IT WAS THE first time in her life Millie had asked a man to meet her for a drink and

now she
was going to be late. Seriously, embarrassingly, late. But this was no ordinary date. This
meeting with hotshot celebrity divorce lawyer Hunter Addison was not for herself but for her
mother.
Her mother collected ex-husbands like some people collected coins. And, sadly, it was going
to take an eye-watering amount of coins to get rid of husband number four—money that Millie
could ill afford to lend her mum right now. Hunter Addison wasn’t the cheapest divorce lawyer
in London, but he was reputed to be the best.
And, for her mum, Millie wanted the best.
Millie walked as quickly as she could towards the wine bar where she’d asked Hunter to
meet her after work. She hadn’t spoken to him in person, only via text message. The thought
of talking to him on the phone after their disastrous blind date two months ago was too
confronting. So too was the prospect of meeting him again in person but this wasn’t about
her—it was about her mother’s welfare. She could not bear to see her mother screwed over by
yet another self-serving, narcissist ex.
Millie pushed open the front door of the wine bar and stepped inside, quickly scanning the
room for any sign of Hunter. Couples and small groups were sitting at the various tables in the
front section but there was no sign of a man sitting by himself. Of course, it would be incredibly
rare for a man as good-looking, wealthy and sophisticated as Hunter ever to sit in a bar by
himself. He had a reputation for being a fast-living playboy. Hardly a week went past when he
wasn’t snapped by the paparazzi with yet another gorgeous supermodel-type woman draped
on his arm.
Interestingly, in the couple of months since their blind date, there had been nothing in the
press about his sexual antics. Maybe Millie’s immunity to his attractiveness that night had
bruised his overblown ego. Not flipping likely. Men like Hunter Addison had industrial-
strength egos. Trying to put a dent in his ego would be like trying to crack a brazil nut with a
feather boa. Not going to work.
‘You’re late.’ A deep and crisp male voice rich with censure spoke from behind her.
Millie spun round and, even though she was wearing vertiginous heels, she had to crane her
neck up, up, up to meet Hunter Addison’s whisky-brown eyes. It was hard not to feel a little
flustered coming face-to-face with such arrant masculinity. Such heart-stopping male
perfection. Broad-shouldered and tall, with a lean and athletic build, he exuded strength and
potency. At a virile thirty-four, he was in the prime of his life and IT WAS THE first time in her
life Millie had asked a man to meet her for a drink and now she was going to be late. Seriously,
embarrassingly, late. But this was no ordinary date. This meeting with hotshot celebrity divorce
lawyer Hunter Addison was not for herself but for her mother.
Her mother collected ex-husbands like some people collected coins. And, sadly, it was going
to take an eye-watering amount of coins to get rid of husband number four—money that Millie
could ill afford to lend her mum right now. Hunter Addison wasn’t the cheapest divorce lawyer
in London, but he was reputed to be the best.
And, for her mum, Millie wanted the best.
Millie walked as quickly as she could towards the wine bar where she’d asked Hunter to
meet her after work. She hadn’t spoken to him in person, only via text message. The thought
of talking to him on the phone after their disastrous blind date two months ago was too
confronting. So too was the prospect of meeting him again in person but this wasn’t about
her—it was about her mother’s welfare. She could not bear to see her mother screwed over by
yet another self-serving, narcissist ex.
Millie pushed open the front door of the wine bar and stepped inside, quickly scanning the
room for any sign of Hunter. Couples and small groups were sitting at the various tables in the
front section but there was no sign of a man sitting by himself. Of course, it would be incredibly
rare for a man as good-looking, wealthy and sophisticated as Hunter ever to sit in a bar by
himself. He had a reputation for being a fast-living playboy. Hardly a week went past when he
wasn’t snapped by the paparazzi with yet another gorgeous supermodel-type woman draped
on his arm.
Interestingly, in the couple of months since their blind date, there had been nothing in the
press about his sexual antics. Maybe Millie’s immunity to his attractiveness that night had
bruised his overblown ego. Not flipping likely. Men like Hunter Addison had industrial-
strength egos. Trying to put a dent in his ego would be like trying to crack a brazil nut with a
feather boa. Not going to work.
‘You’re late.’ A deep and crisp male voice rich with censure spoke from behind her.
Millie spun round and, even though she was wearing vertiginous heels, she had to crane her
neck up, up, up to meet Hunter Addison’s whisky-brown eyes. It was hard not to feel a little
flustered coming face-to-face with such arrant masculinity. Such heart-stopping male
perfection. Broad-shouldered and tall, with a lean and athletic build, he exuded strength and
potency. At a virile thirty-four, he was in the prime of his life and IT WAS THE first time in her
life Millie had asked a man to meet her for a drink and now she was going to be late. Seriously,
embarrassingly, late. But this was no ordinary date. This meeting with hotshot celebrity divorce
lawyer Hunter Addison was not for herself but for her mother.
Her mother collected ex-husbands like some people collected coins. And, sadly, it was going
to take an eye-watering amount of coins to get rid of husband number four—money that Millie
could ill afford to lend her mum right now. Hunter Addison wasn’t the cheapest divorce lawyer
in London, but he was reputed to be the best.
And, for her mum, Millie wanted the best.
Millie walked as quickly as she could towards the wine bar where she’d asked Hunter to
meet her after work. She hadn’t spoken to him in person, only via text message. The thought
of talking to him on the phone after their disastrous blind date two months ago was too
confronting. So too was the prospect of meeting him again in person but this wasn’t about
her—it was about her mother’s welfare. She could not bear to see her mother screwed over by
yet another self-serving, narcissist ex.
Millie pushed open the front door of the wine bar and stepped inside, quickly scanning the
room for any sign of Hunter. Couples and small groups were sitting at the various tables in the
front section but there was no sign of a man sitting by himself. Of course, it would be incredibly
rare for a man as good-looking, wealthy and sophisticated as Hunter ever to sit in a bar by
himself. He had a reputation for being a fast-living playboy. Hardly a week went past when he
wasn’t snapped by the paparazzi with yet another gorgeous supermodel-type woman draped
on his arm.
Interestingly, in the couple of months since their blind date, there had been nothing in the
press about his sexual antics. Maybe Millie’s immunity to his attractiveness that night had
bruised his overblown ego. Not flipping likely. Men like Hunter Addison had industrial-
strength egos. Trying to put a dent in his ego would be like trying to crack a brazil nut with a
feather boa. Not going to work.
‘You’re late.’ A deep and crisp male voice rich with censure spoke from behind her.
Millie spun round and, even though she was wearing vertiginous heels, she had to crane her
neck up, up, up to meet Hunter Addison’s whisky-brown eyes. It was hard not to feel a little
flustered coming face-to-face with such arrant masculinity. Such heart-stopping male
perfection. Broad-shouldered and tall, with a lean and athletic build, he exuded strength and
potency. At a virile thirty-four, he was in the prime of his life and