Chapter 5
Simone
Ididn’t really have a clue what to wear to go bowling with my team. Technically my employees. They’d all seemed happy at the fact I was going with them, making jokes about how I’d be taking Kuba’s place as loser. There had been more jokes in general – I’d figured Jack had said something to everyone that had made them think I didn’t actually have a stick up my arse.
“Jeans are fine, you know. If you own any.” Sophie sat on my bed, surrounded by the outfits I’d thought about and discarded. “It’s bowling. And you want to show that butt off at its best to your hot chef.”
“I’m not interested in my employee.” Even if I couldn’t take my eyes of his arms whenever they were on show. “He’s too laid back, a single dad and he works for me.”
“I don’t see why you have a problem with any of those things. Laid back might be good for you given that you run at ninety-seven miles an hour constantly; single dads are hot and working for you means you call the shots. That’s never a bad thing.” She pulled up a pair of panties that were definitely due to go in the bin. “Really?”
“It’s been a long time. I have no one else to consider in my underwear choices.”
“Simone, these would even cause your vibrator to go soft.” She dropped them and unwrinkled her nose. “So if you’re not interested in your hot chef, do you mind if I take him out for a bite to eat.”
I had absolutely no doubt about what she meant in terms of a bite to eat. It had nothing to do with food.
I also had absolutely no doubt that I did mind.
“Go ahead. Just help me find something to wear.”
“Liar. But you should wear this. With those skinny jeans.” She threw a little top at me that was short enough to expose my stomach. My very pale stomach because even though I had been abroad fairly recently, I hadn’t seen any sun.
“No. I’ll look like I’m trying to be younger than I am.”
“Then let’s go for a nice long skirt that hides your ankles and a high necked top so no one can see any flesh. And how about a pair of gloves…”
“Fuck off, Sophie.” I picked up the jeans and pulled them on, shaking my ass with the skinny jean dance, then tucking away the pretty much non-existent pinch of extra skin. I’d lost weight since I last wore these.
“When you have burger and chips tonight, make sure you eat them, otherwise there won’t be any backside to fit in those jeans.” She stood up and came over to me, grabbing a brush. “You need to spend a day at my spa. Have an afternoon tea. Be pampered. Forget about work.”
“It’s hard to do when you’re about to open another restaurant.”
“I get that. I’ve got eight spas across London and I’m about to open one in Dubai and one in New York. I’m starting my own body moisturiser brand and my ex-husband is getting remarried for the fourth time and his bride to bereallyhates me. But you know what, I pay people to do things. That’s what you need to do. Then you can start to enjoy a little of the life you’ve made for yourself.”
“I’m not sure how.”
“Sit down.” She pushed me into a chair and began to brush through my hair with more care that I thought Sophie was capable. She was the most successful business woman I knew. She’d been married more times that I had and she and Vanessa were the only people who really knew what had happened with my marriages. “You give yourself a break and have the intelligence to realise that what you’ve built with your restaurants isn’t going to collapse if you take a few steps away. And you know what, sometimes a bit of distance makes you realise what else you can actually do. You’ve got a good team of people: trust them and let them flourish. That’s part of being a good boss and a good leader.”
“Do you always give speeches while doing your clients’ hair?”
“Only the special ones. Now tell me why you’ve cancelled my meal next week.”
Sophie was one of the reservations I’d had to rearrange. She was too aware of London royalty and the probable reasons why. She was also a vault.
“Big rock music person wanted to book it out for a function. Turns out, the building was his former children’s home.”
“Leif Rosso? Well I never.”
“Come again?” Sophie knew most people. She’d probably waxed most people, if not slept with them or at least someone they knew.
“He was in the care system.”
“You know him.”
“Knowofhim. I slept with his bassist once. Crap shag by the way. Wasn’t worth the condom.”
And there you had it. “How many men have you slept with?”
