The Billionaire from Her Past by Leah Ashton Page A

rice stuck in his throat. ‘I guess,’ he said, really not wanting to have this conversation with Mila.
    â€˜She was pretty. Do you want to go talk to her? I won’t mind.’
    â€˜What?’
    Mila shrugged, waving a piece of chorizo on the end of her fork. ‘Go on. Don’t let me stop you.’
    She was still wearing her sunglasses, so it was impossible to read her expression.
    â€˜Don’t you remember what I said? About how I’m terrible at relationships?’
    â€˜That was just to make me feel—’ But she didn’t finish the sentence, instead taking off her sunglasses and meeting his gaze. ‘ That wasn’t a relationship. That was a woman angling to ask you out. You could do that.’
    â€˜No,’ he said, unequivocally. ‘I could not.’
    â€˜Why not?’
    Mila was focused on her paella now, chasing pieces of meat and vegetables about in the rice. She sounded completely relaxed.
    Seb had lost his appetite.
    â€˜I wasn’t a very good husband, Mila. I don’t want to put someone else through that again.’
    â€˜That doesn’t mean you can’t date again. Have some fun.’
    He honestly hadn’t really thought about it. In London, his one-night stands had left him empty. And now, back in Perth, there was Mila...
    No . He simply wasn’t ready.
    He said so.
    â€˜I get that,’ Mila said. ‘That’s understandable. I just wanted to make sure your decision wasn’t anything to do with me.’
    She met his gaze now, absolutely direct. It was almost as if she was daring him to agree. Or disagree. Seb had no idea.
    â€˜It isn’t,’ Seb said.
    â€˜Good,’ she said, looking out to the ocean. ‘You know, I kind of get it... After what happened with Ben I didn’t think I ever wanted to do that again.’ A pause. ‘ Ever .’ She finished her paella. ‘But, you know, that is pretty unrealistic. I’ve been to both my sisters’ weddings over the past couple of years. I know I want that too. To be in love like that. To be loved like that. I think the trick will be to work out a way to protect myself.’
    â€˜From what?’ he said.
    â€˜You know...’ she said, with half a smile. ‘The messy bits that hurt. Like your ex-fiancé hooking up with a girl from work. They’re engaged now.’
    â€˜Ouch,’ Seb said.
    â€˜Yup.’ A grin. ‘But that’s okay. I think I fought too long for that relationship to work. The signs were there. Kind of like my dad, in a way. I let hope drive my delusions...illusions...whatever. I won’t do that again.’
    â€˜So how will you do it? How will you protect yourself?’
    Mila shook her head. ‘I’m working on it,’ she said.
    They were both quiet for a while. Two little girls with fairies painted on their cheeks came running past them, squealing and waving sequined wands.
    â€˜Can you hurry up and finish your dinner, Seb?’ Mila said suddenly—and brightly. ‘Because we have to try these cupcakes. One is triple choc and salted caramel. How is that even possible ?’

CHAPTER EIGHT
    S EB WAS ON the phone when Mila walked into his shop on Tuesday.
    He stood at the back, a shoulder propped against the bare brick wall. The new first floor was in, although the rafters were still exposed. Mila could hear the activity of tradesmen upstairs: the murmur of conversation punctuated by the occasional whir of a drill.
    Aaron, one of the labourers, was sweeping up a pile of rubble and sawdust near the shop window. He smiled a greeting. He was young and tall, with his red-blond hair arranged in a man bun and a cheeky glint to his eye.
    They’d spoken once before, when Mila had asked if she could retrieve some old coloured glass bottles from the skip. She’d thought maybe she could use the glass in some of her pieces. Or just use them as skinny vases. She wasn’t