Despite all this, I wanted to hold Nate until I absorbed some of his pain, and tell him he needs to let go, but as always, he pushed away. The problem is we know more about each other than anybody else ever has - the deepest, darkest parts of our hearts - and that creates a bond we can either accept or twist back into the old antagonism from behind thin walls. I'm not sure which Nate will choose.

35.

RILEY.

My life stays off-kilter but I'm gradually righting myself again. Nate is caged in a do not disturb part of my mind, and the Cole Daniels gala event on Sat.u.r.day fills up all the s.p.a.ce left in my mind.

The event, which is two short days away.

Balancing a takeaway cup of coffee on top of my iPad and files, I push open the ajar meeting room door with my backside.

Mitch.e.l.l jumps up and takes my coffee. "Careful!"

I set my things on the small table. "Thanks."

"Why not make two trips instead of scalding yourself with coffee?"

"I'll be fine. I've perfected this."

Mitch.e.l.l points at the top of my blouse. "You spilled."

I tip my chin down and look at the brown stain splashed across the white shirt. "c.r.a.p."

I wipe with my palm and Mitch.e.l.l grabs a tissue from a box on the table. "Here."

"I'm good, don't worry."

Instead, he flashes me the smile that has some of the younger girls laying bets on who'll get into his pants first. I haven't figured the guy out. Is he a flirt or just naturally charming at every opportunity? I often find American account managers more open and friendly than others. Okay, more so than me.

At what point do his politeness and long meetings about the event, with more and more time spent together, become interest?

I brush the front of my blouse as I sit. "Sorry I'm late."

"Five minutes isn't late."

"Haven't you heard? I get upset with people who are tardy."

He bites his lip. "I've heard all about you. Best make sure I behave, then."

With a small smile, I shake my head and pull out the quotes from suppliers. In return for publicity, a few have offered services free; others have offered prizes for the silent charity auction.

"I've amended the last-minute items we still need to attend to." Mitch.e.l.l leans across the table and pushes a sheet of paper towards me.

I run a finger down the list and pause on an item. "Wait. What?"

"Something wrong?"

"Win a date with Cole? n.o.body mentioned this."

"No? Cole agreed which is a huge deal. He never says yes to that kind of stunt. The movie studio is throwing money at this and have pledged a huge donation to the charity in return. They want maximum exposure from now on in. They spent big bucks on casting him."

I tap a pen on the table. "You do realise this could turn into a PR nightmare?"

"Why?"

"Really? He's your client. You must know his reputation with the fairer s.e.x."

Mitch.e.l.l laughs at my expression. "Very aware, but I can guarantee Cole will have a British celebrity status symbol on his arm." He waves a hand. "Besides the winner will probably be a forty-something he wouldn't look at twice."

I continue checking the list and mutter, "I hope you're right."

We're lining our ducks in a row, but ideas like this leave them precarious. On the Ruby Riot support tour, I arranged backstage meet and greets with the band. Usually a complaining Jax, who was working on winning over Tegan at the time, so he never caused issues with female fans. This is different. Cole Daniels is one step above my rock star clients, proud partic.i.p.ant in a s.e.x tape scandal with a co-star. I'd swear he staged it himself, the footage certainly showed his good side, if you catch my drift, which leads to a very dubious side to his character. Is there any way I can fix this compet.i.tion to ensure the winner isn't an attractive girl dazzled by his stardom?

"How about we make it winner and a friend?" I suggest. "Lessens the chance of him caught misbehaving if there're two of them."

Mitch.e.l.l's mouth twitches into a smile. "Or not."

I pull a face. "I don't want to know. But what do you think?"

"Sure thing, Riley. I can swing that. The compet.i.tion is drawn on QR Radio tonight; I'll make sure the winner's told she can bring a friend." His soft acceptance and warm look send me a glimpse of why he's on a few girls' to-do list. "You never know, it might be a guy."

I smile. "Thank you."

Mitch.e.l.l's help is a mixed blessing. He liaises with the client side of everything, effectively a middleman. Even though I'm less hands-on with clients these days, I'm excited about the opportunity to co-manage everything on the Sat.u.r.day night.

The best part of all this? The event takes up a h.e.l.l of a lot of my time and refocuses my brain from Nate. He sneaks in daily though, at night as I settle into bed when Yorkshire plays across my mind. The days I shared a bed with Nate made me realise how much I missed a man at night. Nate. The man will not leave my system; unsurprising, when I haven't had any relationship longer than a couple of weeks for years. Growing close to somebody I spent so much time with was inevitable and the dull ache in my chest won't leave. Why did I let myself fall into this hole again?

Will he be at the gala on Sat.u.r.day? He often avoids these events. If he is, Nate's att.i.tude may throw me off course if he's hurtful. Or he could've changed his mind and have decided I'm the one he wants to help fix his issues.

Oh, look. Here come those delusional thoughts again.

"Riley?" I shake my head. I've missed whatever Mitch.e.l.l told me, the consternation on his face clear. "You look tired; is everything okay?"

"You know how it is working on events this size. It's on your mind the whole time." I straighten and sip my coffee.

"Not me. Work needs leaving behind sometimes or you're swallowed up."

"Mmm. Are we almost done?"

Mitch.e.l.l rubs his mouth as he studies me, his scrutiny discomforting. "I heard about your situation."

"Situation?"

"You have a kid. Must be hard work."

I pick the papers up and tap them into a neat pile. "I've managed for the last five years." Irritation edges in, this is one situation I refuse to allow judgement about Josh. "My domestic situation will not affect my work on this event."

"Hey, I'm not criticising. Makes no difference to me, I'm just concerned the stress of telling everybody may be affecting you."

I snap my head up. "Why would you say that? I'm fine."

"I don't know; you seem distant. When I arrived, I was warned about working with you, but you're not what I expected. The girl I met was bright and happy. Recently, not so much." Mitch.e.l.l's look is soft and friendly but the tension remains in my shoulders.

Is my upset over Nate visible? "I didn't realise." I wrinkle my nose. "Yes. The Josh situation is tricky. After all this time people must think I'm weird."

"Let them think what they want." He takes the list back from me. "I didn't peg you as somebody who cared."

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have kept quiet about him all these years, would I?"

Strange how we can convince ourselves the outcome will be a bigger disaster than saying nothing at all. A few whispers, several questions from the more direct work colleagues, but no suggestion this'll affect my ability to work. In fact, I've gained respect from some whose dislike of me was clear; perhaps I've relaxed, not holding tight to my secret.

The only person who directly asks what everybody won't ask is Tegan. She's hot on wheedling out of me who Josh's father is. I have no issue with telling her, or anybody who asks, my situation may be an embarra.s.sment, but my teen naivety isn't out of the ordinary.

Not one to hold back on her thoughts, Tegan asks the hilarious question a few did behind my back. Is Nate the father? Is that why there was so much hostility between us? Did he just find out he had a kid? I pointed out I never knew the guy when I was eighteen, or have ever been to Oxford. To be honest, I was annoyed she even went there.

Nate a father figure? Yes, hilarious.

Not carrying my secret around is also a huge weight lifted. People's reactions surprised me; none was as bad as Nate's. In an odd way, despite the irreparable damage to my heart, he's set me in a new direction.

We regard each other, Mitch.e.l.l's strange-coloured eyes appraising me, and the uneasy feeling his interest isn't 100 percent professional creeps in.

"Do you have a picture of Josh?" he asks.

"In my office."

"No, on your phone. You must do."

"Why?"

"I'd like to see him."

Confused, I tap my phone screen, find a photo of Josh, then turn the phone to face Mitch.e.l.l. He picks it up for a closer look. "The little guy looks happy. You did a good job, Mum."

I'm filled with a warm pride, and Mitch.e.l.l's lack of judgement is a bright light in my stressful day. "Thank you."

"Hard work. You must've had a tough few years. Kudos to you." He hands the phone back.

Mitch.e.l.l's words and behaviour pushes away the final doubt I've made the right decision by telling people. Mitch.e.l.l's right. I should be proud of what I achieved. I am proud. I click my phone off and place it back on the table.

I misjudged Mitch.e.l.l too. He's genuine and easier going than I expected. Definitely an ally in my upcoming battle with Cole Daniels's ego.

"Let's get this organised and make it an event to remember," he says as he slaps his hands on the table.

There is no doubt in my mind that will happen.

36.

RILEY.

The gala is held in the newly refurbished Beats bar at the ultra-modern Chatters boutique hotel. With Annie from the agency and Mitch.e.l.l sharing the load, I spend the day ticking off each item of organisation. The theme of the event is black and gold, to match the logo of Cole's Gold Lily Foundation. The bar area is already black and chrome, and the company in charge of decorating creates a stunning transformation. Black and gold table settings include intricately designed metal lilies to match the array of expensive tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs adorning the wall. I check off my list, barking orders at people through the two-way mic. Caterers, DJ, waiting staff, official photographers... my list feels endless.

Each attendee receives a bag of expensive treats from the sponsors, including samples from the designer labels who've donated prizes. It's amazing how much companies will do free, when they can attach their name to a star as big as Cole. I pick up an expensive flower-shaped chocolate, unwrap the specially designed charity logo, and take a bite. Josh will love these; I've stashed a bagful for him in the staff room.

Our carefully crafted publicity ensures event tickets are gold dust and we're fielding requests up until the afternoon before the event. I cynically suspect some guests only want a.s.sociation with a charitable event for publicity, or the photo opportunity. Mitch.e.l.l confides in me that Cole's interest in creating the charity is personal, which explains his determination to push the organisation into the spotlight, but Cole doesn't elaborate.

The day of preparation ends in a headache, especially as there seemed less hours in today than a usual day. Six p.m. already? How?

I stride from the kitchens, having spoken to the catering manager and checked the menu; I also need to check in with Mitch.e.l.l on what's left to straighten out before doors open.

I halt. A badly dressed guy with long scruffy hair sits facing away from me at the bar; his tall figure the only one around. My hackles rise. Everybody pitches in; n.o.body slacks off for a drink. He looks like one of the guys who helped set up the furniture, but whoever he is can leave now. Unbelievable, the cheeky b.u.g.g.e.r already has a drink in front of him.

I stalk over and open my mouth to reprimand him when Mitch.e.l.l steps between us. "Looking good, Cole," he says with a laugh.

I blink and study the scruffy guy as he turns and drags off the long, ponytailed wig, revealing his short brown hair. Cole rubs at his face with the heel of his large palm. "Mitch.e.l.l!"

My brain catches up. Of course. Cole started the day with a visit to sick kids, dressed as his most popular character to surprise them at the local children's hospital. This news put him up in my estimation, not as big a stunt as this seems as Mitch.e.l.l told me the idea was his.

I'd pictured my first encounter with Cole dressed up, ready for the evening ahead, or dressed down on his way to the hotel suite to change. I don't expect Cole dressed as a Viking for our first meeting. Close up, this man looks exactly as he does on screen. His short dark hair is ruffled from wearing the wig, the deep green eyes accentuated by the dark make-up below. The Viking runes painted on the top of his tanned chest points to the rough s.e.xuality ensuring the mums are more than happy to take their kids to see his movie, and guarantee a sequel or two. Nothing helps make a blockbuster more than Cole Daniels with his shirt off.

He stands, towering over me. I haven't been around a man as tall and broad as this since Bryn, Tegan's brother. Cole's more aware of the effect he has though, and I fight the desire to inspect the rest of him as he returns a steady look, eyes sparkling with the awareness of the effect he has on any female in his general vicinity.

"Riley." My name rolls smoothly off his tongue, and he smiles, holding out a large hand. I take hold, surprised by how rough his skin is, and he lifts to kiss the back of my hand. One of those guys, then. "I've heard a lot about you from Mitch.e.l.l."

"Nice to finally meet you." I withdraw my hand.

"Sorry I haven't been involved. Crazy schedule on set but I'm here now." He gestures at his dark trousers and grey tunic, familiar from the family blockbuster a couple of years ago. "I might get changed though."

I return his smile; my earlier irritation swept away by the charisma blasted my way. How can I be p.i.s.sed off with a guy raising money for charity who spent the morning delighting sick kids?

"Probably a good idea," I reply.

"Everything ready to go?" Cole asks Mitch.e.l.l.