He offers a slight shrug. “I’ll fight it as long as I can, lass. But if it’s not meant to be…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to.
I place my coffee on the counter, delicately covering his hand with mine. I can feel him tremor. “You’ll be okay,” I say, squeezing a little tighter.
“Enough of that,” he says, releasing his grip. “How’d that date go then, lass?” Lance changes the subject.
I shake my head. “Disastrous.”
His face splits in a grin. “You don’t have much luck with the fellas, do you?”
I take a tentative sip of my coffee. “Oh, I getluckyplenty, but no, when it comes to finding someone who isn’t a complete tosser? My track record is spectacularly shit.”
He points a finger at me, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t you give up hope yet, lass. There’s a good man out there somewhere for you.”
I scoff. “I’m not looking for a relationship, Lance. I just need someone to shag—someone who can keep up with me. They’re either intimidated by me or completely selfish.”
He laughs. “Aye, you need someone with a backbone. You deserve someone who appreciates that fire in you, not someone trying to put it out.”
I raise my coffee in cheers. “See?” I nod. “You get it.”
He plants his palms on the counter. “Aye. My Everly was just like you back in the day. See, when we were young, we had the sexual appetite of a—”
I nearly choke on my coffee. “Christ, Lance! Too much information!” I hold up my hand to stop him. “Right, that’s my cue to exit before you scar me for life. Bye!”
“Aye, but I was just getting to the good bit!” he calls after me, chuckling to himself.
The revolving door opens into the lobby where blasts of heat wrap around me, thawing my cheeks. My heels click against the polished tile floors as I head toward the lift, sipping my latte.
“Morning, Gemma!” Tab, our receptionist, greets me with a bright smile and wave from behind the desk.
“Morning, Tab.” I beam.
I’ve been at Prestige Partners for nine years, starting as a fresh-faced creative intern straight out of London College of Communication. Henry Matthews, our chief creative officer, saw potential after viewing my grad portfolio and took me under his wing. Henry and I make a great team. What started as small talk and stiff work conversations quickly turned into after-work vinos and the occasional Sunday brunch.
Henry’s become a real friend, not just a colleague. Miraculously, he’s the first gorgeous man I’ve maintained a purely professional relationship with—though I suspect his boyfriend might have something to do with that.
I’ve never been one to shy away from sexual adventure, especially after my last long-term relationship. I made it my mission to experience everything I missed out on while being tied down to Todd.
The thought of two gorgeous men and me, focused entirely on joint pleasure, isveryappealing, but I’d bet good money that if I ever had a crack, I’d be up shit creek without a paddle, and I value my position here far too much to jeopardize it.
I didn’t claw my way from junior intern to associate creative director to throw it away now. I might play around outside these four walls, but at work, I’m strategic about everything.
It wasn’t all glamour at the beginning. I started off managing social media content for smaller boutique hotels and crafting email campaigns for luxury hotel spas. I spent countless late nights tweaking presentations to ensure my pitch was the best, and it paid off. Now, at thirty-four, I’m the youngest creative director in the agency’s history, leading our biggest luxury hospitality accounts. Today, Henry and I are gearing up to pitch our campaign for what’s set to be London’s most talked-about hotel in decades.
Ping.
A notification chimes.
Balancing my pastry and coffee in one hand, I bite down on the finger of my glove, tugging it off before pulling my phone from my pocket.
Declan:You busy tonight?
“Ugh,” I groan, rolling my eyes as soon as I see the name.
Declan was last night’s mistake, courtesy of KinkApp. I used to use the mainstream dating apps but deleted them when I realized most of the men on there are painfully vanilla and actively looking for marriage and babies—sonot my vibe.
I matched with Declan last week, drawn in by his silver-fox looks and the promise of experience. Sure, he might be forty-three, but I’ve always had a thing for an age gap. I thought,What could go wrong?
Well, it turns out plenty can go wrong.
