Chapter 10
Ben
I know she’s coming before she even reaches the door. Lisa at reception calls me, her tone clipped but with a trace of intrigue. “Mr Ashcroft, there’s a guest on her way up to see you. She seems… determined.”
Lisa has been eyeing me since I checked in. Too eager, too interested. The sharp, furious knock comes next.
I smile, rolling my shoulders back, but my pulse is already kicking up. I knew she’d come.
But I didn’t expect this heat curling under my skin, this damn anticipation thrumming through my veins.
Another knock, harder this time.
I exhale sharply, then pull open the door and there she is.
Flushed, breathing hard, dark eyes burning as she glares up at me.
Her hair is wild from the wind, loose strands framing her face, untamed and just as fierce as she is.
She shoves past me before I can say a word.
The scent of her—jasmine, fresh-cut stems, and the crisp bite of spring rain flooding my senses.
A crumpled piece of paper smacks against my chest.
I barely catch it before it hits the floor.
“What the hell is this?” she demands, spinning on her heel, arms crossed like she’s holding herself together through sheer force of will.
I glance down at the letter I sent her yesterday.
I’d expected her to storm in the same day, not leave me stewing overnight.
Turns out, she made me wait and I hate waiting.
I lean back against the table, folding my arms, watching her.
“It’s called a buyout offer, sweetheart.
Most people read them before storming through hotel suites. ”
Her nostrils flare. “That’s not an offer. It’s an insult.”
I bite back a smirk. Because she’s right. It was low, deliberately so. I knew she’d never take it. That was never the point.
The point was to get her here.
Now she’s right where I want her.
She throws her hands up. “You actually think you can waltz back in, throw some money at me, and we just roll over and let you take everything my mother and I have worked for?”
I tilt my head, watching the fire in her eyes, the flush on her cheeks. She’s fucking breathtaking when she’s angry. “Yes.”
Her mouth parts like I just slapped her.
Then she lets out a sharp, humourless laugh.
“Right,” she says, shaking her head. “Of course. Because Ben Ashcroft doesn’t just buy things. He breaks them first.”
That lands.
A muscle ticks in my jaw. I push off the table, closing the space between us. She doesn’t back away. I drop my voice. “You think I want to break you?”
Her voice is sharp, but beneath it, there’s something else. Something unsteady. She lifts her chin, dark eyes blazing. “Isn’t that the plan? Wear us down? Make me beg?”
I exhale sharply, a dark hunger curling low in my gut. If she’s going to beg, it’ll be for something much filthier.
“No?” She tilts her head. Taunting. Daring. “What do you want, then?”
I scramble for logic, for something that makes sense—the cafe. The damn building. Money.
Her.
But I don’t say that. I can’t.
Instead, I hold her gaze, letting the silence stretch. Her eyes search mine, dark and stormy, something unreadable flickering beneath the anger. Then she lets out a quiet, bitter laugh.
“Why now, Ben?” Her voice is steady, but there’s something raw beneath it. “Why Nottingham, of all places?”
I keep my expression blank, but my jaw tightens.
She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “We both know why you’re back.”
Something in the way she says it makes my pulse kick up.
We both know.
Do we?
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because for the first time in years, I don’t have the right words.
She steps back, putting space between us, but her eyes never leave mine. “You can pretend this is about business. But we both know that’s bullshit.”
A muscle ticks in my jaw. “Careful, Lila.”
Her eyes flash. “You don’t need to hurt other people in the process.”
I frown, my head tilting slightly. “What the hell does that mean?”
She doesn’t let me interrupt.
“You’re not just punishing me, you’re threatening the livelihoods of everyone in that street.
You’re trying to force us out, and for what?
A bigger bottom line?” Her voice cracks slightly.
“This is people’s lives. Our community.” She exhales, quieter now.
“You’ve already made it, Ben. Congratulations, you’ve done well for yourself.
” Her eyes linger on mine, softer but still firm. “But you don’t need to prove it here.”
Her words hit harder than I expect, slipping under the armour I didn’t realise I was still wearing.
I grit out, “That’s not it.”
Her brows lift sharply. “Then what is it, Ben?” Her voice rises, brittle with frustration. “Because from where I’m standing, all I see is a man throwing his weight around just to prove he still can.”
“I’m not—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“You don’t get to bulldoze your way back into my life and pretend this is about business. You don’t get to play puppeteer while the rest of us struggle to stay afloat.”
“I’m not trying to control you,” I snap, jaw clenched.
“Then what are you trying to do?” she fires back, eyes blazing now. “Punish me? Test me? Remind me that you’re the one with all the power now?”
We’re toe to toe, the air between us crackling with heat, with resentment, with something so raw it makes my skin prickle. Her voice lowers, trembling with something deeper. “You left, Ben. You walked away. So why are you here trying to destroy the one thing I have left?”
She shoves at my chest, a sharp, frustrated motion. “This is all just a game isn’t it?”
Just like that, we’re too close. I catch her wrist before she can pull away.
“No!” she snaps, trying to yank free. “No—you don’t get to come back and do this. You don’t get to tear everything apart and then act like—”
But I don’t let her finish.
Something in me snaps.
I grab her, pulling her in, crushing my mouth to hers before she can get another word out.
It’s not gentle. It’s raw and reckless and years too late.
She gasps, fists slamming into my chest, but she doesn’t push me away. Not really. Her hands curl in my shirt instead, like she’s fighting herself more than me. Like she’s just as furious, just as lost in this as I am.
My arm wraps around her waist, yanking her closer. I kiss her harder, deeper, like I’m trying to burn every second of distance between us.
She tastes like everything I used to want.
Everything I still do and when she kisses me back—wild, unfiltered, nails digging into my skin.
I know I’ve already lost whatever control I was clinging to.
I slide my hand into her hair, tilting her head to take her deeper, drinking in every sound she makes, every trembling breath, every stifled moan, every trace of the girl I used to know and the woman she’s become.
I can’t stop.
I don’t want to.
I press her back against the door, swallowing every sharp breath, every ragged gasp.
This. This is what I wanted.
Not the cafe. Not the fucking buyout. Her.
She pulls back suddenly, panting, her pupils blown wide and then?
She shoves me. Hard.
I stumble back half a step, my own chest heaving.
She takes a step back, chest rising and falling too fast, fingers twitching at her sides like she wants to reach for something, steady herself, maybe.
But there’s nothing to hold on to. Nothing except the one thing she doesn’t trust. She drags the back of her hand over her mouth, like she can wipe away the taste of me.
Like she needs to and that’s when I see it.
She’s not just furious at me.
She’s furious at herself.
Because she wanted it too.
“What the hell was that?” she breathes, her voice shaking.
I take a slow step forward, hands twitching at my sides, my body still burning with the feel of her. She watches me warily, dark eyes flashing, her breath uneven.
Then she lifts a shaking hand, palm flat like a warning. “You don’t get to do that, Ben.”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t want it.”
Her eyes flash. “I hate you.”
I let out a low, breathless laugh. “Liar.”
Her hand balls into a fist. “You are the worst mistake I ever made.”
That? That fucking stings.
I open my mouth to fire back, but she’s already yanking open the door.
“I mean it,” she says, voice hoarse. “Don’t come near me again.”
The door slams. The sound echoes through the suite, rattling through my chest.
I stand there, breathing hard, fingers curled into fists.
The taste of her is still on my lips. The heat of her body still lingers against mine, seared into my skin like a brand I can’t scrub off.
I knew I shouldn’t have done it, I knew the second my mouth crashed against hers that I was making a mistake.
But I couldn’t stop.
I don’t stop when it comes to Lila. That’s the problem. That’s always been the problem.
Now she’s gone, her final words slamming into my chest.
Don’t come near me again.
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply, and push away from the door. The room feels too big, too empty. I stalk toward the minibar, yanking open the cabinet and grabbing the first bottle I see. Vodka.
Perfect.
I pour a measure, no ice, no thought, I knock it back in one go. The burn barely registers. I pour another.
Fine. Screw it.
If this is what she wants—distance, silence, goodbye, then so be it.
I could have anyone. Hell, I could walk downstairs right now and find someone willing to warm my bed before the night’s out. No names. No complications. Just skin and distraction.
I don’t need her.
I don’t—
The lie crumbles halfway through the second swallow.
Because even as I try to picture it, anyone else, her face cuts through. Her voice, sharp and bright. The fire in her eyes. The way her hands trembled against my chest when I kissed her, not just from anger, but from want.
Suddenly it’s laughable. This pretence. This idea that someone else could ever come close.
Because it’s always been her.
I fucked up.
I’d spent years imagining what it would be like to see her again. What I’d say. How I’d play it. Cool, controlled, untouchable because that’s who I am now. The version of me that doesn’t break, doesn’t chase, doesn’t lose.
But then she walked in, eyes blazing, tearing into me like no one else ever has, and it all unravelled.
I’d spent years trying to bury her and one kiss was all it took to prove that I never really had. I pace toward the window, my pulse still thrumming like I just stepped out of a fight. Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it?
A fight and I kissed her in the middle of it.
No finesse, no calculated moves, just a pure, reckless need.
Fucking idiot.
I rake a hand through my hair, jaw tight.
I should’ve handled it differently. The low ball offer was a mistake—I see that now.
I’d justified it to myself, convinced it was the only way to get her in a room alone.
Because if I’d gone in too high, she’d have been suspicious.
She’d have known I was playing a different game.
But instead of reeling her in, I pushed her away. Hard and now she hates me even more than she already did.
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. I should let it go. Walk away, cut my losses.
But I don’t want to let it go.
She kissed me back.
For a second—just a second, she melted into me, her fingers gripping my shirt like she needed me just as badly as I needed her.
I close my eyes, replaying it. The way she tasted. The way she gasped into my mouth. The way her breath hitched just before she shoved me away.
I know that sound.
It wasn’t just anger. It was fear.
Not of me.
Of herself.
That changes everything. Lila might hate me right now. But hate is just love wearing sharper teeth.
I can work with that. I have to.