Chapter 3: Mr F.

“Hey my love,” Paige opened the door, holding a tray of chicken soup.

Marie knew what it was because she could smell it. She sat upright, clutching her mother's gown.

“It's hot,” Paige said, setting the tray on the bedside table. “You good?”

“Yes,” Marie responded with a small nod, but she was far from good.

It had been ten weeks, ten weeks of being a single woman, ten weeks of returning to her parents' house, yet she still didn't have the strength to face life.

Nothing felt right.

“I have something to tell you,” Paige said, perching on the bed.

Her brow creased. “What?”

“Eat first,” Paige smiled.

Marie's stomach dropped. “Paige… just tell me.”

“It's nothing serious, I promise.”

She eyed her elder sister suspiciously, before picking up the tray. The smell alone made her stomach tighten with hunger.

When she was done, she faced Paige.

“So?”

Paige hesitated briefly, then sighed. “I think… it’s time you went back to work.”

Marie immediately shook her head. “Absolutely not. I’m not ready.”

The world knew she was divorced, they knew it was Tiffany and Ronan now. It was all over the news.

She wasn't ready to be Marie Milton again. For two years, she had been Mrs. Hills. That life didn’t just disappear because papers were signed.

“I can't, Paige.” She rose to her feet. “Mum and Dad don't have a problem with…” she trailed off, her eyes widened. “They want me out?”

Paige shot to her feet. “Absolutely not. Nobody wants you out, we are just worried,” she said softly, stepping closer. “You used to be vibrant… before that bastard stole that from you.”

Marie’s chest ached. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Paige squeezed her hand. “It's a lot, first the divorce… to Grandma Barb. You need a distraction.”

Pain twisted in Marie’s chest as the memory hit.

Glinda had sent her family away from Barb’s funeral. It had been messy and painful.

Marie couldn't even get to say goodbye properly and worst of all, Tiffany had been there, crying like she knew Barb personally.

“I made a call,” Paige continued.

Marie turned to her. “To who?”

“A friend of a friend,” Paige said proudly returning to the bed. “He's young, rich and foreign, meaning—”

“He doesn't know my story,” she finished for her.

Paige nodded. “Exactly. He’s seen your work, though, he wants you to style him.”

For the first time since the whole disaster, something lifted inside her heart.

She was Marie Milton, the biggest fashion stylist in the country, she had owned her clothing line, she had been famous before Ronan happened.

“He's flying in tonight,” Paige added.

Marie’s eyes widened. “Tonight? Paige, I'm not prepared—”

Paige chuckled lightly. “That's why I didn't say. If I give you time, you won't show up, I know you.”

Marie hesitated then nodded. “What time?”

“Seven. He'll text you the address to meet.”

Excitement coursed through Marie. Maybe Paige was right, this was what she needed.

The rest of the hours was spent dusting off her portfolio, revisiting her designs. Even though she was glad this client was foreign, she was still a little terrified.

By five, she finished up and dressed in one of her simple gowns. She pulled her red hair into a ponytail and added a small purse.

As she made her way downstairs, her phone rang. It was an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Mrs Hil—Miss Milton, hello.”

Her stomach immediately dropped at the mistake. “Who's this?”

“This is Sam, Barbara Hills’s Lawyer. We need—”

Her face burned from humiliation as memories of Barb’s funeral zapped through her.

“Don't call me,” she snapped, ending the call.

It was Ronan, she could almost feel him mocking her.

“Not today,” she whispered, tucking her phone away.

Today, she was restarting her life and nothing would stop that.

Downstairs, her family turned when she entered.

Her mother’s eyes softened instantly. “Oh, my baby,” Jessica said, pulling her into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

She blushed. “It's Paige, really. I'm… just representing.”

“Oh,” Paige gasped, circling her. “We need another outfit for representing.”

Marie frowned. “What's wrong with this?”

“It’s safe. And you are not safe, you’re extraordinary. Come.”

Before Marie could protest, Paige dragged her upstairs. Forty-five minutes later, she was dressed in a gorgeous black gown that exposed her shoulders appropriately. Her red hair was styled and she had subtle makeup.

“What do you think?” Paige asked.

Marie swallowed, looking at her reflection. She looked like herself before Ronan. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, now move your ass.”

She laughed as she grabbed her things and left. Her client, Mr F, texted her when she got into the cab.

That was how she received the text; From Mr F.

He had included a location, The Fox Night, and said he would be wearing a black suit.

So when Marie found Fox Night, she was a little disappointed it was a nightclub but she went in anyway.

It was alive with music pulsing through the air and people dancing and drinking.

Her eyes scanned the room nervously until she found him.

He was the only one wearing a suit, the only one surrounded by guards and he was staring at her.

“Showtime,” she muttered, stepping forward. “Hello sir.”

She tried to enter the space but a guard blocked her path.

“I have a meeting with him,” she said, lifting her portfolio.

“Let her in,” Mr F said calmly.

She gave him a professional smile. “It's so lovely to meet you, Mr F.”

“Same here,” he replied, dropping his glass down.

She set her bag beside her and laid out her portfolio. “These are some of the works.”

His brow creased with surprise. “Okay?”

“Okay?” Her heart skipped. “You don't like it?”

“I mean the drawings are good,” he said with a shrug.

Her heart shattered with the look on his face. He didn't like it at all.

Shame burned under her skin as she gathered her belongings and stood.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asked, genuinely surprised. “Have a drink with me.”

Disgust surged inside her. “I don't mingle with my clients.”

He leaned forward. “And if I wasn't your client, would you drink with me?”

For the first time that night she studied him.

He had brown hair with gorgeous hazel eyes, his Adam's apple stood in his throat in a sexy way. He was a beautiful man and she could tell he knew that.

“Maybe,” she admitted.

A small smile spread across his lips and he tapped the seat.

She hesitated then sat.

What was the worst that could happen?

She hadn't had alcohol in a long time but she said nothing as she took the drink.

A few sips and she felt her body begin to relax. Soon, the night became blurry.

One minute she was laughing and talking with Mr F, the next minute they were kissing in a hotel room.

The next morning, Marie woke up with a banging head. She groaned softly, covering herself as she glanced at the man by her side.

Her breath hitched.

She reached for her phone to check the time and then saw several missed calls and text messages.

She read one text message.

‘Hey Marie, sorry I couldn't come. Can we reschedule? From Mr F.’

She jumped out of the bed, shock rippling through her as she stared at the man beside her.

If this wasn't her client, who the hell was he?