"Somebody stop that woman!" Serena Vale ran faster. Behind her, a security guard shouted something about trespassing, while the tiny silver clutch bouncing against her hip threatened to fly into the swimming pool. "I'm literally leaving!" she yelled over her shoulder. "Why are you people acting like I stole the house?" She reached the driveway, spotted a black luxury car with its back door unlocked, and dived inside. "Finally," she panted, slamming the door. "A normal person with a working car." "Get out." Serena froze. A man sat on the opposite side of the back seat, dressed in a black shirt with his sleeves rolled to his elbows. His expression suggested she had just tracked mud across his bedroom floor. She blinked at him. Then at the car. Then back at him. "Oh." "I'm waiting." "Right. Of course." She grabbed the door handle. "Before you start shouting, I would like to clarify that I was not trying to steal your car." "Then why are you in it?" "Excellent question. I'm beginning to ask myself the same thing." His stare remained unimpressed. Serena stepped out, smoothing her dress with as much dignity as a woman could manage after fleeing a garden party like a wanted criminal. For the record, this was not entirely her fault. Olivia Cross's birthday party had been going wonderfully until Serena accidentally knocked a tray of drinks into a man who had spent the last twenty minutes making insulting comments about her shoes. The drinks had landed on his white trousers. The man had screamed. Someone had shouted for security. And Serena, rather than stand around explaining that the man had deserved it, had decided to leave. A reasonable decision, in her opinion. The stranger got out of the car. He was tall. Annoyingly tall. The kind of tall that made a person feel they ought to apologise for taking up space. He looked her up and down. "Are you always this careless?" Serena's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?" "You heard me." "And are you always this rude, or am I receiving a special service?" His eyes narrowed. She smiled brightly. "Good. Now we're both having a memorable evening." "Damian!" A woman in a gold dress hurried towards them, followed by two security guards. Her eyes moved from Serena to Damian, and her expression shifted into delighted curiosity. "What happened?" "Your guest," Damian said, "appears to have mistaken my car for a getaway vehicle." "I didn't know it was your car!" Serena protested. "The door was open!" "Should I leave my front door open and expect you to move in?" "If your front door is as welcoming as your car, perhaps you should consider changing your security." One of the guards coughed suspiciously. The woman in gold pressed her lips together, clearly fighting a smile. Damian did not find anything amusing. "Do you have any idea who I am?" Serena stared at him. Then she laughed. Not politely. Not delicately. She actually laughed. "Is that a serious question? Because if you're about to tell me you're the king of England, I really don't have the energy." The woman's smile disappeared behind her hand. Damian stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Damian Cross." Serena's laughter stopped. Of course. Of all the cars in Lagos, she had climbed into Damian Cross's. The man who had called her reckless at Talia's birthday dinner. The man who thought having money gave him permission to speak to everyone like they were a minor inconvenience. The man she had privately nicknamed His Royal Arrogance. She looked at the car again. "Honestly," she muttered, "I should have stayed home." "On that," Damian replied, "we finally agree." The woman in gold let out a small laugh. "Victoria," she said, offering Serena a hand. "Damian's friend." Serena shook it. "Serena. His unfortunate passenger." "Former passenger," Damian corrected. "Trust me, I'm devastated." She turned to leave, only to realise that her phone was missing. Her smile vanished. "Oh, no." "What now?" Damian asked. "My phone." "Perhaps it escaped through the window." She shot him a murderous look. "You know what? I hope your car develops a mysterious engine problem." She hurried back towards the garden. Damian watched her go, his jaw set. "Who is she?" he asked. Victoria glanced at him. "Talia's best friend. Serena Vale. You've met her before." "I remember." "Clearly." He looked at Victoria. "What does that mean?" "Nothing, darling." But Victoria was smiling again. Across the garden, Serena was crawling beneath a table, searching for her phone while Olivia laughed so hard she could barely stand. Serena found it beside a chair, stood up, and pointed towards the driveway. "I hate that man." Olivia wiped tears from her eyes. "You've known him for ten minutes tonight." "Ten minutes too many." Unfortunately for Serena, Olivia's birthday weekend was only beginning. And Damian Cross had just discovered that the woman he could barely tolerate was also the best friend of the one person in his family who never took no for an answer.

Serena had been at Olivia Cross's birthday party for precisely forty-seven minutes when she decided that leaving home would go down as one of the worst decisions she had made that month. She was still annoyed about the car incident, mostly because Damian Cross had somehow managed to make her feel like the criminal in a situation that had involved nothing more serious than a misplaced phone and a very unfortunate choice of vehicle. She had found her phone beneath a chair, apologised to Olivia for the commotion, and spent the last ten minutes convincing herself that she would never have to speak to Damian again that evening. That plan lasted until Olivia appeared beside her with a plate of cake. "Don't tell me you're still angry." Serena accepted the plate. "I'm not angry." "You're cutting that cake like it insulted your mother." "The cake is innocent. I'm practising restraint." Olivia laughed and leaned against the table. Unlike her cousin Damian, she had a personality that made people want to spend time with her. She was warm, playful, and entirely too pleased whenever she managed to get Serena into trouble. The two had become friendly through Talia, and Serena had always liked her, even if the Cross family gatherings occasionally tested the limits of that affection. "So," Olivia began, looking far too innocent, "what exactly happened between you and Damian before tonight?" "Nothing." "Serena." "He made an unnecessary comment about me at Talia's birthday dinner. I responded. He got offended because I didn't bow down and apologise for having an opinion. End of story." "Damian doesn't get offended." "Of course not. He just develops that expression that makes it look like he's mentally calculating how much it would cost to have someone removed from the country." Olivia burst out laughing, attracting a curious glance from a nearby guest. "You really don't like him." "I would rather spend an entire weekend listening to my aunt explain why I should have studied medicine than spend ten minutes alone with that man." "That's a very specific level of hatred." "I've had time to develop it." Olivia was still laughing when someone called her from the other side of the garden. Before leaving, she gave Serena a quick hug and reminded her not to disappear before the birthday cake was cut. Serena promised nothing. She was beginning to suspect that escaping the Cross residence would require a carefully planned operation. Her phone vibrated just as she reached for another piece of cake. Talia had sent her a message asking where she had disappeared to, followed by three laughing emojis and a photograph of Serena climbing out of Damian's car. Serena stared at the picture in disbelief. She immediately called her friend. "Delete that." "No." "Talia, I'm serious." "So am I. This is the funniest thing you've done all year." "I was being chased!" "You knocked drinks onto a man because he insulted your shoes." "He said they looked like something his housekeeper would wear!" There was a pause on the other end, followed by a loud laugh. Serena pinched the bridge of her nose. "You are not a serious person." "And you love me anyway. Now stop hiding near the food table and come meet Marcus properly. He's been asking about you." Serena glanced across the garden. Marcus was standing near the swimming pool, talking to two men she vaguely recognised. When he noticed her looking, he lifted his glass in greeting. She smiled and waved back. At least one person at this party was pleasant. She made her way towards him, and within minutes they were talking about the beach trip he had mentioned earlier. Marcus had recently started working with a travel company and had become determined to organise a weekend getaway for their group of friends. He had already found a beach house, worked out the transport, and created a group chat that Serena had muted within five minutes of joining. "You haven't even looked at the pictures I sent," he complained. "I looked at the first one." "There were twelve." "The first picture was enough to establish that there was sand. I understand the concept of a beach." Marcus laughed. "You're impossible." "And yet you keep inviting me places." "Because you make everything more interesting." Serena was about to reply when a familiar voice interrupted them. "Marcus. I didn't realise you knew Serena." She turned and found Damian standing beside them, holding a glass of water. His expression was composed, but something about the way he looked at Marcus made Serena immediately suspicious. Marcus, however, appeared delighted. "Damian Cross. It's been a while." They shook hands. Serena watched the exchange with growing irritation. Apparently, the universe had decided that she wasn't allowed to enjoy even one conversation without Damian making an appearance. "How do you two know each other?" Marcus asked. "Unfortunately," Serena said, "we keep meeting." Damian took a sip of water. "She has a habit of appearing where she's not expected." "And you have a habit of behaving as though every place belongs to you." "Some places do." "How convenient." Marcus looked between them, clearly entertained. "Have I missed something?" "Nothing important," Damian answered. "Several things," Serena corrected. "Most of them involving his ego." Marcus laughed, and Serena felt a small, unreasonable satisfaction at having someone appreciate her humour in Damian's presence. Damian's gaze moved briefly towards her before he looked away. "Well," Marcus said, "I'm trying to convince Serena to join us for a weekend at the beach. You should come too." "No, thank you," Damian replied immediately. Serena smiled. "For once, we agree on something." "Wonderful," Marcus said. "I'll put you both down." "Marcus!" they protested together. He grinned. "You two are going to make this trip very entertaining." "There will be no trip if you put my name on that list," Damian warned. "And there will be no trip if you put mine on it," Serena added. Marcus pulled out his phone. "Noted. You're both coming." Serena stared at him, appalled. Damian looked as though he was considering whether friendship was worth the trouble. For the first time that evening, Serena forgot to be angry. She was too busy laughing at the absurdity of it all. Then Damian looked at her. "What?" "Nothing," he said, his expression returning to its usual coolness. "I'm just wondering how you manage to turn every simple situation into a problem." She stopped laughing. "And I'm wondering how you manage to turn every simple conversation into an opportunity to insult someone." His face hardened slightly. "Not everyone is interested in entertaining you, Serena." "Good. Because I'm not interested in entertaining you either." She turned back to Marcus, determined to enjoy the rest of her evening without giving Damian another thought. Unfortunately, Marcus was still grinning at his phone. "What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously. "Creating the group chat." "Don't you dare." Too late. A notification appeared on her screen. BEACH WEEKEND - NO EXCUSES. Serena stared at it, then slowly lifted her eyes towards Damian. He was looking at his own phone with the same expression of disbelief. For a brief moment, they shared a mutual understanding. They were going to kill Marcus. And judging by the message that appeared beneath the group name a second later-Damian Cross and Serena Vale, you two are officially in charge of keeping everyone entertained-their friend had absolutely no intention of making it easy.

By the time Serena got home, the beach-weekend group chat was already arguing about food and whether Damian Cross should be allowed to choose the playlist. Serena voted no twice. At 11:48 p.m., Damian finally sent a message. Damian: I will not be attending this trip. Marcus: Great. See you Friday. Damian: That was not an agreement. Serena: Don't worry, Damian. Nobody will miss you. She set her phone down and went to wash off her makeup. A new message was waiting when she returned. Damian: I wasn't speaking to you. Serena: And yet you replied to me. Growth is a beautiful thing. Talia called immediately. Serena answered with the phone wedged between her cheek and shoulder while she searched for her favourite oversized T-shirt. "You are enjoying this too much," Talia said. "I'm enjoying the fact that he can't fire me from a beach trip." "He could probably buy the beach." "Then I'll bring a bucket and build my own." Talia laughed. "You know, I think you two are going to be the reason this weekend is memorable." "Then I hope you enjoy memorable, because I'm not changing my plans just because Mr. Expensive Watch is attending." "Good. Because Marcus has already booked the house." Serena stopped rummaging through her drawer. "He has what?" "Booked it. Paid the deposit. Sent the confirmation. Apparently, he has been planning this for weeks." "Why didn't he say so?" "He did. You muted the group chat." Serena stared at the phone. "That is not the point." "It's a little bit the point." After the call, Serena opened the chat again. Marcus had posted pictures of the beach house, complete with a wide terrace and a pool overlooking the ocean. It looked beautiful, which was deeply inconvenient. Serena had been looking forward to a weekend away after a long month of helping her mother with household expenses and wondering whether she could afford a short course in event styling. She wanted the trip. She wanted the ocean, the music, the late-night conversations, and two days where nobody asked her to calculate the cost of anything. She did not want Damian Cross. Unfortunately, the universe had never been particularly interested in her preferences. The next afternoon, Serena met Talia at a café to plan for the trip. Talia arrived twenty minutes late carrying two iced coffees and oversized sunglasses. "You're late," Serena said. "I had to change." "You live twelve minutes away." "I changed twice." "Your struggles inspire me." Talia slid a coffee across the table. "You're welcome." They discussed swimsuits, snacks, and whether Marcus would remember the portable speaker he had promised. Serena had just found a pair of sandals online when Talia looked over her shoulder and smiled. "No," Serena said without turning around. "I haven't said anything." "You have a particular smile when trouble is nearby." "Maybe trouble is handsome." Serena turned. Damian stood at the café counter, speaking to the barista. Beside him was Victoria, immaculate as ever, holding a small shopping bag and listening to him with the easy familiarity of someone who had known him for years. When Damian glanced towards their table, his expression shifted into immediate displeasure. Serena raised her coffee in greeting. He looked away. "Oh, that was satisfying," she murmured. "Are you going to behave?" Talia asked. "Absolutely." "Serena." "I will behave in a way that feels authentic to me." Damian approached their table. Victoria remained by the counter, checking her phone. "Marcus says you haven't confirmed what you're bringing," Damian said. Serena blinked. "Hello to you too." "Hello. What are you bringing?" "An excellent personality. Since the group appears to be short on those." "Then we may have to pack something else." Talia covered her mouth with her hand. Serena leaned back in her chair, unimpressed. "Do you practise being irritating, or does it come naturally?" "I'm asking a practical question." "Then ask Marcus. He's the one organising the trip." "He asked me to make sure everyone has the essentials." Serena looked him up and down. "And you volunteered? How touching. I didn't know you cared about people." Damian's expression remained flat. "I care about not spending a weekend without basic supplies." "Then bring your own supplies." Damian exhaled through his nose, as if patience were a limited resource and Serena had personally spent most of it. "Are you always this difficult?" "Only with men who think giving instructions is a personality trait." For a second, neither spoke. Talia looked delighted. Then Damian glanced at the shopping page still open on Serena's phone. "Those sandals won't survive the beach." Serena immediately turned the screen away. "I didn't ask for your opinion." "You'll thank me when they break." "I would rather walk barefoot over hot coals than thank you for anything." "Good. Bring shoes that can handle sand." He turned and walked back to Victoria before Serena could come up with a suitably devastating response. Talia waited until he was out of earshot. "You know, for someone who hates him, you two have a lot to say to each other." "Because he keeps speaking to me." "And you keep answering." Serena picked up her coffee and took a long sip. "I hope the ocean swallows him." "That's not very nice." "Neither is he." Her phone buzzed. Marcus had sent a message to the group chat. Marcus: Quick update: Damian is bringing the supplies. Serena is in charge of games. Serena stared at the screen in horror. Across the café, Damian looked down at his own phone. He read the message, lifted his eyes towards her, and gave her a small, infuriating smile. For the first time since the group chat had been created, Serena and Damian agreed on one thing without saying a word. Marcus was going to regret this.