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‘Oh.’
‘Justbe careful around him.FromwhatIunderstand, he can be a little unpredictable.’
Shenarrowed her eyes at him. ‘You’rehaving me on.’
Krishlaughed.Shewished he wouldn’t laugh.She’dmissed that laugh.
Hewhipped out his phone, scrolled to an article onGoogle, and passed it to her.Hereyes got bigger and bigger as she read about the father of the bride. ‘Shit, he spent fifteen years in prison.’
‘Soyou’ll be careful?’ he said, tucking the phone into his jacket pocket.
‘Well, yeah.Ascareful asIcan be,Iguess.’She’dhave to make sure she didn’t run her mouth off in front ofChucklesanymore.Shedidn’t want to end up in a shallow grave for the crime of being rude.
Krishtook a step away from her. ‘It’snice to see you again,Francesca.Youlook good.’Heturned and walked back to the groom’s party.
Shedidn’t want to admit that his words made her breath catch in her throat.Orthat she’d clocked his empty ring finger.
2
Ofall theweddings in all the world, why did she have to turn up at this one?
Krishran his hands over his face, not for the first time that day.Hefelt like he had two jobs: the first one, photographing the event and the second one, keeping an eye onFrancesca.
Itwas chaos.
Thebland hotel ballroom echoed with the repetitive chorus of ‘Rabbit’, performed by aChasandDavetribute band.Guestshopped up and down on the dance floor with the energy of toddlers high on cake.Litteredaround the perimeter, the round, linen-covered tables were stained with the leftovers of the wedding breakfast.Thebride and groom themselves were absent.Krishknew for a fact that they were upstairs screwing in their room again.Francescawas filming the dance floor from the outskirts, on the opposite side from him.
Hehad never been to a wedding where two worlds came crashing together so magnificently.Onthe one side there was the bride’s family, who looked like extras from a biopic about theKrays.Theirsmart suits covered more than just muscle (he saw a cousin of the bride snorting coke off the edge of a switchblade).Larrysat at his table like aCockneyMichaelCorleone, his bodyguard standing to attention at his shoulder and the shrivelled husks of once-tough old men arranged around him in a gangster tableau of theLastSupper.
Onthe other side, there was the groom’s family, so middle class that they all probably had fullISAs, up-to-date wills, and a second home inCornwall.Hisparents and relatives were huddled around their table like it was a raging bonfire, the only thing keeping them from getting eaten by wolves.Robert’smother had cried dramatically during the ceremony, at a volume that made it hard to hear the vows.Mustbe hard to watch the son she thought was a respectable lawyer marry into a crime family.
Thankfully, it was home time.
Krishunslung the heavy camera from around his neck and packed it into his bag, glad the wedding was over for him.Ona normal day, he would have found this whole scenario hilarious, but today, it had just been exhausting, mentally and physically.
Allthanks toFrancescaMarch.
Krishclosed his eyes, reliving the moment he first saw her pop out from behind the groom.Hisstomach muscles had clenched like he’d been punched.Inthe five years since they’d broken up, she’d changed…and she hadn’t.Thesame long, dark hair.Thesame intelligent green eyes.Shewas still curvy, but also seemed more toned.Andher breasts…
Boththe attraction and the heartache had been immediate.
Shewas ‘the one that got away’.Justwhen he’d thought they were ready to take their relationship to the next level—bam!—she’d dropped a bomb on him: she’d met another man—some bloke namedNorman, for chrissakes.
Ithad completely blindsided him.
UpuntilFrancesca,Krishhad led a charmed life.Whenhe wanted something, he usually got it—not with money, but with good luck, hard work, and a friendly, appealing manner.Thingsalways seemed to happen for him.Aftersecondary school, he’d gone toOxfordand completed a law degree.Aftergraduating near the top of his class, he worked as a lawyer for a couple of years, before deciding it wasn’t for him.Hewanted to pursue his photography hobby as a career.
Spurredon byFrancesca—in fact, she was the only person in his life that told him to go for it—he’d applied for an assistant role withConnorKnight.Ofcourse, he got it.Krishhad beat out hundreds of applicants for that job, and he andFrancescawent toParisfor a long weekend to celebrate.Heremembered watching her sleep in the stripes of morning sunlight cast by the wooden blinds that didn’t close all the way.
Whenit came to women, he never had a problem.Hehad always been the one to break things off when it wasn’t going well or got boring.
UntilFrancesca.
Untilshe’d broken his heart.
Acrossthe room, he saw her retrieving her mic pack from the father of the bride.Krishbunched his fingers as the lecherous gangster pulled her into a hug.Heknew howFrancescafelt about hugs from strangers, which is why he was unsurprised when she pretended to step on the gangster’s foot by accident.Shebacked away from him, half-heartedly apologising as she went.Krishchuckled quietly.Shealways did know how to take care of herself.
Krishwaited to ensure she got safely away from the man before zipping up his camera bag and wheeling it towards the exit.
