To: Fiona Stone

From: Emmy Clarke

Subject: Fiji Shoots

Fiona,

Can you please send me Ben’s schedule of all bookings while we are here in Fiji? We’d like to know what is planned for the duration of the trip.

Thank you,

Emmy Clarke

Assistant to Ben Shaw

Ha! That ought to give her something to think about.

“If you’d like me to manage your social media presence, like Gunnar used to, I’ll just need your passwords for the sites you’d like me to help with.”

“Sure. That’d be great.”

I could post behind-the-scenes pictures of his shoots. His fans would appreciate seeing snippets of those.

“Excellent.” I felt more in control and confident about my role already.

Stepping off the plane, I realized I was in desperate need of a shower. I wanted to wash my face and my limp, greasy hair and change out of the rumpled jeans and T-shirt I’d been wearing for a solid eighteen hours. After collecting our luggage Ben and I moved toward the airport exit where I spotted a uniformed driver holding a sign that read Ben Shaw. I poked him in the side with my elbow and pointed.

“Fiona must have arranged a pickup. I was planning to grab a cab.”

Oh, Fiona. How lovely. God, I was really going to have to keep my temper in check. I was here in my own right this time, and she couldn’t just send me packing. I straightened my shoulders and followed the driver and Ben.

Once outside the humidity smacked me in the face. My hair instantly increased in volume. I blinked against the sunlight and took in our surroundings—a tiny little airport surrounded by massive palm trees.

I slid into the white limousine, which was really quite ridiculous for two people, while Ben assisted the driver with placing our bags inside the trunk.

This was my first visit to the South Pacific and I was in awe of the idyllic setting, crystal-blue waters, brilliant blue and cloudless sky, tropical flowers and plants, and rolling hills in the distance. Everything was lush and green. Vibrant, and so pretty.

The driver stopped in front of a pink-and-white stucco hotel. It was charming, but somewhat understated, letting the natural beauty of the island stand out.

We headed inside and I felt out of place in my jeans and T-shirt, which would’ve been fine back home. Here I felt homely and anything but sophisticated. The lobby was little more than a large, thatched roof pitched over marble floors. It was open on all sides, allowing the ocean breeze to lift strands of hair from my neck and providing a breathtaking view of the beach beyond.

We were handed cocktails poured into real coconuts while we checked in. I sipped the icy, sweet concoction, letting the flavors of spiced rum and creamy coconut milk dance on my tongue while Ben handed over his credit card. I could get used to this life.

The approach of clicking heels across the marble floor caught my attention and I turned.

Fiona was here.

She was island perfection in a colorful pastel sundress and gold sandals. Her dress was loose fitting but her belly had grown since I’d seen her last. Her skin was lightly tanned and she was glowing.

Fuck me.

I wished I could stop comparing myself to this woman but knowing she’d had a five-year affair with my boyfriend made that a teensy bit hard to do.

“Love! You made it!” She had eyes only for Ben and threw herself into his arms.

“Fiona.” Ben greeted her coolly and removed her claws from around his waist.

Her eyes landed on mine. “Oh. Emerson. I didn’t expect to see you.”

Ben’s arm came around my waist, drawing me closer. “Emmy’s staying with me, and I’d appreciate it if you’d cooperate with her.”

Fiona’s answering smile was as fake as they came, her lips curving up to reveal too-white teeth. “Of course, my love. I’ll play nice.” One hand moved to rest against her belly.

“Hi, Fiona.” I found my voice, however soft and shaky. “I emailed you about obtaining Ben’s schedule while we’re here.”

“I’ll send it to him tonight.”

“Send it to Emmy,” Ben interrupted.

“Of course,” she said, looking slightly wounded. “We have a pre-production dinner tonight with the photographer,” she added.

“Emmy’s working for me now so it’ll be good for her to hear whatever’s discussed tonight.”

“She’s working for you?” Fiona’s brow crinkled, the frown lines around her mouth puckering like she’d tasted something sour.

“Yes. She’s my assistant.” Ben’s fingers dug into my hip as his grasp on me tightened.

“How . . . cute.” The word “cute” dripped with sarcasm.

Bitch.

“We’re just getting checked in, if you’ll excuse us,” Ben said.

“I booked your room next to mine, like we usually do. I’ll see you soon,” Fiona said before sauntering away.

Ben and I were both silent as a bellhop led us to our room. I hoped it wouldn’t continue to feel this tense the entire time we were here. And if there was an adjoining door to Fiona’s room, I was going to lose it.

The hotel was quite elegant, so there were no adjoining doors. I quickly became distracted by and fascinated with our room, which was actually a large suite. I spent a solid twenty minutes exploring while sipping my yummy coconut and rum drink. A plush living room decorated in island furniture led to the master bedroom with a king-sized bed draped in a white, gauzy canopy and French doors that gave way to a private terrace and view of the ocean.