The way she spoke to me, sharp, confident, like she had nothing to lose. It tells me she has no idea who she was talking to.
Not yet.
I grimace, turning away from the window, shoving down the unease creeping through my chest. The thought of stepping back into Nottingham leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I never planned to set foot there again.
But this is business.
I roll my shoulders, exhaling slowly, grounding myself in logic. Lila Lau is gone. The name that once sat on my tongue so easily, the girl I once—
I cut off the thought before it goes too far.
Ng. A different name. A married name.
Of course she’s married. Women like her don’t stay single forever.
I open my laptop again, my jaw tightening as my gaze lingers on the photo. Her smile is softer than I remember, her posture still carrying that effortless confidence. She’s settled. Happy. Probably has a husband, maybe even kids.
Good. That’s good. It means whatever happened between us, whatever she thought we were. It’s long buried.
I force my expression neutral. This changes nothing.
Clean cut. Go in, get what I need, and get out. Just like I’ve always done.
No attachments. No lingering. No second-guessing.
It’s worked for years.
It’ll work now.
3
Lila
I tap my fingers on the counter, my laptop glowing in front of me. The search bar on the screen mocks me with its uselessness.
Ben Ashcroft.Nothing. No LinkedIn. No social media. Not even an outdated company profile.
How is it possible for someone to be this off the grid?
I try again, typing his name with the company name added, hoping it’ll spit out more than the generic company website. It doesn’t.
“Who doesn’t exist online these days?” I mutter, slamming the laptop shut.
“You’ll have to wing it,” Sophie says, glancing up from her coffee. She’s perched on a stool at the cafe counter, watching me with mild amusement. “Mysterious billionaire types are always trouble. You know that.”
“This isn’t a book,” I remind her.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Olivia adds, grinning. “You’ve got all the elements: the brooding businessman, the small-town girl trying to take him down, a dramatic showdown coming up. Classic enemies-to-lovers vibes.”
I roll my eyes, but my stomach twists just thinking about it. “This isn’t enemies-to-lovers. This is business. Ben Ashcroft is probably some sixty-year-old fat, balding guy who barely knows how to use email.”
Sophie bursts out laughing. “That’s the spirit!”
“Uh-huh,” Olivia says, raising an eyebrow. “And you’ve spent the last hour trying to figure out everything about him because…?”
“Because I want to be prepared,” I snap, turning back to the engagement flowers. “I’m not walking into that meeting blind.”
I snip another stem, trying to focus on the bouquet, but my thoughts keep circling back to that name. I shouldn’t care who he is, or if there’s even the slightest chance it could behim.
