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Dimitrios paused, his brother’s hesitation pulling at something inside him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Come on, Dim. You might have the rest of the world fooled with the “sweethearts reunited” bit but not me. You guys were never an item.’ Zach laughed softly. ‘Well, with the obvious exception of one night.’

Dimitrios instinctively recoiled from discussing Annabelle, even with his brother.

‘That’s irrelevant. We have a son together.’

‘And I can’t wait to meet him, but you can’t let Annie be torn apart in the media like this. She doesn’t deserve that.’

Dimitrios fought an instinct to point out that Annabelle had kept his son from him for six years. ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I have very little control of how rival media outlets decide to spin this story, though.’

‘You have control of a lot more than you realise. You just need to make it much harder for her to be criticised; take the wind out of their sails. Change the story, Dimitrios, for Annie’s sake.’

Annie woke with a start, a terrible feeling in her gut that perhaps she’d overslept. It was just like in high school, when there had been an exam or assessment and she used to wake in the mornings convinced she’d missed it. But there was no exam. Just the rest of her life waiting for her. And the anxiety she felt was like a whole ball of wool knotted in her belly. She pushed out of bed and was crossing the apartment to the small bathroom when there was a knock at the door. A glance at her watch showed the time to be almost seven.

She was about to open it when she remembered the intrusion of the press the day before, and Dimitrios’s parting warning: ‘They will be waiting for you tomorrow. I’ll send a driver, but be aware—there will be questions.’

At the door, she paused. ‘Who is it?’

‘Henderson, ma’am. I drove you home yesterday.’

Surely it was way too early for the driver to take them to school. She flicked a glance at the clock and groaned. It wasn’t too early. She had overslept. With a small yelp, she pulled the door inwards, keeping her pyjama-clad body concealed behind it. ‘We just need a few minutes, okay?’

‘Of course.’ He nodded.

‘Would you like to come in? Help yourself to some water or tea?’ She thought longingly of the last two teabags sitting in the bottom of the canister.

‘There’s coffee in the car, ma’am.’

Coffee! Her heart leaped at the promise of caffeine. She smiled. ‘Thank you. We won’t be long.’

She ran across the apartment, throwing open the door to Max’s room. And it hit her the second she saw the plastic grocery bags filled with his dearest possessions.

This was happening.

They were leaving.

Pushing away all the consequences that came with that, she moved to the bed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. ‘Time to wake up, Max. We’re late.’

‘Are we?’ he mumbled, so beautifully sleepy, her heart clutched.

‘Yep. Can you get dressed straight away?’

‘Yes, Mummy.’

She readied herself quickly, throwing on a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting black shirt, noting that it was a little looser than usual. You look like you haven’t eaten in a week. She frowned as she took a few moments to look at her reflection in the mirror. She had lost weight lately. Too much weight, and not as a result of trying. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip. She tucked the shirt in. That was even worse. She pulled it out, leaving it loose, and added a big bright necklace she’d bought at a charity shop around the corner.

Slightly better.

Hair pulled into a topknot, a piece of toast thrust into Max’s hand to eat in the car, and they were ready.

Except—how could they ever really be ready? The second they stepped a few feet from the apartment, flashes went off and the questions began again—this time, directed at Max.

‘Max, how do you feel about your dad?’

‘Are you looking forward to the wedding?’

‘Have you spent much time with him?’


Tags: Clare Connelly Billionaire Romance