Page 3 of One Time in Paris
“Okay...thanks?” She furrowed her brows. Was he trying to make her feel better? Piss-poor attempt, if so. They’d ended up in bed together, and the fact that neither of them rememberedhowdid nothingto alleviate that problem. “Good to see you,” she managed, then continued forward.
“But—”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Callum,” she said, not bothering to glance back at him. Her hand was already on the knob. Her stomach was really starting to churn.
“I just don’t want to leave you thinking I have a habit of preying on unconscious women in cheetah print.”
“Let’s just forget you ever saw my knickers.” Isla’s fingers tightened around the doorknob. “But for your peace of mind, I don’t believe that.”
“Good.”
She opened the door.
And froze.
Standing in the doorway, suitcase at her side, sunglasses perched low on her nose, was Lola. Her red lips parted with surprise. “Isla?”
A bubble of anxiety rose in Isla’s stomach.
No. Not anxiety.
Then she threw up on Lola’s Louis Vuitton suitcase.
If humiliation were an Olympic sport, she’d just stuck the landing.
2
AIDEN
24 HOURS EARLIER
The last thingAiden wanted was to sit at this table with his ex. The coffee was abysmal, and the Vegas lights were a migraine waiting to happen, the pounding in his head only getting worse.
He should have known Jorge Salas would tell his daughter about their meeting in Vegas. He just hadn’t expected her to show up uninvited—especially when her presence had already complicated Camden Enterprises’ negotiations with Ipolymer.
Nothing had been kosher in his business relationship with Salas Group since the moment he’d made the mistake of sleeping with Lola Salas.
That had been playing with fire. His older brother Quinn had warned him, but he hadn’t listened because Lola was beautiful, polished, and knew exactly how to handle herself at any function.
A power couple, people said. He’d never liked the term—too American, too optimistic. She, the daughter of a powerful international investment banker. Him, the CEO of Camden Enterprises, a top defense contractor in the UK, with major dealings in the United States.
Everyone thought they wereperfectfor each other.
But three months into dating, Lola had started ring shopping.
Three months.
Maybe it shouldn’t have rattled him. But it had. He hadn’t nearly been thinking “marriage is the next step”—they’d never even talked about it. Or saidI love you.He’d neverbeenin a relationship for three months, even.Ever.
In every relationship he’d been in—including the one with Lola—something had always been . . .missing. Not that he could name it. He wasn’tthatinterested in psychoanalyzing himself. He’d just known he wasn’t ready to marry her and had broken it off.
She’d wisely dropped the wedding talk after that first breakup.
“Why do you keep checking your cell phone?” Lola snapped, pausing mid-cut into a pastry. “I told you, he’ll be down soon enough.”
Aiden frowned and cleared the notification from his watch. “We agreed to meet at the convention because it was neutral territory, Lo. Him sending you takes it a bit into less friendly waters.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. We can have a civil conversation, can’t we?” Lola arched a perfectly shaped reddish-gold eyebrow, then stabbed her pastry.
