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‘We’ll use the conference room,’ James replied, grabbing his laptop, stalking to the door and leaving the room without a backwards glance.
Entering the corridor, he took a long, slow breath, filling his lungs with the headache-amplifying smell of fresh paint.
Just stay calm. This is your only option right now.
The sound of Estelle, Max, and a herd of unicorns heading his way made him continue towards the kitchen.
‘I’ll get us coffee,’ he called over his shoulder.
‘Nice one, Boss-man,’ Max said. ‘I’ll have a—’
Entering the kitchen, James body-slammed the slow-closing safety door behind him. Flipping on the ludicrously expensive coffee machine that had once sat in his London flat, he rested his hands on the edge of the countertop and dropped his head.
Fuck. My. Life.
He’d once had the world at his feet, but now he was in the arse-end of nowhere, waiting hand and foot on an obsequious little wanker who undermined him at every turn, and a goddess who despised him.
Six months. That’s as long as your sentence needs to be.
He just had to make the event at Foxbooke Manor turn a profit. Then his mum could keep her dream life in the sticks and he could get back to civilisation. He didn’t give a shit about his dad. Hunter-Savage senior could do whatever he liked with BDE Entertainment once the festival was over.
But until that glorious moment when James could drive out of Somerset without a backward glance, he had to find a way of working with Estelle and Max and keeping his sanity intact at the same time.
Going to the fridge, he pulled out the carton of ‘soylmond milk’ that Max insisted was the only thing his stomach could tolerate in coffee. Well, that and a pump each of vanilla, caramel, white mocha, toffee nut, toasted coconut, and peppermint syrup, plus cinnamon powder, monk fruit extract, stevia and cold foam. James had studied chemistry at Oxford and the concoction Max had created turned his head as well as his stomach.
He made Max’s coffee-like substance as quickly as he could, then left it on the side whilst he prepared Estelle’s cappuccino. The part of him that wanted to show off demanded he create a pattern in the foam. As well as hearts, leaves and ferns, he could also do a swan, a peacock, and even a horse.
Could I try a unicorn?
Brow furrowed in concentration, he gave it a go. The attempt was passable, but not up to his exacting standards, so he rubbed it out with the tip of a spoon, shook a blend of cocoa powder and coconut palm sugar over the top, then made himself a triple espresso.
Holding the drinks on a tray in one hand, James pushed the door open and entered the conference room. Max sat at the end of the long table, his attention on his laptop. Estelle was beside him, trying to see over his shoulder.
Max raised his hand, but not his head. ‘Cheers, buddy, chuck it down over there. I won’t be a sec.’
James sat on the same side as Estelle, placing the tray between them and out of Max’s reach. Working for years at Conqueror, one of the City’s top brokerage firms, he was used to facing off against Ivy-league-educated alphas, men who’d arrived in London from New York with balls even bigger than their pay packets. He’d outwitted and out-alpha’d them in the boardroom and the bedroom and wasn’t going to let Max take control.
He passed Estelle her drink. ‘How would you like me to address you?’ he asked, his tone mild.
Her eyes darted away from his, then settled on the coffee. ‘Estelle would be fine, thank you.’
The tension in his stomach eased a little. Nodding, he flipped open his laptop. ‘We’ll spend today getting you up to speed with our intranet, so we’re all using the same systems and sharing information.’ Max glanced up and James continued, his voice a little firmer. ‘Over this week we’ll discuss big-picture stuff, like confirming the artists, then allocate tasks. Is there anything in particular you’d like to take the lead on?’
‘Well—’ Max began.
‘Estelle?’ James interrupted, not allowing any of his focus to shift from her face.
She also appeared to be tuning out Max, her deep brown eyes holding his. ‘I’d like to continue with scheduling the stages and liaising with artists.’
‘But—’ Max interjected.
‘Agreed,’ James said. ‘This festival is your baby, and thanks to your efforts, UberGraft are headlining. BDE Entertainment is here to support you. Isn’t that right, Max?’
Reluctantly breaking Estelle’s gaze, James stared at the younger man. Of course Max wanted the fun jobs. After being abandoned by his former colleagues, the most exciting reason to stay on at BDE was the chance to arselick famous people. James didn’t care about any of that. He viewed everything over the next six months as a marathon to be endured, not enjoyed.
‘Thank you,’ Estelle said.
His gaze flicked back to her. She seemed surprised he’d agreed so readily to her request. Her expression seemed softer, more real. Another tingle began at the base of his spine.
