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“Damn. Mum? Mum, can you hear me?”
“There you are,” she shrieks, making me pull my mobile away from my ear. “I was saying not to forget.”
“I’ll have Gina do it this morning.”
“I don’t know what you’d do without that woman.”
“Neither do I.” The doors of the lift slide open and I frown, looking for that woman. Then I remember; I’m early. I make tracks to the kitchen, prepared to make my own coffee. “I’ll call you later.”
“No, you won’t. I’ll call you in the morning, as usual.”
“Bye, Mother.” I hang up as I land in the kitchen, being confronted with the elaborate coffee machine. I stare at it and the millions of buttons on the front. “Right,” I say, dropping my briefcase and grabbing a mug from the stand to the side. It can’t be that difficult. I place my cup under the spout and scan the various selections of coffee, spotting my preferred choice. I press the button labelled Americano and wait. And wait. And wait some more. “Come on,” I mutter, pressing it again. Nothing. Growling under my breath, I start scanning for any obvious signs for why the machine isn’t spitting out my morning hit of caffeine, noting there are no lights lit up. “Ah,” I search for the on/off button and flick it on, smiling, a bit too proud of myself. Then I make my selection again. And get spat at with coffee. “No.” I jump back, out of the firing line of the spray. “No, no, no.” My panicking hands fumble for the off switch again, unable to avoid the coffee being fired at me. “Motherfucker.” I look down at my chest, finding I’m drenched in shitty brown liquid. “Fucking great,” I rant, snatching up my case from the floor and stalking out of the kitchen. No fucking coffee, and now I look a state.
Chucking my case on the couch in my office, I yank my jacket off and throw it down, tugging at my tie. “Perfect fucking start to my day.” I drop into my chair and unbutton my shirt, shrugging it off and dumping it on my desk.
The door to my office opens and Gina appears, looking every bit as stunned as she should. I’m here before she is, and I’m half-naked at my desk. “What’s going on?” She scans my office. I know she’s looking for a woman.
“Thought I’d come in early.”
“Naked?” She wanders in, giving me suspicious eyes.
“I had an accident with the coffee machine. What the fuck is wrong with that thing?”
“It’s temperamental.”
“No shit.”
“A bit like you this morning. No lay last night?”
My eyes narrow, and I turn to my computer, keeping my mouth shut.
“Oh my God, you didn’t get laid last night.” She’s in the chair opposite my desk in a second, looking at me, shocked. I guess she should be. “And now you’re super grouchy.”
“I’m not grouchy,” I snap, very grouchily.
She recoils, eyebrows high. “Okay.”
“I’m not grouchy,” I repeat, this time calmly. “I have a long day, and I needed to be in early.” I open my emails and start scanning through, deleting the obvious ones—the ones from conquests.
“Okay.” She accepts easily, though I know my assistant, and I know she knows I’m talking bollocks. “I’ll get your coffee.” Gina gets up, collecting my shirt and tie as she does before wandering over to my couch and gathering up my coffee-stained suit jacket. “I’ll send these to the cleaners.”
“Thank you.”
“You have spare shirts in your bathroom.”
On a tired sigh, I get up and make tracks to the bathroom. Shirts. Yes, I have lots of shirts, but no fucking jackets or ties. “Day gets worse.” I grab one and shrug it on, buttoning it up as I follow my feet back to my desk. So, I’m doing casual today. It won’t hurt. “All that time wasted this morning.”
“What?”
I look up and find Gina with my coffee. “Nothing.” I accept gratefully. “What’s on the agenda today?”
“You tell me, since you’re here early for your long day.”
“Gina,” I breathe tiredly, and her lips straighten, holding back her grin.
“You have a meeting with Sal and Pyra Lingerie at ten.”
“I have? I thought Sal was taking care of that.”
Gina gives me a look I know. “He’s calling in reinforcements.”
Which means his business talent isn’t going to win us the deal, so my talent for charm might. “Go on.” I wave an instructive hand at her.
“I’ve rescheduled yesterday’s meeting with the Dior team for two, and I have the afternoon off, in case you forgot.”
“I didn’t forget,” I lie, sinking into my chair and focusing on Outlook.
“You all right?”
My PA’s question snaps my attention back to her. “Fine,” I answer assertively, sitting forward and clicking, focusing on an email from Mike at Paco Rabanne. He wants Ryan Reynolds. I sigh and place my coffee down, bashing out a reply, reminding him that Ryan fronts Boss. “I’m just fine,” I reiterate, for myself more than for Gina. “Why?” I wince. Why would I invite her to press me?
