“How long’s that going to take?”
She glared at me.
“I want to take you out. Properly. To a nice restaurant and a cool bar…”
“Is this to make sure the right image gets into the media? Because we’ve done a good job of that. Two newspapers ran stories about us yesterday.”
“No. It’s got fuck all to do with the media. I actually want to take you out. As in not end up rowing and sleeping together.”
“We didn’t do that last time. There was no rowing involved.”
“So what’s your answer?”
She looked at her nails.
I felt one of her sharp heels dig me in the heart and started to push myself away from the table.
“Yes.”
I stopped. Looked at her. “Yes?”
“Yes. You can take me on a date. But it had better be the best date ever. I want flowers and a suit and the best tables.” She grinned. “And a limo.”
“Seriously?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t be so fucking stupid. A burger and a trip to the cinema suits me. But if you can give me the heads up if it is that, I can sort out what I’m wearing.”
Breathing had just become viable again.
“Did you really think I was going to say no?”
I raised my eyebrows. Took in oxygen. “No, Sophie, I was expecting you to declare world peace.”
She squinted. “Liam, I’m still getting married to you, despite you being an arrogant dick who’s crap in bed…”
At that point I interrupted by laughing.
“Now I know you’re joking.”
“Nah, you’re the worst shag I’ve ever had.” She smiled sweetly. “No idea what an orgasm is…”
I stepped round to her side of the table, took hold of her face in my hands and bent down to kiss her.
Sophie’s grasp went to my waist, holding on, as I exploded her world in public. As much as I was wary of how she might think of me – just a way to get the building she wanted – I knew she could have no complaints about how I’d made her feel in bed.
“Want to take that somewhere private and you can show me what an orgasm is?” I said as I ended the kiss.
“Point made. Yes to date. When?”
“Tonight? If you survive after meeting Wes.”
* * *
Wes was already there and waiting when we got back with a box of pastries for him. I knew full well he’d eat them in one go and then swear to his wife he hadn’t. Wes hadn’t changed since the first day I’d met him.
He sat with Roisin playing cards, seemingly teaching her the rules of poker. How someone her age who’d even worked in this industry for more than two weeks didn’t understand poker was baffling, but what was more interesting was how patient he was being with her.
Wes had kids. Four of them. All girls and he swore the reason he had an eating problem and an empty wallet was purely down to them. His wife said it was an excuse.
