A/n: So, I'm hoping that everyone will like my new story. As ever, please read and review.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Chapter 1

"Mom, she's back!" Daniel Meade ran past the receptionist and skidded into Claire Meade's office, still dressed in his Navy Pea Coat and leather gloves.

"Who is, dear?" Claire asked, not looking up from the paperwork she had been going through for several hours, her black rimmed spectacles perched on the end of her nose daringly and the cardigan of a cream angora twin set slung over her shoulders, secured like a cape by the top pearl button in order to keep out the early winter chill.

He peeled off his coat and gloves, laying them over the arm of the couch that adorned her office, "Betty," he said, unable to peel the smile from his face as well.

"Oh, yes." Claire cried, finally looking up to her son, "for her book signing."

Daniel's face fell, "you knew?" He slumped into the chair opposite his mother like a sullen child, "I had to walk past Barnes and Noble this morning to find out and you already knew. Why didn't you say anything?"

"What is there to say, Daniel? The last time we spoke about Betty you told me to … 'butt out'." She took off her glasses and laid them on the desk. "Does it make a difference?"

"No," he said quietly, meeting her gaze, "no. Of course not." He responded with much more conviction.

"Good." She sighed, "besides you have Gabriella, Daniel. Why would you want to mess that up?"

He smirked, "who you don't particularly like."

"Well … ," Claire stopped herself from saying anything that would cause an argument.

Daniel stood up, retrieved his coat and gloves before turning back to his mother. "She's not Betty." He grimaced at his own words.

"No, she isn't." She got up from her seat and took him into her arms, "Daniel, you know that I will support you in any decision that you make about your life, unless it's totally reckless of course. Although I never had to worry like that about you. And God knows, Alexis still knows how to push those buttons sometimes." She walked him over to the couch, sitting with him. "Now, answer me this. You've been with Gabriella a long time and yet you still haven't asked the girl to marry you. Why is that exactly?"

"I don't know, it just doesn't seem the right thing to do."

"And why would that be?" Claire pushed. Daniel opened his mouth to speak but if he said the words out loud he knew it would make everything real and he simply couldn't do that. Not yet. "I think that maybe you don't love her as much as you think you do."

His eyes met hers, searching them for an answer that would help him. "Mom?" He asked apprehensively, his eyes hooded, transporting them both back to a time when he was a five year old asking for another cookie.

"It's ok, Daniel." She took him into his arms, "I think Betty coming home at this time is opportune, but you need to work out what it is that you want before it's too late. It's been five years since Betty left and you haven't been able to fully move on."

"Are you saying she has?"

"What did she have to move on from, Daniel? You hadn't given her any indication of how you felt before she left. I wouldn't be surprised if she's had several suitors. But what exactly was she supposed to do? I know the two of you had this connection between you that when something was up with one of you the other instinctively knew about it. But even Betty isn't that good, Daniel. And putting three and a half thousand miles between you wouldn't have helped either. Plus, when was the last time you talked to her?"

His guilty eyes looked up to hers, "the day I signed her release."

Claire smiled sympathetically, "there are times when you still look like my little lost boy. I should be telling you off but instead, I can't help but feel sorry for you. Had your upbringing not been so totally screwed up by your father and me then you would probably be in that damn drafty mansion with Betty right now, filling it with grandchildren for me to look after. But as it is, I have to ask, what do you want Daniel?"

"Betty, I want Betty."

"And Gabriella?"

"I'm meeting her for a late lunch, I'll tell her then."

Claire smiled, "then go and get Betty. I understand that she'll be at the Fifth Avenue store from eleven for a couple of hours. Why don't you casually pop by and say 'hello'?"

He kissed his mother on the cheek. "Thanks, I think I might just do that. You can handle things here for a while, can't you?"

"Of course, darling. Tell Betty I said 'hi'."

"Ok, mom." He grinned, his heart pounding in his chest so loudly that he could hear it in his ears. "Wish me luck?" He said as he rounded the corner and back down the corridor.

Claire's smile faded, "good luck, son. You're going to need it."

.oOo.

"You look beautiful, darling." Garry Vincent enthused, as he bent down and kissed his fiancée's cheek, his hands fiddling with the buttons on his shirt as she applied her blusher.

Gazing up to meet the cool blue loving look she was receiving from her publisher and husband to be, Betty Suarez blushed. "You always make my job harder when you tell me that." She said, swatting at his hands as they slid under her arms and over her breasts. His fingers deftly working his own kind of magic as he nuzzled at her neck.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he teased her, "but I can never get over how it is that I managed to get you to fall in love with me. And the last thing I'm going to do is allow anyone else the chance to rob you away, so that's why I keep on telling you, my darling. To keep you close." He purred, his voice sending an icy shiver down her spine. He turned her face towards him with a finger under her chin. "I love you, Betty, with all of my heart. I can't wait to marry you." He placed the most delicate kiss to her freshly painted lips in order to limit the damage on her handiwork. "I'll be back," he grinned, standing up straight and leaving her to return to her beautification.

Looking into the mirror, she watched him walk into the bathroom, the smile that she had plastered on dissipating, before beginning to scrutinise the look on her face. She still couldn't quite believe that she was engaged to be married, let alone to one of the most successful publishers in England. But as she kept on thinking about finally being home, she had to wonder if there wasn't still some small piece of her that didn't want what Garry was offering. She had to admit he had a lot to give, he was charming, a gentleman and the sex was amazing. He had a penthouse in Belgravia, a hall in Hertfordshire and a yacht moored in Monte Carlo harbour. And he'd have given Matt Hartley a run for his money quite literally had she had to weigh them up against one another.

But what if that was all too much? She remembered how Matt had hidden his wealth because he'd felt it a barrier and she didn't believe she would be any different. And what would she do after she and Garry married in a society wedding that she really didn't want? He had already told her that he expected her to stay at home and watch the 'offspring when nanny was unavailable to do the job', after all, the first born son would be inheriting a title at some stage in their life and it 'simply wouldn't do for the child's mother to have a career'.

Sighing, she gently tapped the blusher brush against her chin. If only she could fathom out what it was she really wanted. When she was younger, she'd wanted her own magazine. Her first had been the one that she and Hilda had made for their dying mother. Her second had been the highly acclaimed London B magazine that she'd set up with Lindsay Dunne and although she was still on the masthead as a contributor, fiction had now become her passion. Having sold her half of the magazine back to Dunne it had allowed her to put down a healthy deposit on a fifth floor flat in Southwark, several blocks behind the Tate Modern and The Globe Theatre. From here she was allowed the merest peak of a view of the Thames and the London Eye on one side of her living room and The Shard on the other.

Her new flat had also been the place where she'd written her story, or more precisely, her's and Daniel's. Having been translated into several languages, Garry's publishing house was now marketing her book to the world at large after selling over a quarter of a million copies in four weeks in the UK and topping the Amazon charts. Hence the rather quickly organised book tour of America that she had just started in New York, of all places.

Her book, she smiled to herself. The reception that it had received in the UK had been amazing, in a whirlwind of TV specials and book signing events, Betty's book, along with her face, had been plastered everywhere. On building hoardings, in Tube stations, at bus stops and even on the side of a double decker. Life for a short while had become unbearable, she'd missed meeting friends for a drink or lunch. She'd taken taxis across town in order to stop being recognised on public transport. She'd even taken to having her groceries delivered so that she wouldn't have to spend half of her life in her local supermarket signing autographs and being asked if she pictured herself as the leading lady and, if so, who she imagined her love interest to be.

If only they knew. And of course, the only people that were likely to realise it was about them would be close family and she hoped she'd changed enough of the settings and events to get away with anyone reading too much into it. The only other person who would know for sure would be Daniel himself, and she was fairly certain that he wouldn't want to read a romance, even if she was the author. She sighed again, closing the lid on her blusher and picking up her hair brush to pull it through her espresso locks, involuntarily closing her eyes.

"Betty?" she heard Daniel call.

"Yes," she answered, her megawatt smile beaming as he walked up to her and took her into his arms. A strong hand found its way to the nape of her neck, supporting her head as he bent towards her, his fingers delving through her hair to touch her skin and find her pulse point.

"God, I love you, Betty. No-one has ever touched me like you have. I need you."

"You have me, Daniel," she said, finding the courage to close the gap between them and kiss him. "I'm yours, forever."

"Betty? Betty?" Daniel started to cry out, but something wasn't quite right. "Darling, are you ok?" She realised that Garry was sat next to her on the bench, his hands on her shoulders. She opened her eyes, the brush now lying on the floor by her feet. "Wow, you really zoned out there."

A smile touched her lips as she tried to bring herself back to the present. "I'm fine," she said quickly, "thank you." She bent down to pick up the brush as he got up and retraced his steps back into the bathroom, her reflection smiling wistfully back at her as she touched her fingers to her lips. "Daniel," she whispered, "I need you too."

A tinge of regret clouded her features as she heard Garry return to their bedroom. What was she going to do? She smiled up at him as he came closer. "Are you ready?"

She smiled wider as she nodded her head, "yes." She said, her head unable to stop her thoughts whirling and her heart beating erratically, hoping that the feelings she had buried deep within her for so long weren't on show. The last thing she needed right now was anything to cloud her judgement. Besides, she loved Garry, didn't she? Or was she just settling again? Perhaps the easiest thing to do would be to just get on with what she had to do, see her family during the few days they were staying there and then get on with the book tour. As long as she distanced herself from Daniel and Meade Publications then hopefully she could keep herself in check. After all, how likely was it that she would actually see him during her visit?

Garry helped her into her coat as she pushed her feet into the Blahnik heels she had picked out to wear and picking up her purse as he opened the hotel room door. "Beautiful," he said as they kissed, "I love you."

"And the money I'm making you," she teased as she straightened his tie, "I love you too, Garry."

.oOo.

When Daniel left his office at Meade he had assumed that it would take a good while for his driver to crawl through the midday traffic to the Fifth Avenue store. But by the time he was dropped off he had a bit of time to kill, having decided that he didn't want to pitch in too early. Determining that he had at least half an hour to kill he went up to the first floor coffee shop within the domineering booksellers, got himself a drink and found a seat next to the glass balustrading where he could look down to the ground floor and at the line of people that were moving genially forward towards where Betty was sat behind a large oak desk, taking each proffered book in turn and inscribing it with a dedication.

The remnants of his coffee drunk, he set off down towards the ground floor, especially now that the once burgeoning line of buyers had dwindled. As he rounded the corner he was stopped by a young sales assistant. "Can I help you, sir?" She asked.

"I'm here to see Betty."

The girl looked at him as if he had three heads. "Betty? Who's Betty?" He looked stumped, knowing exactly who Betty was, taking in her hunched over form across the floor from him, still signing the remaining buyers books. The girl looked over to where Daniel's eyes were aimed. "Oh, you're here for the book signing." She picked up a copy of Betty's book and handed it to him, the hardback tome weighing heavy in his hands.

"That's right," he said a little too brightly, "thanks." He nodded towards the girl and slowly walked toward the desk, his eyes taking in the cover. A typical romance by the looks of things, why had Betty sold herself out to do this, he wondered, taking in the beautiful black and white photograph of her that sat on the back of the dust jacket. He turned it over again, "Rosa Martinez?" She had written under a pseudonym. Why?

He joined the end of the queue which now consisted of three people, looking behind himself every now and then to note that he was still the last. As he drew closer her speech became clearer, the delightful tones of her patter sinking deep within him and lighting a fire in his heart. Whenever she chuckled, the tones tickled at his senses, opening up old wounds and allowing his feelings to rip through him like a tornado. By the time he got to the desk he'd had to loosen his tie, his mouth so dry that swallowing was an effort, his heart in his mouth seemingly blocking his airways. He was a wreck already and he hadn't even spoken to her yet.

As the last buyer had said their 'thank you's' to Betty for the umpteenth time, she was suddenly distracted by a man setting down a cup of coffee on the desk for her. "How's it going?" He asked, knocking her pen onto the floor and dropping down to retrieve it for her.

"Great," Daniel heard her respond, "everyone has been so friendly, Garry. Thank you for sorting this all out for me."

"My pleasure, darling. I've booked us a table at The Russian Tea Room for two o'clock." Did people still go there? Daniel had to wonder. But then the guy was British, he was probably just out to impress her.

"Wow, I've never been there." Daniel smiled. I'd have never have taken her there, that's for sure, this guy is a schmuck, he thought. "It's more of a tourist spot." He heard Betty add. Or trap, Daniel appended, watching her as she attempted to take the proffered pen that Garry was holding out to her, but he held firm pulling her to him and kissing her.

"I can't wait to …" Daniel had to stop this, what was that guy doing?

The book landed on the desk with a thud, the noise echoing around the store, the coffee splashing over the side of the cup from the sudden impact. "I wonder if you could sign my book, please."

Daniel watched her shoo the guy away, but he didn't leave completely. "Of course, I'm sorry," she said, keeping her head lowered as she took a sip of her drink and placed the nib of the pen on the front page. Daniel's eyes left the face of the scowling man and travelled down to where Betty's hand was poised ready for action. "What would you like as the dedication?"

Daniel thought quickly, "how about you start with, 'to my dear old friend, Daniel'." He smirked.

He watched her drop the pen, her head slowly raising as she first took in his torso and then his face, her eyes widening in realisation, her hands covering her mouth as she gasped, "Daniel?"

Even when Garry appeared at her side, Daniel never took his eyes away from hers, the chocolate depths swirling before him. "Is this man bothering you, darling?" He said, obviously in an attempt to let Daniel know who had a claim on Betty.

"No," she said, her eyes never leaving Daniel's for one second. "Go and wait in the back for me, Garry. I'll be there as soon as I finish up here."

"Ok," he leant down kissing her cheek, Daniel noting how she seemingly flinched at this small show of affection. Something wasn't quite right with the picture she was portraying but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

As soon as Garry had left them, she relaxed. "What are you doing here?" Betty asked in a whisper.

"I could ask the same of you." Daniel retorted, allowing his eyes to finally dance over her face taking in how lovely she looked. "This is a bookstore, after all. I'm just here buying a book from a much-admired author and having her sign it for me." His eyes fell to her left hand, the bright diamond glistening away on her ring finger. "What are you doing here?"

"Signing your book, obviously." She grinned, her smile as amazing and beautiful as he remembered and frequently saw in his dreams.

"Obviously, but apart from that Betty. What happened with your magazine and Dunne?"

"I found a different calling."

"Was that before or after the Brit," his eyes look behind her as he moved his head to intimate where her boyfriend had left the store.

"Before, not that that's any of your business."

"No, you're right. It isn't any of my business, I relinquished that right the day I signed your release form." His eyes were cold, his words bitter. She took it on the chin but he could tell that she was holding back the tears. "I'm sorry." He hung his head, "just sign my book for me and I'll go."

"Daniel, it doesn't have to be like this." She said, taking up her pen again and filling two pages with her handwriting.

He shook his head, knowing that he had missed his chance with her completely. "Ah, but it does. I should never have come." After closing the cover, she pushed the book towards him. He placed his hand on top ready to pull it closer in order to pick it up when she rested her hand on his.

His eyes found hers once more, "Have dinner with me, tomorrow," she pleaded. "Garry's going on to Boston for some convention so I'll be here on my own."

"I can't, I'm sorry." He shrugged.

"Oh, ok." Her smile fell from her face, "I just wanted to catch up with my 'old friend'." She bit her lower lip.

He closed his eyes, could he possibly endure spending several hours with the woman that had become his best friend all those years before and now who he knew he loved more than anyone else? "Ok, I'll come. But not to The Russian Tea Room." She grinned her megawatt smile, "I'll make a reservation for us somewhere nice for seven." He said returning her grin. Ok, so their 'date' was probably going to kill him but he couldn't possibly reject her now, not again. "And I'm paying, I owe you."

"You owe me nothing, Daniel"

I owe you everything, he thought."I owe you five years." He chuckled, taking his book under his arm. "You know I'm not going to read this don't you?" He said honestly.

She nodded, "I guessed as much. I haven't turned to the dark side you know."

"You're writing romance, I'd say that was pretty much beyond the dark side, Betty. What happened to writing something meaningful?"

"It's in that book," she gestured as he made some face at her and rolled his eyes. He took a couple of steps back, attempting to ascertain where the cash registers were. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Daniel."

"Yep, I'll text you. I take it you're still on the same number?" She nodded. He waved the book in front of her, "I'd best go and pay for this. See you tomorrow." He smiled.

She stood up quickly and rushed around the desk. Taking him in her arms like she had so many times before and like the last five years apart had never happened. "See you tomorrow." She smiled up at him before letting him go. For what seemed like forever he just stood there trying to take in what had just happened, a little shell-shocked if he were to tell the truth. "Earth to Daniel," she waved her hand in front of his face. "I thought you were going to pay for your book."

"Yes, I am." He said, slowly turning and walking towards the sales desk. He stopped, looking back and having to grin at the fact that she was still stood on the same spot watching his retreat, already biting at her lower lip once more and giving him a small wave before picking up her pen and cup.

As she began walking towards the back of the store and where Garry had previously exited, he could truly appraise his meeting with her. If she turned back once more then he knew that Garry's days were numbered. As she reached the door, she turned, looked him dead in the eye and smiled, before taking her phone out of her jacket pocket. His buzzed away, he pulled it out from his pants pocket and opened up the text. C U tomoz. Can't wait, B x. He texted back. Neither can I, and I miss you already. D x. Catching one last look of her glorious smile as she brought her head up from her phone, she held his gaze momentarily before placing her hand on the handle, opening the door and walking through it. He drew in a large steadying breath, smiling to himself as he placed the book by the register and paid for it. If he was lucky, then he'd have time to read her inscription later on that afternoon when he was meant to be in the gym. He could steal an hour and go home, as there was no way he could read it at the office. But first things first. His phone buzzed away in his hand.

He read the text. I'm not going to be able to make dinner. Shoot overran in Morocco, flight delayed in Paris and now stuck in heavy traffic because of an accident on the way into Manhattan. Miserable and tired, I'm going home to sleep through it. See you tomorrow? Loving you, Gabs xx.

Ok so maybe not, he texted her back. Ok honey, I'll see you Friday, I'll arrange dinner for us as I can't meet tomorrow, meeting up with an old friend who's been out of town for a while.

Her reply came moments later. Hope you have a good time with Becks and send him my love. Gabs xxx.

Well he wasn't going to correct her. Will do, love you. And so that was that. He hailed a cab and went to dinner, asking his mother to join him but she had already eaten so he went by himself. No point in wasting the reservation.

Ushering him to his table, the waiter quickly took his order, all the while Daniel's hands itching to open the book and read the dedication that Betty had written. He opened up the bag, wondering if what was printed on the jacket was also printed on the binding as he pulled it off the book. To his relief, he found it was a plain red cover, the only hint to the contents inside being the gold lettering on the spine and that was going to be hidden as he opened up the pages. He set the book on the table, opened the cover and began to read.

"To the most wonderful and dearest old best friend that I ever had," it began, "I can only apologise for how things were left when you and I parted ways, and for the fact that I just seem to have spent my life in a whirlwind ever since. I should've called, or emailed but I was afraid, afraid that you still felt that I had wronged you in some way. I should've told you I was leaving but I couldn't bring myself to, and the day I finally plucked up the courage to talk to you about it, Marc chose to bury me in the sand and watch me flounder.

"I'm not proud of myself or of my actions. I missed you so much. No, I miss you, even today before I got to Barnes and Noble I was thinking about you and our situation. I miss our late night conversations in front of an old movie, or dinner in the conference room when we're the only two people left in the Meade building. I miss how whenever there was something wrong we could just look at each other and know instinctively what it was and how we could help out. I miss knowing that you're only half an hour away if I need you. I miss our hugs.

"I left Dunne behind because it was too much and it took me away from the one thing I loved to do, write. You do realise that although I aspired to be like you, I still couldn't do it properly. It takes a certain kind of person to run a magazine and I'm not it. Not on my own anyway.

"I couldn't come home because I'd made a life for myself in London and as a writer of fiction has to write about what they know then I had to gain an understanding, a certain knowledge that only writers in this field can garner. I was finally able to experience life without being held back, no-one knew me, no-one understood me, no-one truly cared. I had to make a new way, forge a different path. I still care about what I write and I still care about my readers, I just offer them my words in a different format. I hope that in time you'll swallow your pride and read this book of mine. Maybe you can help me out with the ending, I'm still not sure I got it completely right.

"Daniel, I hope that we can overcome our differences of late, we've nearly been apart from each other for nearly as long as we've actually known one another and I would hate to think that another year goes by without our friendship rekindling. I want you to know that I don't hold any ill feeling towards you, you may have missed my party but I was wrong to mess up the bigger picture, I was leaving you behind and had it happened the other way around then I probably would've reacted in a similar way. I love you, Daniel and I need you, and your showing up today has only helped to strengthen those sentiments. Please, let's resolve this and come out of this as friends once more. Your loving friend, B x."

He sat back in his chair, the comprehension of words shocking him to his core. With the way they had parted that very afternoon and the words she had written in his book, there was something very wrong with the bigger picture. He started to hack away at his steak as he continued to think about what had transpired but he came back to the same few questions, what was she doing with that Garry guy? Was she really in love with him? And, if not, what was she doing wearing his ring?

He looked at the book again, were the answers in there or was it just going to make him ask more questions. Swallow my pride and read her words, she wants to tell me something and she wants my advice on how it ends. He flicked through to the first chapter.

I can honestly say that I never hated anyone more than I hated Peter after that very first week of work that he had subjected me to. I knew that I was green but he really hadn't needed to take advantage of my naivety in the way that he had, especially as I hadn't been his candidate of choice; it had been his father who had hired me and as a result I was suffering from the brunt of Peter's anger.

Usually the angel of compassion, I hadn't recognised the trait, trying to hold onto the one and only job I had ever had because it was such a great opportunity and I certainly didn't want to have to go back to cleaning up after sick cats or making a career out of being the chips girl at my local Mexican restaurant. He threw everything at me, walking a dog that he didn't even own, picking up his dry cleaning from several places taking me far and wide across the city in order to do it, picking out cabbage from his coleslaw and making sure it stayed at a certain temperature. I think you get the picture.

But then something changed. I'd finally had enough, I flipped out. And all because he had set me up for the biggest fall yet.

This day began like any other, I turned up for work as I had done every day that week, I had gone through my emails, sorted out the diary, updated Peter's list of jobs and made every last call in order to set up the latest PR campaign for the hottest new boy band on the planet – Up & Over. By the time Peter had finally decided to pull himself out of bed of whichever flavour of the month he had slept with the previous evening, I was making the last call to the catering company.

As I hung up the phone, I breathed in deeply, picking up my pad and pen, and his coffee and Danish that I had had the foresight to ask the receptionist to get for me, even if it was under duress. "Peter," I said calmly, keeping my smile at a reasonable pitch for him at this time in the morning. His head shot up from where it was lolling over the back of the chair, from the red rims of his eyes it was clear that hadn't been asleep for very long. "Good morning," I placed the Danish in front of him, he pushed it away as I noticed a green tinge colour his face. I pulled the lid off the cup and placed the steaming liquid down in front of him before taking a seat opposite, my pen poised ready on the first line of a new page in my notebook.

"Thank you," he said, somewhat genuinely a smile hinting at his lips. "So, what do we have today, Lily."

I looked up from my book, this was a surprising turn of events. "The nine thirty meeting you had with your dad has been switched to twelve. You have a finance meeting up at accounts at eleven and then there's the shoot for Miyagi's Boys from half one this afternoon down at the old studio." I smiled, finally feeling like I was actually being useful as his assistant.

"Ok, thanks." He nodded, "I'll meet you back here about one so if you can make sure there's a town car ready for us then, we'll make that shoot."

"We?" I asked.

"Well, you are my assistant aren't you? Who knows, I may need you to run a few errands or something," he smiled sweetly.

I wasn't too sure of this change of heart from him but it was better that than the way he had been with me over the previous four days, so aloof and judgemental. "Ok, I'll be ready to leave at one."

"Great," he smiled, as I turned and headed for the door. "Oh, and Lily." I turned back. "Thanks for the coffee and the Danish. Much appreciated."

I nodded, before heading back out to my desk. At ten forty five he left his office and I was left in peace and quiet once again to go over the diary for the following week, confirming meetings and setting up internal lunches and the like. Then at one he appeared once again, his mouth a thin line as he looked over towards me, obviously his father had given him some kind of ultimatum and Peter hadn't liked it. "Ready?" He asked me.

"Yep," I said, obediently following him to the elevators and down to the waiting car. He hardly said a word to me, but to me it was a welcome relief, it gave me time to regroup and to try and understand this man beside me who was acting like a sullen teenager. By the time we got to the studio, nothing much had changed until he met up with his old friend from college. I took a seat out of the way, watching models taking their places around a burnt out car. The latest single by the pop group who were the main focus of the pictures, blaring out around the place. I saw Peter look around the property for me. I tried to hide but couldn't, he strode purposely towards me as I cowered into the chair.

"We need your help," he blurted out.

"What?" I asked, suddenly confused, "why?"

"One of the models has gone missing, you'll have to fill in for her."

I looked back at the developing scene; the models, all scantily clad, looked beautiful and poised. "No," I shook my head, "no way."

"Lily, I need your help. I'm desperate here." He took hold of my hands, his thumbs rubbing circles over my skin. I blushed from the sudden contact, too aware of how close he was to me. "Please, Lily." For the second time that day, he was all sincerity.

"I don't know, Peter. What would I have to do?"

"Just go out to the changing room, put on the costume that's left out there, come back and follow what the other girls are doing."

Could it really be that bad? I thought to myself. "Ok," I grinned my silver grin, for at the age of twenty two I was still wearing braces because my family couldn't afford to help me pay for them beforehand. "I'll do it." I added, in proper Bridget Jones fashion.

I made my way out to the back, found the costume Peter had told me about and put it on. It was a snug fit around my chest, which I was a little semi-conscious of with the amount of cleavage that was on show, but I could do this, especially if I hid behind one of the other models. And even though I was wearing something that was akin to what I thought only hookers and porn stars would wear, I didn't feel overtly unsexy. I even wondered if my boyfriend would like to see my dressed like this. Here went nothing.

I sidled out, the photographer grabbing my arm and placing me in front of everyone. I would be dead in the centre of the album cover in all of my glory. What would my mother think of me? And what about my dead father? I felt so ashamed but I was only helping out I reasoned.

I heard a snigger from somewhere behind me as I leant against the hood of the car, I didn't know how to look sensual at that point in my life. I'd had one boyfriend up until that point and I had never felt the urge to look at him as if I was lusting after him the way the photographer wanted me to look at these eighteen year old wannabe's. I leant my body backwards, arching my back, my legs apart and I promptly fell onto my arse to rapturous applause and laughter from every corner ringing in my ears. This was humiliating, I stood up and pounded for the dressing room, somehow managing to catch Peter's sombre face. At least he hadn't laughed. Grabbing my clothes and stuffing them into my bag, I pulled my coat on around me and hugged it to myself. "Lily?" I heard him call out softly. A lone tear escaped over my cheek but it was the only one I allowed.

I turned towards him abruptly. "What?" I spat out, my hands shoved forcefully under my armpits.

"I'm sorry about what happened in there."

"Just in there, or what's been happening all week." I finally snapped. "Because from where I'm standing there hasn't been much of a difference. What were you trying to do, make me quit?"

He didn't have to say anything for me to finally understand what was going on. "I'm sorry, Lily."

I nodded my head, "oh, forgive me if I don't believe you. Just because I didn't fit into the description of the woman you wanted to have as your assistant, does not mean you can trample on me to get to your father." I said, no longer caring if I was now going to stamp on his feelings. "What did he say at lunch, by the way, that I wasn't going anywhere until you learnt to control yourself?"

"Something like that," he admitted. "Look, I never meant for things to go this far."

"But you meant for me to lose my job. The only thing I ever cared about was the fact that I had a job at Hipster Records, working for the best recording studios on the East Coast and for the Howard family as well. This was my one shot of gaining the skills I needed to set up on my own one day, but because you care so little about anyone but yourself, I now have to find myself something else to do. I quit."

"You can't." He sounded like he was five.

"I can, my obligation was to your father, not you. I'll let him know what's happened." That surprised him.

"No, please. We can work this out Lily." He pleaded.

I shook my head, there was nothing else left to say. I slung my bag over my shoulder, picked up my shoes and turned on my heel. "I'll get this costume back to you next week." I said, as I pulled open the door and slammed it behind me, finally allowing the once threatening tears to roll freely over my cheeks. That, or so I thought, would be last time I saw him. How wrong I was.

As Daniel took the final sip of the red wine he had been drinking, he closed the book and placed it back into the bag. Jeez, he thought, this is about us. "Oh my God." He managed.

"I'm sorry, sir?" The waiter asked him, his face perplexed.

"Um, nothing. Can I just have the bill please?" The waiter skipped off, only too happy to oblige.

Daniel looked at his watch, three thirty. There was no way he was going back to work now. He rung his mom, saying that something had come up and that he'd speak to her later on. In truth, he was intrigued to find out what Betty had written next and he didn't want to waste another minute not knowing.

He jumped in a cab and set off for home, making sure that he stopped off at the corner store for a few supplies before seeking solace in his place and battening down the hatches. He didn't know how much of the book he'd get through in one night but he was going to make sure that he had a damn good try in finishing it. With a pot of coffee on, snacks strategically placed around him and the throw from the back of the sofa over his legs he began to read chapter two.

My mother and father had always brought me up to be civil but as Peter stood in front of me in the lounge of my family home, I was finding that that was an increasingly difficult thing for me to do ...