But . . .”
What was she thinking with her buts? There were no acceptable buts in this situation. There was no way I was going to that wedding.
“You really want your business back. Your life back. Right?”
“Of course.” I wanted to rewind to back when Matt loved me, and we were happy together. But I didn’t know when that had been. Had he and Karen been sneaking around behind my back while we were in Manchester? Was the reason we’d come to London so they could be together? I took another swig of water.
“If Beck can give you that, then maybe a few days at the wedding would be worth it.”
Had Karen got to her? Had someone convinced Florence that what Karen and Matt had done wasn’t so bad? “Beck can’t rewind time. He can’t stop Matt and Karen getting married.”
“If he can’t undo your past, he might be able to make your future better.”
I couldn’t think about the future. I was still stuck in the fog, trying to figure out which way was up.
The two months before the invitations arrived, I’d gone about my business, thinking that ultimately Matt would come back to me.
I hadn’t actually thought we were done for good.
I hadn’t started planning for life without him.
“I know it would be awful,” Florence continued.
“But think of it this way—they sent you that invitation because they were cowards, because they wanted to hurt you. Who knows? But, if you were to go? It’s the last thing they’re expecting.
You take some control back. You’d make them feel really uncomfortable. ”
“Making them feel uncomfortable isn’t worth making myself miserable.”
“Agreed. But it’s more than making them feel uncomfortable.
It’s about putting yourself first for once.
” As I went to interrupt her, she continued.
“Just hear me out. If, in theory, this guy, Beck, could give you something that would make going to this wedding worth it, then you should do it. Agreed?”
Florence was like a dog with a bone. I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t drop this. “There isn’t anything I could want from Beck. Nothing would be worth going to that wedding for.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” she said. “He says he’s a property developer, right?”
“Yes,” I said. “He wants to buy some property that Henry Dawnay owns in Mayfair.” I grabbed the latest issue of Elle Decoration from my bedside table. I’d let Florence keep talking—she clearly needed to get this out of her system—but there was no way I was going to that wedding.
“Right. So, I’ve been looking him up. Because, what else is there to do on the bus but research strangers on your phone? I’ve been known to nab shots of people who look interesting when they get on and run them through facial recognition software.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. Knowing more about someone than they know about me is powerful. Anyway, Google Wilde Developments.”
There was no point arguing. I was just going to have to placate Florence. I pulled my laptop from the end of the bed and did as she asked.
“First, everything he said seems to be true. He’s in real estate and has made a lot of money developing boutique, high-end residential units in central London. Can you see them?”
As I brought up the sleek, image-heavy website, my heart began to flutter as if it were being brought back to life.
The projects displayed were breathtaking.
Spacious, airy, with incredible views. The finishes used were expensive—Italian marble, Murano glass, and beautiful porcelain tiles.
As a designer, I’d love to work with this kind of budget.
And I loved the unusual spaces that had been carved out of the old buildings.
Modern classic was my personal style, not that anyone would know if they came to my home, despite me being an interior designer.
Matt had been very particular with our flat.
When I was in the business, my portfolio had been much more traditional because that was what my clients had wanted.
The stuff Wilde Developments was doing was much more what I liked to work with.
“I wonder who his designer is,” I said, scrolling through the pages. “They have great taste.”
“So do you,” Florence said.
“With a budget like this, there’s a lot I could do.
” I missed transforming spaces from shabby and unloved to fresh and exciting.
I felt like a fairy godmother, making people’s lives a little better by improving their homes—providing a space they loved they could retreat to when they needed comfort or show-off when they wanted to impress friends.
The way I saw it, I was like a doctor or a therapist—I produced medicine for the soul.
“That’s exactly my point. You can ask Beck to give you that opportunity.”
“What? A check so I can redesign my flat? No way—I’m not taking money from a stranger in return for a date.”
“No!” she yelped. “He’s going to redevelop the Mayfair property, right?”
“Right.” Had I missed something?
“So, tell him you want to be the lead designer on the development.”
I snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t worked in six months. I have no portfolio. And I’ve never done anything on this scale. Or in this style.”
“Use your portfolio from your Manchester business,” Florence said.
“The clients want a very different look in Manchester—it’s not as cutting edge and the clients aren’t international. And I never did any new build stuff. You can do a lot more with a blank canvas.”
“Well it doesn’t matter anyway, because you don’t have to interview. You know you can do it. Can’t you? That would be worth going up to Scotland for.”
Florence was being ridiculous. I couldn’t just demand a job from a stranger.
He’d laugh in my face. I couldn’t even convince my boyfriend that I was good at my job.
What hope did I have that I could convince a high-end real estate developer?
“Well, of course I could do it, but I have no proof to offer him. There’s no way—” Designing the interiors of one of these buildings was stuff my dreams were made of.
All I had on my CV recently was recruitment.
Even when I had been interior designing, I’d never taken on a project like the ones Wilde Developments did.
I wouldn’t impress Beck with the interior spaces I’d done in Manchester.
“Beck said to consider what it is you want. And you keep telling me you hate your job. Sounds like a perfect solution.”
“What, resort to blackmail?”
“It’s not blackmail—it’s a business deal. He’s got something you want—you’ve got something he wants. It’s an exchange.”
“You could say the same thing about a prostitute and her client.”
“I’m not saying sleep with the guy—although I’m sure it will be tempting as all hell.
He asked you to name your price to take you to a wedding.
A job like that would be worth a week of pain, wouldn’t it?
This is a chance to get your career back, your life back.
Is a lifetime’s happiness worth a week watching your shit-for-brains ex marry a girl you thought was a friend? ”
A job for a company like Wilde Developments would last for months and build my portfolio so I could go back to doing what I loved.
“In theory. But I’m not sure I’m capable of witnessing Karen and Matt together, of watching them get married.
” The words stuck in my throat. Karen had known I’d wanted Matt to propose.
I’d talked to her about it. She’d offered her advice, told me to give him an ultimatum.
Were they together then? Had her advice been designed to break us apart rather than move us forward?
Every conversation I’d ever had with her had a shadow cast over it.
I’d thought she’d bury a body for me. But, now I knew that mine was the body she wanted to bury—so she could marry my boyfriend.
“Do you think it’s actually physically possible for me to go to that wedding? I think I’d throw up constantly or start uncontrollably screaming through the speeches or something. I don’t trust myself not to do something terrible.”
“If you go, I’ll come with you,” Florence said. “As moral support. And you never know, you might gain strength from knowing that you were using their wedding to get what you wanted. It’s an opportunity for you to take the power back. It’s the chance for closure.”
Powerlessness . . . Yes, that was a good description of what I’d felt over the last few weeks. My future had been snatched from me and I could do nothing about it.
I hated Karen. And I hated that I hated her. I didn’t want to be someone filled with bitterness and hate. I wanted to move on. I wanted that closure Florence promised.
Something to aim for would give me a focus rather than constantly ruminating over the two people I didn’t want to think about at all.
“And if you needed more icing on the cake, you get to go to the wedding with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. People will assume you’re a couple—in fact you can make him Dermot Mulroney. Get him to pretend to be your boyfriend—you’ll be winning at life.”
Florence made it sound like the deal was done.
“So, you want me to convince Beck to make me the lead designer on a multi-billion-pound property development and pretend to be my boyfriend, and at the end of the week, I’ll have closure and be over my ex bff and ex-boyfriend betraying me?
” Florence’s positivity was endearing but she was clearly drunk or crazy.
“Are you telling me you’d still refuse to go to the wedding if Genie-Beck made that deal?”
Of course, there was no way I could refuse the deal Florence was describing.
She was right, I’d been making decisions and compromises as one half of a couple for a long time.
I’d put Matt and my relationship before anything.
But Matt and I weren’t in a relationship anymore.
We weren’t just on a break. I was on my own.
And I had to start thinking about my future.
The recruitment consultancy job was going to be a temporary measure that turned permanent if I didn’t take decisive action.
Was it possible that Beck Wilde was my winning lottery ticket? My dose of medicine that would help me heal, help me get over the way Matt and Karen had betrayed me, and hand me a career-making job opportunity at the same time? “There’s no way he’d agree.”
“You won’t know if you don’t ask. What have you got to lose?”
It felt as if I’d already lost everything I’d ever had—my career, my relationship—but going to the wedding just might take my pride.
And it might just give me it back.
All I had to do was convince Beck I had the ability to take on a project like his with no track record, no proof whatsoever, then show up to the wedding of my ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend.
Should be easy, right?