His eyes met mine. “Then let’s get outta here.”
Chapter Seventeen
“So, the whole office is on fire about you dating Ralf,” Michelle giggled, shoving her phone in her pocket. She’d snagged me to go for a quick coffee, saying she wanted to mark the end of my first week at RJF and so we sat on the balcony, taking in the morning air. Elliot had yet to arrive, but I was relieved to have a slow start. I was exhausted. Writing with Elliot this week had been such a rollercoaster – long days and late finishes. To make matters worse, my drink with Ralf was tonight. I had wondered whether I should cancel so I could rest, but it felt harsh. He’d been so warm to me all week; it was entirely possible he was the reason almost every other employee had started to acknowledge my existence. Even Sadie had permitted me a frosty smile when I’d said goodnight to her yesterday.
“It’s not a date.” My cheeks heated at the thought of the RJF employees gossiping about me.
“Uh-huh, that’s why you’re blushing like a tomato,” Michelle cracked.
“It’s not a date,” I said again. But her jokes had me considering why I’d agreed to go out with Ralf. Was it really because I thought we’d have fun as friends? Or did it have alittle something to do with the fact I was very sure it would piss Elliot off?
“Okay, fine. And it’s not the whole office that’s on fire,” Michelle added. “Just me and Riley. No one else cares.”
“Ugh.” I covered my eyes. “He’s welcoming me to New York, that’s all.”
“Out of the goodness of his heart?” Michelle pulled a face. “Sure.”
“You sound just like Elliot,” I said defensively.
“Sorry.” Michelle yawned. “I’m coordinating theAll Kinds of Killingjunket press day and it’s killing me. Sol Rodrigues’s team have so many demands and stipulations, it’s just so much work.”
“I bet.” I sympathized. Junket pressers were intense days of back-to-back interviews between talent and key press outlets. I had some experience of what they could be like due to that time I’d had to chauffeur one of our directors to one because his horoscope had told him not to operate machinery and this had included holding microphones. “What’s Sol Rodrigues like?”
“She’s a doll but her team are nuts,” Michelle said. “If I told you what her manicurist alone charges … man, you’d be running off to cosmetology school, like, now.”
“Sol’s amazing,” I said. “I think I watched her last movie about five times and each time there was something new about her performance to appreciate.”
“The Lanthimos?” Michelle asked. “Yeah, just incredible. Don’t get me wrong, it is awesome to have her in RJ’s project but, damn, if her schedule isn’t driving me crazy.”
“Lucie?”
I whipped my head around. Elliot stood at the balcony doors, his hair damp and swept back off his head. “Oh, hi.”
“You ready?” Without waiting for an answer, he darted back inside.
“Guess that’s my cue.” I sighed.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said as we took our seats in the writers’ room. He wheeled his chair round to my side of the table so he could tap in the password to the server, and I found myself oddly fixated on his hands as they worked the keyboard. Despite some redness across the knuckles, they were compelling. Maybe it was because it had been several weeks since I’d been with a man but for some insane reason the sight of his large and capable hands confidently moving across my laptop was sexy. I had to shove my own hands under my thighs so I didn’t reach out and grab one of his to see if the skin was as soft as I hoped.
“Seriously?” I said. “You won’t give me the password even now?”
“What can I say, I feel the need to play it safe,” he muttered as he typed. “You’re in,” he said eventually.
“Thanks.” Flustered at my strange reaction to his hands, I lowered my head and got to work.
“You have a date? Already?” Bex sounded congested, tired.
“No. Yes.” I was walking down Tenth to the Meatpacking District, where I was to meet Ralf. “No! It’s just a friend thing.”
“Oh, so it’s not with Boner Rage?”
“No. And can we please refer to Elliot as Elliot?” My heart thudded at the mere idea of going on a date with Elliot, even though it was a total impossibility. “Anyway, it’s Ralf that I’m meeting for a drink. He works with Sadie.”
“Hang on, don’t tell me who Sadie is.” I’d emailed and texted Bex multiple times already since arriving at RJF, there was a lot for her to remember. “Um … the producer who hates you.”
“Not so much ‘hates’ as questions the reasons for my existence, but yeah.”
“So, this Ralf, he fit?” Bex said hopefully.
