‘You haven’t seen my room.’
‘And I don’t want to. It’ll be pokey.’
I laugh again.I’ve missed his crazy.‘Right. I have to go to work. I have some discussions to have with my client that I’m pretty sure he’s not going to like.’ I plant a chaste kiss on Gregory’s brow and make for the door.
‘Hold up, firefly. You might need this.’ He dangles a key card to his room in front of my face. As I reach for it, he pulls it away and drops a kiss on the tip of my nose. ‘What time should I expect you?’
‘Eight-ish maybe.’
‘We’ll have dinner together here.’
With a sigh, I grab the key card. ‘That’s not a question.’
‘It wasn’t intended to be.’
‘You’re not forgiven!’ I call back across my shoulder as I walk away.
7
My day started with a call about Mr Ghurair’s latest deal. I was supported by Amar – Mr Ghurair’s cousin and closest confidante – as we discussed the financials of the acquisition with the seller’s lawyers. After that, I set to work on the next turn of the asset purchase agreement.
No matter how hard I tried to focus on drafting amendments to the document, I couldn’t stop thinking about my sore lips, the lingering satisfaction between my legs and the tenderness of my breasts. My morning was consequently protracted but it was a damn sight better than my afternoon spent regretting convincing Mr Ghurair that my completing the second deal remotely could have cost benefits. Now I get to piss off Neil Wallaceandwork my arse off.
I’m thankful for the end of the day and even more thankful that tonight, I won’t be eating alone. I won’t be nursing a cocktail because I have nothing better to do.
Tonight, I’m heading back to Gregory.
I reapply my red lipstick, ruffle my hair and straighten my fitted dress in the hotel lift.
When I open the door to the penthouse, I’m welcomed by dim, flickering lights. There must be hundreds of votive candles decorating the suite. Two parallel rows lead from the door and I follow them through the lounge, passed the master bedroom and into the en suite. More candles decorate the corners of the bathtub and line the marble sink unit. Vanilla fills my nose, warm and sweet.
‘Good evening, Miss Heath.’
His words come from behind me, his breath on my neck. He moves my hair down one shoulder and I lean my head to expose the skin of my throat.
‘Are you coming home with me?’ he asks through sensual kisses.
‘In three weeks.’
I feel his lips curve against my neck.
‘But I’ll never make partner. Neil hates me.’
‘He’ll come round. If I was your boss, I’d come round.’
I turn to face him, pressing my chest against his crisp white shirt, raking my fingers through his thick, dark hair. ‘You might be a little biased.’
I feel his smile against mine.
‘There’s also a catch.’
He pulls back from me but keeps his hands on the small of my back, gluing our waists together. ‘Share.’
‘I told Neil that a big client of mine needs my help in London.’
‘The CEO of your big client being…’
I dab a finger against his firm pec. ‘Exhibit A. And you owe me.’
