“Absolutely not,” he snaps, sharper than before. “Your boss was a sleaze.”
I raise a brow. “And?”
“And I’m not having you around someone like that.”
I let out a short laugh. “You realise you’re not my boss anymore, right? You don’t get to decide what I do.”
He drags a hand over his face, clearly trying to rein himself in. “I don’t want an argument,” he mutters, “I just want to take care of you and the baby.”
There it is again. Control dressed up as concern. “And I appreciate that,” I say, softening slightly. “I do. But I don’t need it.” His gaze flicks up to mine. “I just need a bit of time,” I continue. “To get back on my feet. And then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Something unreadable flashes across his face. “We can do this properly,” I add. “Like normal people. You’ll have contact.”
He lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s talk about that another time,” he cuts in. “Before we say something we can’t take back.”
I watch him for a moment. He’s shutting it down and any hope of us having an adult conversation about contact, leaves me. There’s no way he’s ever going to be reasonable about this.
“I don’t want us fighting,” he adds, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Although, I have to admit, I kind of like this version of you. You’ve found that bite again.”
“Well,” I shrug, “you can’t fire me anymore, so I don’t have to pretend to like you.”
His smirk deepens slightly. “I thought we could go out today,” he says, shifting gears. “I’m planning on redecorating this place. Thought I’d get a woman’s opinion for once.”
I narrow my eyes slightly. “Dangerous move.”
“I’ve already got a designer,” he continues. “We’re meeting her at ten. And Vinn and Sofia are joining us for lunch.”
“I was planning a day on the couch,” I say, picking up my toast. “Doing absolutely nothing.” He smiles, but it’s tight, he’s not going to let me wallow for a second longer. I sigh. “But since you clearly need my opinion,” I add, gesturing around us, “I’ll start now by saying, get a new designer.” His brow lifts. “This place is like living inside a showroom,” I continue. “All beige and glass and no soul. It needs colour. Life. Something that doesn’t feel like you’re afraid to touch it.”
He studies me, then pushes to his feet. “Tell her that yourself, at ten,” he says, shrugging.
It’s been a while since I’ve been in any kind of social situation, and standing beside Ray now, I’m painfully aware of it.
My fingers knot together in front of me as we wait for his designer to arrive. I try to relax, to look like I belong here, but the moment she walks in, that illusion shatters.
She’s flawless.
Designer from head to toe, not a hair out of place. Even the tiny diamond studs in her ears catch the light just right.
Tiffany’s.
I know because I’ve stood outside their shop on Bond Street more times than I care to admit, staring at those exact earrings like they were something magical.
“Alison,” Ray greets, standing smoothly.
He leans in, kissing each of her cheeks, and she lights up like he’s just done her a personal favour.
“Ray,” she gushes, her voice all sugar and polish. “I was so pleased when you called.”
I immediately feel like a third wheel. She doesn’t even glance at me before sliding into the seat opposite him, her entire focus fixed on Ray.
“I’d just finished approving the most gorgeous wallpaper design,” she continues. “Deep tones, very moody. It would look incredible in your bedroom. It’s very sophisticated, sexy.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Ray, however, doesn’t react the way she expects. “Actually,” he says, leaning back slightly, “Wynter will be approving the décor this time.”
Her gaze finally flicks to me.Yeah, bitch, I’m right here.She gives me a quick, dismissive, once-over. Then she turns back to him, her smile snapping back into place. “Of course,” she says brightly. “How exciting.”
