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‘Someone’s touchy,’ Lucy says, watching me closely as I shift and fidget in my seat. She’s getting a kick out of this. I’m just about to tell her exactly why I’m touchy when my attention is captured by another man walking towards us.
Oh? Interesting.
I slowly cast my eyes back to Lucy.
Then I smirk. ‘There’s someone on their way over.’ I cock my head and widen my eyes for effect, now taking a leisurely sip of my champagne. ‘Blond. Beard.’
She sits up straight and grabs her glass with both hands. ‘No,’ she murmurs, shaking her head slightly.
‘Oh, yes,’ I counter, looking over her shoulder when Mark comes to a stop behind her. There’s that mole. It really is cute. ‘Hi.’ My voice is so completely over the top. ‘I’m Eleanor.’
Mark gives me a sideways smile, obviously amused by my enthusiasm. Or maybe just confused. ‘Hi,’ he says as he rounds the table until he’s between us, looking at Lucy. ‘Lucy?’
I purse my lips, only just managing to rein in my grin. My friend mouths something that I don’t catch, which doesn’t bother me because I’m guessing it wasn’t pleasant. Then she slaps an exaggerated smile on her face. ‘Oh, hi, Mark.’
‘You made it, then?’ he says. ‘I thought you had a date tonight?’
I cough over my champagne, earning a filthy look from Lucy. ‘Sorry.’ I thump the side of my fist lightly on my chest. ‘Bubbles.’
‘Change of plan.’ Lucy relaxes back in her seat, bringing her glass to her lips and holding it there, slowly gliding it from side to side as she gives Mark sultry eyes. I want to laugh at her tactics, but she’s doing too good a job of it. ‘Eleanor has man trouble,’ she tells him. ‘She needed a friend.’
I shoot Lucy a shocked look. ‘Have I?’
‘Yes.’ She looks out the corner of her eye at me. ‘She’s fallen for her boss.’
I nearly choke on my tongue when I inhale sharply. ‘I have not fallen for my boss.’
‘And she’s in denial.’
‘I am not.’
‘See?’ Lucy points her glass at me. ‘Denial, right there.’
Mark gives me a sympathetic look, and I throw Lucy an indignant one. I’m rendered speechless. In the space of sixty seconds, she’s made me out to be a sad, hopeless fool, when she’s the one who’s tactically dragged me to this club so she can see her work crush.
Outraged, I stand and swipe up my glass. ‘I’m going to the ladies’.’ My hair swooshes through the air as I swivel, whipping my hot face. ‘She wanted to be the girl in the printer room with you, Marky boy,’ I call over my shoulder, catching Mark’s eyes widening and Lucy’s jaw falling into her glass. I smile to myself, my hips gaining some sway as I saunter off, smug as can be. I take a detour – so I don’t bump into a certain no one who’s likely to make my eyes bleed – and then the bouncer frees me from the VIP area.
I bump and shimmy through the crowds to Kygo’s ‘Here for You’, spotting a sign above pointing to the ladies’. I’m relieved when I fall through the door, not only to be free from the sea of people, but because I need to check my face. Because I’m hot. And a bit of dabbing with some powder might be required to soak up the sweat. I peek in the mirror and note there is no sweat. But I still drag my powder out and have a quick brush, followed by a touch-up of lipstick. And some mascara, just for good measure. Then some blusher, because it’s feeling left out.
Five minutes later, I’ve reapplied everything, including a squirt of Issey Miyake behind my ears. My hair has been ruffled and my dress smoothed down. ‘I have not fallen for my boss,’ I say to my reflection. ‘Because he’s a first-class twat.’
‘Sounds like a catch.’
I look to my left, finding a perfect stranger washing her bag. ‘Sorry. Thought I was alone.’
She smiles into the mirror. ‘Messy business, getting involved with your boss.’
I laugh, shaking my head and packing my lipstick into my purse. ‘I’m not getting involved with my boss.’
‘Of course,’ she says on a laugh, shaking her hands and looking me up and down.
‘You sound like you’re talking from experience,’ I say tentatively, wondering why I’m getting into such a conversation with a woman I don’t know.
‘I am.’
‘And how did that work out?’ I ask, fearing I know exactly how.
She cocks her head and raises her eyebrows at me. ‘I’m unemployed,’ she states matter-of-factly with clear bitterness, making me deflate on the spot. She throws me a little wave before exiting, leaving me alone again in the Ladies.
I gaze at myself in the mirror with pity, my freshly applied make-up perfect, but all I see is a total clown. That will be me if I’m not careful. Bitter, twisted, and jobless if I continue partaking in his silly game. For the love of all things dignified, I’m better than this. He can have the Alexas or whichever beautiful model-like women he wants. He’s just a man – yes, a sexy, gorgeous man – but a man to be avoided for many reasons, all of which I should list to remind myself. One: he’s with someone else. Two: he’s troubled, and even his grandfather warned him away from me. Three: he regretted kissing me, and I deserve better than Becker Hunt’s swaying mood. I’m not in London for this. I’m in control of my future.
