In Millie’s judgment, whoever came up with the recipe for humble pie was a terrible cook. It tasted like sawdust.

Justin was right.

She hated that he was right.

The fact remained… the bastard was right.

What irritated her was that she couldn’t even be angry with him for being so excruciatingly on the money. It was exactly what she’d been so wary of – his sharp mind and ability to take agonising chunks of ego out with it – but he was so nice in the process. How did anybody manage that? How could you be so cutting and yet complimentary all at once?

He’d been at great pains to apologise. The texts and missed calls were non-stop. She felt bad for not answering but she wasn’t intentionally avoiding him. She was rushed off her feet. First there was the travel to LA and then there was an endless parade of meetings. Every time she picked up her phone to reply she was interrupted by an incoming call.

“Emilia, over here!”

“How you liking the new look?”

“What made you do it?”

“Over here!”

The phone calls originated from the same source as the renewed paparazzi attention – she was the hot topic in the media at the moment. She was only walking down the street to drop her borrowed gems back to the store and it was a circus. Her faithful shadows were right behind her, snapping away. Thankfully a pair of oversized glasses was enough to hide her face.

She’d brought it all on herself by capitulating to Lizzie before she left. Even after what Justin said about letting her sister dictate, she felt she had a point. She’d wanted to cut her hair for months. Her final decision was ‘bugger the contract.’ It was an angular bob, still longish in front but short and choppy in the back. As it turned out her sister did have prior experience – the enterprising little madam cut and styled everybody’s hair in the school dormitories and charged them for the privilege. Lizzie was lucky she was good; if it went wrong and somebody complained it probably would’ve got her suspended.

It almost got Millie suspended, figuratively speaking. The media mess and the behind the scenes flapping of her team was time consuming but L’Oreal calmed down after Felicity’s prediction came true. The magazines seemed to like it, so the bigwigs decided it was good publicity. They stopped blowing up her agent’s phone so he stopped blowing up hers.

Instead her phone was blowing up about her latest investment pitch… to Felicity’s father. Felicity wasn’t very impressed but that was Millie’s fault. She should have pre-warned her. She was in such a fever to follow through and get it going (Justin was to blame for lighting the fire under her) she didn’t stop to realise he’d probably quiz his daughter. So his daughter got blindsided with twenty questions.

If that happened before they made up she’d have been plotting her demise. Thankfully in their newly reformed friendship Felicity appreciated the method in her madness. Her dad’s business had nothing to do with cosmetics, which was a downside, but he’d been known to act as an angel investor before. Crucially it’d be a cold day in hell before any Adair-Hamilton company managed to acquire him. Once Felicity got the rant out of her system she was supportive.

“Emilia!”

It was a blessed relief to get inside. She was out of the literal and metaphorical heat. A wave of air conditioning hit her face and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hi Ms Adair-Hamilton.”

The speaker was a neatly dressed lady with dark skin and a pleasant smile. Immediately she felt more at ease; she’d dealt with her before.

“Hi. It’s Patricia, yes?”

“That’s me.” That was another nice smile. “Are you bringing back or picking up?”

“Bringing back,” Millie said as she swung her over heavy shoulder bag onto the glass countertop. She needed to stop carrying her life around.

Digging inside, she picked up a black box which contained the sapphire cocktail ring she’d worn to the ball. It looked more expensive than it was – the really special stuff came with its own bodyguards and was yanked back off of her almost before she’d unclasped it. Nobody would trust her to take or bring anything back herself unless it was on the lower end of the price scale. She preferred that. Wearing the expensive pieces was less fun than you thought it would be. It was sheer nerves; one lost earring could be tens of thousands. It was supposed to be a perk of the job but she found it more stressful than anything.

“Okay, let me just call this up for you…” Accepting the box back, Patricia opened it up and pulled out the insert to check a serial number. Tapping it into her computer, she peered at the screen. “So it was only the ring this time, that’s great. Any problems, any knocks or wear and tear you noticed after you wore it?”

“No, that’s… oh, excuse me, I really have to take this.”

“No problem.”

While Patricia busied herself inspecting the ring, Millie dug in her bag for her ringing phone. She knew who it would be even without looking. He’d said he’d call around lunchtime. The boutique was too small to get out of earshot so she lowered her voice.

“Hello Mr Jameson.”

“People who’ve known me since they were tiny are not allowed to call me that.”

“Sorry, Robert.”

“That’s better. How you doing, kid?”

“Great, thank you. You?”

He sounded jovial and friendly. That was a good sign, right? She couldn’t tell. Trying to read the tone was doubly complicated by having a personal history with him.

“Can’t complain. Before I get started, Cath will kill me if I don’t ask if Felicity mentioned the Hamptons to you. She’s chomping at the bit to get you girls along; she’s desperate to see you both.”

“She did, yeah,” she said. She was too nervous to smile, but the corners of her mouth pricked up. Catherine was Felicity’s mother and she hadn’t seen her in years. “Lizzie is definitely in; I’m just waiting on my agent to confirm I’m not obliged elsewhere.”

“Perfect, let my girl know and she’ll fix everything with her mom. Anyway, I’m sure you know that’s not why I called and I’m killing you in suspense.”

“Now you mention it.” The light laugh disguised her discomfort.

“So first off, I want to repeat that I was really impressed with you and Beth. Like I said to you after, the plan needs some polish but it was pretty solid for first timers.”

“Thank you.” Inside her stomach was sinking. This sounded like he was easing in.

“That said… as much as I’d love to help you, and I’d particularly love to help you stick it to your old man, it’s not really my area. With the plans and other investments I’ve got in the works it doesn’t fit. I think you got the right idea but I’m the wrong investor so I’m going to have to say no. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“No, I completely understand.” Millie forced brightness into her voice. “You were doing me a huge favour even entertaining the idea, especially when it had been so long since we’d last spoken.”

“I’ve got other calls to make now, but when I’ve got some more time I’m more than happy to give you a call back and help you smooth out the edges.”

“Thank you Robert. That would be great.”

“Great, I’ll have my secretary set something up with you when I got some calendar space. But don’t be disheartened by this, kid, you got something there.”

“I won’t. Thank you, again, I really appreciate your help. And I’ll let Liss know about August.”

“Fantastic. Great to speak to you again and hopefully we’ll see you and Lizzie soon.”

“Bye.”

Her thumb hit the disconnect button and finally she allowed her face to fall. It wasn’t a total loss – his input would be invaluable and it was good to reconnect with Felicity’s family. Her dad was as good-humoured and accommodating as she remembered (though with plenty of grey peppered in his hair and more of a paunch). Still, she couldn’t help feeling like her options were swiftly draining away. Even if he helped her get a great pitch together who else was there to take it to?

Then she remembered herself. She pasted a more amiable expression back on before turning back to Patricia.

“So sorry about that. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Just your signature on the sign in papers.”

Millie accepted the proffered pen and scribbled on the form. Picking it up, Patricia tore a carbon copy from the back and handed it to her.

“And this one’s yours. Anything else I can help you with today?”

“No thanks. Thank you so much for your help.”

“No problem, have a great day.”

“And you.”

Millie pulled her sunglasses back over her eyes and braced herself. Miraculously when she got outside the horde seemed to have disappeared. They must have got a better tip and decided they had enough pictures of her already. At least that gave her a bit of breathing room to mope in. Lord, she needed some more fun in her life. It seemed to be nothing but stress and headaches at the moment.

With that thought an idea popped into her head. For a moment she hesitated, but it didn’t take long to make the decision and dig her phone back out. Scrolling through her contacts she hit the name before she could change her mind.

“Hi, this is Justin. I can’t take your call right now so leave me a message.”

“Hi, it’s Millie. Guess what, I didn’t actually drop off the face of the Earth.” Hopefully it wasn’t too obvious that her joke was a masquerade. “Sorry I haven’t replied to your messages but things are ridiculous at the moment. I’m looking for a distraction so if you’re around do you fancy a drink and we can catch up? Give me a ring and let me know, I’ll speak to you later. Bye.”