Thirty days of discoveryâ¦
With her self-esteem at an all-time low following a disastrous relationship Jules just needs a place to hide away, so when her childhood Theo offers her a place to stay she jumps at the chance!
But the handsome, suave and sophisticated man who greets her is unrecognisable as the teenaged nerd she knew ten years ago. Sheâs out of her depth in Theoâs new world, especially when he reveals the nature of the business that has made him a very wealthy manâ¦
Theo owns and runs an exclusive club, a very private members club, catering to clients seeking something extra to spice up their private lives. But Julesâs shock and embarrassment turns to fascination and excitement when Theo gifts her a complimentary thirty day membershipâ¦
Copyright
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
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London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2015
Copyright © Jane OâReilly 2015
Jane OâReilly asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9781474030748
Version date: 2018-07-23
Chapter One
This canât be the right place. I pull out my phone, check the address for the third time, but it seems that it is, no matter how little sense it makes. Itâs half past two in the afternoon and Iâm standing in a narrow street in Chelsea, looking at a closed door at the rear of a large, red brick building. The door itself is painted glossy black with an ornate brass handle. Thereâs a doorbell mounted on the wall at my eye level. Above the door is a security camera.
I wonder if itâs working, and drop my gaze away from it.
When Theo gave me his address, I was expecting a flat. Maybe even a house. But this is neither. In fact, Iâm not quite sure what it is. Possibly some sort of private members club, although Iâve no idea what kind. It does seem veryâ¦Theo, however, and thatâs what has me reaching for the small brass bell mounted at the side of the door. I hesitate a moment longer, and then I swallow my fear and press the damn thing. If it rings, I canât hear it.
No one is coming, I tell myself, tightening my grip on the handle of my pull-along case. I made a mistake. Itâs fine. Iâll just go back to the train station and go home. Iâll ring Theo later, make some excuse. It was a stupid idea anyway, taking a sabbatical from work just because I broke up with my boyfriend. I should be in the office now, not here, in the middle of London with a pull-along suitcase and a headache.
I turn away, trying to pretend Iâm not disappointed, that Iâm not about to cry. Iâve been doing that a lot recently. Crying, that is. Iâve turned into a human fountain.
I lift my foot to take the first step, and the door opens.
âJules? Jules, is that you?â
I know that voice. Iâd know it anywhere. It hasnât changed. He still sounds like he smokes twenty a day, even though I know he hates cigarettes.
I force myself to stop, to turn around. âTheo.â
He steps forward, hands tucked in the pockets of dark trousers. âItâs good to see you, Jules.â
âYou too,â I say, and we both stand there, taking a moment to look at each other. Itâs funny how people can change without really changing at all. Itâs been ten years since I last saw him, since we both left for university with promises to keep in touch. And we have kept in touch, sporadically. The odd Christmas card, the odd email, a loose connection on social media.
I donât know why he was the first person I called when I ended things with my ex. It was three in the morning, and I couldnât sleep. I didnât want to call my parents, and I couldnât call my friends. Iâd flipped through my phonebook and his number had come up, and Iâd called it.