Page 77 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8

“Irritated,” said Lynna, who was standing in a large, commercial looking kitchen.

“I am irritated. Because he has deviated from the script, and I don’t like it. I’m only glad that this is my last outing with him.”

“Your next contract is at least for a shorter amount of time,” Lynna said. “And with a slightly less infamous man.”

“We need more female clients,” Auggie said, feeling full of woe.

“I would be happy to have more female clients,” Irinka said, “it’s only that men see our pictures and want to hire us. Also, women are happy to break up with their partners on their own. Men are the ones who typically need my services.”

Irinka was a dark horse. She always had been. She acted publicly as His Girl Friday’s secretary, and their avenue for connection to the rich and elite. But in reality she was a breakup artist for hire, and master of disguise. Her services required discretion, and backdoor connections, and she was an expert at both.

Auggie herself wasn’t built for subterfuge. She was too honest. Keeping her opinions to herself when her clients were being ridiculous was hard enough—and also why she spent so much time in their group text.

Lynna was the best chef in the world, in Auggie’s opinion. To taste her food was to taste magic. Some women could make a man long for them forever after a night. Lynna did it after a meal.

Maude was a fae thing, more at home in nature than in the city. She had once rescued a mouse from the science lab when they were at uni and had brought it to live in their dorms. Even now, her affinity for nature was her specialty.

Auggie, Lynna and Maude had all been friends since university, even though they were all from very different backgrounds.

Irinka was the illegitimate daughter of a duke, and a rumored Russian spy, and Irinka had inherited wealth, connections and a penchant for mystery. Maude had been an odd girl out, by virtue of her otherworldliness, and Auggie had related to her, because even though it was in a different fashion, Auggie felt like she was from a different world.

The American in the group.

Lynna was from Wales, but raised in Greece, with a wealthy family, who had lost everything while poor Lynna was at university. Her father had died during the horrific aftermath, and all the friends had rallied around Lynna to make sure she could still complete her studies. To make sure she could still have her life.

They’d stayed together after university too—starting His Girl Friday. With their powers combined, like they were Voltron, from the old cartoon. Individually, they were great. Together they were a powerful force. They’d overcome their past adversity and they’d turned it into something successful. Amazing.

Though she wasn’t feeling all-powerful at the moment.

Worry nagged at the back of her brain.

“What?” Maude asked.

“I’m just... I don’t trust this situation. And I am not his PR person, so this isn’t my problem.” She thought back to the number of times she had deleted pictures of his body off of women’s phones. She had always squinted when she hadn’t looked at those photos. Careful not to see more than she should. Also careful to make sure that he didn’t end up plastered all over newspapers as naked as the day he was born.

So no, she wasn’t his PR person, and he wasn’t anidiot, but he did make questionable decisions where women were concerned.

“You don’t have to take care of him,” Lynna said. “It isn’t your job. You’re supposed toassisthim. This isn’t... Caregiving.”

She said it kindly, but it lodged itself firmly in Auggie’s chest all the same.

“I know that.”

“You have that look about you. That paranoid look, that says you’re attaching life or death stakes to this situation, and he is not...”

“I know he isn’t my mother,” she said. “Also, he isn’t my problem after this. But you know, if he gets into a serious situation while I’m working for him, it is not going to help our business.”

“What do you think is going to happen?” Maude asked.

“I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about that woman. I have a bad feeling about this situation.” She just did. Even if she couldn’t say why. And Augusta Fremont had learned years ago to trust her intuition.

She was in Barcelona. And he wasn’t her responsibility, her friends were right. She wasn’t his babysitter. So she was going to go out, and she was going to have paella. She was going to let Matias sort out his own issues.

CHAPTER TWO

WHENHERPHONErang at five thirty the next morning she knew an instant shot of regret over taking the night off.

“Hello?”