So would Saint, and honestly, the publicity he’d generated with Julie wasn’t great for Grayscale.

“Point taken,” he muttered and detoured to the head of their PR department on his way back to his office.

“Xanthe,” he greeted as he entered her office.

She was a chic single mother of two who always appeared to be fully in control. Saint suspected she had her days, same as everyone, but the fact that no one ever saw her in a state of stress was a testament to her skill at manipulating optics.

“Saint.” She wore her black hair in a neat bun and had her pointed collar turned up around her chin. “You were on my calendar to see today.” She left her desk to join him where he was making himself at home on her sofa.

“Because of Julie? I just took a whipping over that, thanks. No one appreciates the free publicity I generate to keep Grayscale a household name.”

“Some people are so ungrateful, aren’t they?” she mused. “Perhaps if you hadn’t poured gasoline on her ‘woman scorned’ routine by moving on so quickly?”

Fliss? “It was a few photos at the curb. They’ll turn anything into a story, won’t they?”

“Who is she?” Xanthe asked.

He started to say No one, but that didn’t feel right. He skipped past answering and said, “I’ve been informed that my image needs work. What do you suggest?”

“Honestly? Marriage. To someone appropriate,” she added quickly. “Conservative. A good family. Well-known, but not famous. Not infamous.”

“Not interested,” Saint said flatly. He’d had a front-row seat on the train wreck that was his parents’ marriage. It should have been dissolved decades ago. As far as he was concerned, marriage was nothing less than a cage fight to the death.

“An engagement, then,” Xanthe said with her signature ability to pivot. “Temporary. It doesn’t have to be real, but it would convey that you’re settling down.”

Fliss leapt to mind, but he didn’t want to bring her into a fake engagement while they had a real affair. Too messy. And if he engaged himself to someone else, he couldn’t see her.

“No.”

“All right. Final offer.” Xanthe used a tone of exaggerated patience and leaned back while crossing her legs. “Celibacy. And I’ll circulate rumors that you’re looking for a wife. That signals you’re maturing and developing a sense of responsibility.”

“I have a sense of responsibility. That’s why I’m here. But sure. Run with that.” He flicked his hand.

“Did you hear the part about living like a monk? It won’t work if you continue having affairs.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

He liked Xanthe, he really did, but she was annoying as hell in how well she saw through him.

“Look,” he said with the same exaggerated patience she was using. “There is an image that served me well for a long time but no longer does. That’s why I’m here. I have changed, even if the narrative hasn’t.”

“I know you don’t have nearly as many affairs as you’re reported to have,” she acknowledged smoothly. “I also know that when I say ‘no women,’ you hear ‘except that one you really want to have an affair with.’ I mean none, Saint.”

He looked away, dismayed. He did want an affair with one particular woman. She was all the way across the Atlantic, though. And he hadn’t made any promises to her. He could absolutely leave her with the earrings and never contact her again.

“This is important to me,” he stated decisively. “I need the board to know I’m all grown up and can be trusted with the keys to the car.”

“I’ll start the whispers today.”

“Thank you.” He nodded and rose.

“You’re going to call her, aren’t you?” Xanthe said, staying seated while watching him knowingly.

“We’ll keep it under the radar,” he promised. He ignored the tsk he heard as he left.

He was far more disturbed by Ms. Smythe’s report when he got back to his office.

Delia Chevron didn’t know any designers named Fliss.

CHAPTER FOUR

“YOU CAN’T STEAL from clients, Felicity.” Her supervisor, Luz, was dark red beneath her normally light brown complexion.

“I didn’t steal,” Fliss argued weakly. “It was in the bin.”

But it had been wrong to take the invitation. She had known it was wrong when she’d taken it out of the bin. And when she’d stuck it in her handbag. She had been dead wrong to put it in her clutch and carry that wretched card to the art gallery.

She wanted to sink through the floor with humiliation and guilt that she’d ever even noticed the darned thing.

“You’ve cost me a good client.” Luz’s voice rang with anger. “You know I can’t keep you on.”

“I know,” Fliss mumbled, feeling sick.

For three days, she had thought she had gotten away with her futile attempt to advance herself. Photos of her with Saint had turned up online, but none had shown her face very well, so no one had recognized her.

Then, this morning, she’d been told to report here to Luz before starting her shift at a luxury flat in Chelsea. Fliss had known immediately that her dark deed had come to light. Her stomach had begun to churn.

“Did you really have sex with Saint Montgomery?” Luz hissed.

“What?” That knocked Fliss back in her chair. “Why do you think that?”

“Because he’s Saint Montgomery. You went to his hotel with him, then he tried to send you earrings through Delia Chevron. You left them in his room, I presume?” Luz elevated her brows with disdain.

“What? No.” She touched her earlobe, which was naked, but she had definitely come home with the hoops she’d worn to the gala. She was deeply confused. “I don’t know anything about any earrings. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Which is what Delia said. She pieced together that someone had attended the gala with an invitation addressed to her and had her team investigate how you came by it.”

“I didn’t pretend to be her,” Fliss rushed to assert. She had only implied she was Delia’s plus-one, then had been shuffled off to the side to wait for her. She didn’t explain that Saint was the one who had actually brought her into the gallery. “He hasn’t called you, has he? Did you give him my number?”

Luz glared outrage at her.

“I’m not saying you should,” Fliss mumbled. Where was astral traveling when you really needed it? She would give anything not to be inhabiting her body in this profoundly mortifying moment.

“I’m really disappointed in you, Felicity. I thought you were someone I could count on. Your final pay will go into your account overnight. I cannot give you a reference, but I wish you well in future.” Luz straightened a stack of papers that didn’t need straightening, signaling this discussion was over.

“I’m genuinely sorry, Luz.” Fliss rose. She was tongue-tied, unable to find anything more to say that wasn’t full out groveling.