* * *
Thankfully the girls are understanding.I had to send them home after the soup disaster, so I promised to work an extra day to cover their class fee to keep them happy.
I did my research, and if my Google Maps is correct, I should be at Ellis and Frey Real Estate within twenty minutes by foot.
I glance down at my feet, knowing it will take me twice as long in my heels, and instead, I call Vinny.
“Miss Anderson, I wasn’t expecting you to call. How can I help you?”
“Hey! I need a lift. If you are free, of course. And I can’t tell you any more than that because I don’t trust you.”
“Well, I should inform you that I sided with you this afternoon. I drove Mason to the studio,” he says, and I can tell he is smiling.
“What a queen, huh?”
He chuckles down the line. “What are you planning, Nina?”
“I’m on my way to his office... I was hoping for a ride.”
“That’s not a good idea, Nin—”
“Vinny, you can drive me, save my feet, and I will love the hell out of you for it, or you can let your boss know I’m on my way and ruin the element of surprise. Either way, I am going with or without you. I won’t cause a scene, I promise.”
“Just wait there. I will be five minutes.” he relents.
13
Nina
The Montwell buildingsits proudly among the skyscrapers in London’s financial district; its impressive structure flouting high up in the clouds. I watch in awe as people breeze through the revolving doors, going about their business almost robotically.
Why so serious?
“Here, you will need this,” Vinny interrupts my trance, handing me a plastic card. “Tell reception I sent you, you won’t be on any list. I can’t promise they won’t call up.”
I squeeze his shoulder, giving him a warm smile. “Thanks, Vinny. You don’t want to come up with me, some moral support?”
He shakes his head. “I did my bit. You’re on your own now, love.”
I roll my eyes. “Stay close by, I might need a lift in five.”
He turns in his seat, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You said you wouldn’t cause a scene.”
“You said you were taking us to The Pearl,” I throw back at him with a shrug.
“Touché.”
My confidence takes a nosedive the moment I step into The Montwell. I look down at myself, pulling at my crop top to hide the slither of exposed skin at my ribs. Determined to follow through with my vaguely thought-out plan, I pull back my shoulders and carry on forward, my heels clicking on the sparkling floor seemingly much louder than the other women’s in the foyer.
Eight large pillars line the long walkway, leading to a bank of elevators, where security guards stand on each door with scanners in their hands. I take a deep breath and make my way to the large desk that sits in the centre of the room.
“Hello, can I help you?” a kind-looking woman asks.
“Yes, hi. I’m here to see Mas—Mr Lowell,” I correct. “I have this.” I hand over the lanyard. “Vinny sent me.”
She smiles, taking the card. “Of course. Can you just sign in here, and I will call up?”
“No,” I panic, and her hand freezes on the phone. “Uh, I was hoping to surprise him. I’m his girlfriend.”
