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Stammering her thanks, she entered, taking the carpeted stairs slowly, as if doing so would order the thoughts flapping inside her skull like headless chickens. She’d already spent so much of the estate’s money on the festival; securing acts, putting down deposits, building a website. There was no money left if they didn’t have the events company footing the rest of the bill.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Pausing on the first landing, sweat beading on her brow, she undid her coat to let in some air. She’d only met the previous owners, Colin and Deborah, once before and they’d seemed straight down the line. Surely they were staying on for a transition period?
Just speak to them. Everything will be fine. They signed a contract. Remember?
Jogging up the rest of the stairs, she stopped and stared at a sign stuck to a door. It had the words ‘Big Dick Energy Entertainment’ printed on it, with a logo consisting of an eggplant emoji being struck by a bolt of lightning.
This was BDE Entertainment?
Heart hammering, she knocked.
The door opened inwards and a man in his twenties appeared, dressed in a plaid shirt and navy jeans. His eyes gleamed as he gazed at her, as if she was Santa arriving with presents. Or a strippergram. She re-tied her coat.
‘Lady—’ he began.
‘I told you to take that fucking sign down,’ a man yelled from inside the office. ‘Twice.’
Estelle couldn’t see who was shouting, but the voice was deep, powerful and angry. She took a step back.
The young man rolled his eyes. ‘Bear with,’ he said to her under his breath. ‘Someone hasn’t had enough coffee yet.’ He held out his hand and she shook it. ‘I’m Max, we met briefly a couple of months ago.’
‘Who is it?’ the voice from inside snapped.
Max winked at her and closed the door slightly. ‘Lady Foxbrooke,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Your ten o’clock.’
Silence.
The anxiety that had been pricking at Estelle’s stomach now turned stabby. She had no idea what was going on, and Max seemed to be taking perverse delight in riling whoever he was talking to.
‘I told you to cancel her,’ the man hissed, still loud enough for Estelle to make out every word.
‘No, you didn’t,’ Max replied calmly.
‘Yes, I did. We’re not doing this now. Apologise and tell her we’ll re-arrange.’
Max turned back to her. ‘Lady Foxbrooke—’
‘Estelle Foxbrooke, and no.’
‘No?’
‘We’re not re-arranging anything.’
Max smirked. ‘Of course.’ Opening the door, he stepped back, bowing slightly as he extended his arm into the office. ‘Lady—Estelle Foxbrooke. Welcome to Big Dick Enter—Energy Entertainment.’
Summoning all her courage, Estelle marched into the room, then stopped dead.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
Perched on the edge of a desk, surrounded by boxes, was James Hunter-Savage.
Memories from ten days ago at the Winter Ball winded her. She was once again tumbling through the air towards certain death. Only this time, a duplicitous stranger with a silvery tongue wouldn’t be there to catch her. Her angel was in clear sight, his mask gone, revealing exactly who he really was: Lucifer.
‘You…’ she choked out.
Even though James’s posture was relaxed, she recognised a tightness around his eyes and jaw.
He opened his palms. ‘Me.’
