But my gut won’t let it go.
I glance at my friends, who are deep in conversation, passionately debating the next book forBooks That Bang,the romance book club Sophie set up. It’s been amazing to finally find real people who love romance and smutty books as much as I do. Life has been too busy to find love myself, but books? Books are simpler. No mess, no complications, just guaranteed happily-ever-afters.
I could tell them.
I could tell them there’s a possibility Ben Ashcroft isn’t just some random CEO, that he might betheBen. The boy I never thought I’d see again.
But the words stick in my throat.
Flowers spill across the worktable in the back room. Roses, baby’s breath, eucalyptus branches, surrounding me like a floral war zone.
The laptop sits next to my notepad, a mess of notes andprinted articles scattered around it.
Olivia scans the paperwork, a pen tapping rhythmically against the table, her eyes narrowing at the chaos around us.
“How can you work like this?” she says, gesturing to the sea of stems, petals, and papers. “There’s no order. No system. I’m getting hives just looking at it.”
I laugh softly. “Welcome to my brain.”
“Seriously, Lila. You’ve got spreadsheets next to roses, and there’s eucalyptus on top of your meeting notes.” She shakes her head, muttering to herself. “This is chaos. I can’t work in chaos.”
“This is creative chaos,” I reply with a grin. “It’s where the magic happens.”
Olivia raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Magic or not, it’s a miracle you haven’t accidentally stapled a flower to your evidence.” She slides a stack of papers away from a stray sprig of baby’s breath, neatly aligning them.
“See? You’re already organising it for me,” I tease.
“Someone has to,” she says with a sigh. “You’re one misstep away from building a bouquet out of legal documents.”
I laugh again, the tension easing just a little. Olivia’s control-freak tendencies can be maddening, but right now, it’s exactly what I need. Olivia scans the paperwork again, her expression softening.
“You’re ready,” she says, scribbling something in the margin of my notes. “Facts are solid. Structure’s good. You’ve got this, Lila.”
I nod, but my stomach still twists. “Thanks. You’d tell me if it wasn’t, right?”
“I would.” Olivia grins. “This is corporate strategy 101. Trust me, you’re ready to make your case.”
“But this isn’t some company report,” I mutter, grabbing a sheet of paper. “This is our home, my mum’s business. There’s no Plan B if this goes wrong.”
Olivia places a steadying hand on my arm. “That’s why you’ll nail this. Just stick to your facts and control the conversation. Don’t let him push you off balance.”
I take a breath, exhale slowly, and give her a small nod.
“This meeting feels like the calm before the storm,” I mutter.
“Then bring the storm,” Sophie says. “Hit him with facts and charm. You’re good at that.”
“If that fails, seduce him,” Willow jokes.
“Not. Helping,” I deadpan.
I stare at my closet, hands on my hips, chewing on my bottom lip.
Professional but approachable. Not too casual. Not too formal.
Why does nothing feel right?
I grab a navy blouse and hold it up, frowning. Too stiff. Too buttoned-up. The green wrap dress? Too much like I’m trying to make an impression.
