The hopeful implication is heavy, and I roll my eyes even as Phil grins. “My partner and I are spending it with friends,” he says, and from the way Penny hesitates, she’s not sure if he means romantic partner or something else, and she’s too polite to ask. He winks at me, and I know he did it on purpose. I wonder how he feels about being rewarded with kisses.
Penny finally says something noncommittal about that sounding nice, then wishes us goodnight and hangs up. I toss my phone back onto the table, sweep Phil into my arms, and kiss him soundly.
“Mmm,” he murmurs when I finally pull back. “Not that I’m complaining, but what brought that on?”
“Helping me get one up on my sister. It doesn’t happen often.”
He chuckles. “Happy to be of service. She sounds great, by the way. You’re lucky to have a sister like that.”
There’s a note of something in his voice that makes me pretty sure any siblings he has aren’t as supportive as Penny, and I mentally add them to the list of potential enemies I might need to vanquish if he one day asks.
“Super lucky,” I agree. “There was a rocky patch while she was with her ex, who was the biggest indictment of humanity as a species that’s ever been born, but thankfully he’s out of the picture now and we have things fully back on track.”
He pulls a face. “Ugh, maintaining relationships when the people you love have shitty taste in partnerssucks. Calla oncedated this woman who I swear to god seemed to hate her. I couldn’t work out why the hell they were together.”
My brows draw together. “That must have been hard for you.”
“Meh.” He shrugs. “Frustrating, more than anything. I hated seeing her with someone who didn’t get how awesome she is. I think it damaged her confidence too. She hasn’t really designed much herself since then.”
That reminds me. “On the subject of work…”
He smiles understandingly at me. “Griff, I would never pressure you to bring clients to us.”
My brows shoot up. “I never thought you would.” Hell, I had to talk him into showing Daria the jeans. He has too much integrity to use me that way. “But if we’re going to date, I need to disclose that to Damian. Is that okay with you, or would you prefer that I wait?” I try not to make it obvious that I’m holding my breath. If he says to wait, does that mean he’s not sure if?—
“That’s fine with me. Do you want me to come with you? Or I could call Damian….” He frowns, thinking about the implications. “Maybe I should wait for him to call me.”
“That’s probably best. He won’t be mad, but he might ask for oversight of any commissions I bring to you for a while.” That’s what he’s done in the past in similar situations, just so nobody can make any accusations later on.
Phil doesn’t look thrilled by the idea that being with me means I might be supervised more closely at work, but he nods. “It’s your job, so whatever you think is necessary, I’m on board with. Now…” He grabs my hand and begins drawing me toward the living room. “That couch of yours looked very comfy.”
“What’s with you this morning?”Adam demands, appearing beside me so suddenly, I almost spill my coffee. He leans against my desk and glares at me.
“What do you mean?” I carefully set my cup down. Aside from the fact that wasting coffee would ruin my entire day, the last thing I want is to spill it on my Philipp Plein jeans and then walk into a meeting with Damian.
“What do you mean, what do I mean? I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and you didn’t even notice!”
Has he? Oops. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
It’s too late to redirect him, though—he’s caught the scent. “Don’t worry about it. What’s got you so distracted?”
“Nothing.”
He gives me a disbelieving look, but I don’t feel the need to say anything else. That doesn’t stop him, though… he just changes tack.
“You’ve been staring at Damian’s door all morning…,” he muses. “Either you’re secretly in love with him, you’ve fucked up bad, or you’ve got a lead on a superhot client. Please tell me it’s the first one.”
I stare at him, deadpan. He stares back hopefully. We’re into minute three of that when the sound of Damian’s door opening has me swiveling to look. Sure enough, Sharon is finally leaving his office after what had to be an hours-long meeting.
“Definitely love,” Adam declares, but I don’t bother to reply. I’m already walking away. Besides, he’s not entirely wrong—it’s just not Damian I might be falling in love with. Or at least, that’s what I’d say if it wasn’t too early to tell.
I rap on the doorframe and then hover as Damian looks up. “Griff, hey, come in. Hope you’ve got something fun for me.”
Great. I step inside and close the door, and when I turn back to face him, his gaze is on it. We don’t usually close the door.
“Like that, is it? You’re not leaving, are you?”
I scoff, and he smiles in relief. Why would I leave? I get that most stylists at my level run their own businesses, but that brings a whole lot of non-fashion stuff, like Damian’s accounting meeting this morning. I get plenty of autonomy here, I have colleagues to consult with when I’m stuck, and someone else handles the bulk of the admin. Maybe I’ll change my mind in a decade or so, but for now, I’m all good.
