The computer screen dings with a new message from Bancroft:
EB: When are you free for a run down?
My stomach starts to roil. The last time we were alone together itreallydidn’t end well. I pull out the magazine Yemi shoved in my bag last night and flipthrough until I reach the familiar face, homing in on a small box in the corner of the article:
THREE THINGS TO KNOW ABOUT ERIC BANCROFT
He is the son of architectural magnate and notorious party boy, Malon Bancroft, and it seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the multi-million-pound tree...
Eric began his university studies in Architectural Design and Technology but switched to Marketing and Advertising in his second year—rumor has it, much to his parents’ chagrin!
Rumored to be currently dating Margaux Bardin, French heiress and founder of fabulous sunglasses brand Chaleur Lunettes. The pair were first spotted cozying up at the exclusive Matilda’s Bar in February over vodka martinis with a twist: his drink of choice.
He is lending his social expertise to the dating app Ignite. Downloads hit an all-time high on the day of his appointment as Marketing Manager at the Catch Group Inc.–owned company. Not bad for a man who’s never single for more than a week!
Most of this information isn’t new to me, even if it seemed as if our former friendship existed at arm’s length. I felt that gravitational pull he carries with himwherever he goes when we first met. I’m drawn into the memory of our initial encounter. I can still hear how Jessica, Catch Group’s Head of HR, called to me across the lobby, her shiny black hair bouncing as her heels tapped toward us.
“I want you to meet Eric Bancroft, the new Marketing Manager at Ignite.” She had presented him like a shiny new trophy. “Eric, this is Grace Hastings.”
I’d seen pictures of him before but in person he was stunning. As though Hugh Grant and Jude Law had had a lovechild who was raised by an impeccable stylist.
“Hello, Grace Hastings,” he drawled in a whisky-smooth tone. The emphasis on my first name sent a prickly heat through me.
“Hi!” I said, louder than intended, my cheeks flaming as I saw a dimple appear on his left cheek.
“Hi,” he repeated at a far more reasonable volume. “Would you be up for a one-on-one once I’ve settled in? It would be nice to understand the job a bit more.”
A polite smile appeared across his lips and I swear his ocean-blue eyes literally twinkled in the fluorescent office ceiling lights.
“Sounds grud,” I responded breathlessly.
There was a beat, and then his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. I stood there, clutching my laptop like a life raft as we drifted into an awkward silence. My whole body turned loose as he looked me up and down, as though trying to weigh my character: a predatorsizing up whether I would be classified as friend, foe or prey.
“Sorry, my brain couldn’t decide between good and great so I ended up with ‘grud,’” I explained limply, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow me whole.
I still remember the moment his smile curved into a smirk.
Jessica finally saved me from further embarrassment and, helpfully, reminded me that I was on my way to get lunch with Yemi.
“And this is Olayemi Musa, Head of Analytics at Fate.”
“Call me Yemi.” She smiled, stretching a hand out to shake his.
“Hi, Yemi,” Eric replied. “I’d love to book a one-on-one with you as well if you’d be up for it.”
“Sure,” she replied like a normal functioning human.
I don’t think my brain even registered the brief conversation after that; Yemi continued to be her fabulously competent self as I silently nodded along, lips pulled tight in a line.
Finally, he smiled. “Well, it wasgrudto meet you both.”
Before either Yemi or I could say another word they both strode off toward the row of elevators, Jessica’s shoes echoing around the lobby.
Yemi’s voice jerks me out of my involuntary trip down memory lane.
“Are you OK?”
“Yeah!” I reply a little too quickly and enthusiastically, pushing myself off the desk.
