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This feels different.
She feels different.
Different enough that I message Claude on Wednesday morning and order him to book both Delaney’s and Amy for this very same evening.
Looming mental breakdown or no, I’ll be having that girl’s pussy tonight.Chapter Twenty-EightMelissaEven Dean can’t hide how impressed he is when I tell him I’m on again for this evening. He makes me dinner as I search through my wardrobe, scouting for something vaguely suitable that Mr Henley hasn’t seen me in already.
It’s no good. I’ve got nothing super dressy other than the red and pink I bought especially, and so it’s done. A choice taken out of my hands.
I’m going to have to go as myself this evening.
I hope that the floral patterned tunic dress is enough. It’s not fitted or fancy, but it’s pretty. At least I think so.
I give Joe his bath before I leave, playing with his floating boat toys amongst all the bubbles and lather. He laughs as one capsizes and it makes me laugh too.
I love how he smiles. I love how his eyes sparkle.
I love how happy he is.
I tell Dean so once I’ve settled Joe into bed. Tell him how grateful I am here’s here to support me. How great he is with Joe.
He nods. “I love the little guy,” he says, and I believe him. It’s written all over his face.
I gulp down my pasta and finish up my makeup, and I have no time to take the underground across town this evening, so I take a cab. I have to call Frank at New Start on the way across town, apologising so hard that I won’t be able to help out this evening. But as it turns out it’s a major win of monster proportions, a stroke of lucky fortune much earlier than I’d intended it to happen.
“Not to worry,” Frank tells me. “These things happen. It’s a longshot, but we have a team running at Brickwood on Friday if you fancied stopping by.” He’s already backtracking as I answer. Already telling me that I shouldn’t feel pressured.
“I’d love to,” I say. “Friday works.”
I take directions like I’ll need them, confirm the times as though I don’t have a clue what they are.
He tells me he’s looking forward to it, that he can’t wait to introduce me to the Brickwood team.
My heart races with it all.
I just hope it’s not too soon. It could be way too soon.
I push that worry away as the cab pulls into Delaney’s.
I’m early, but only by ten minutes tops. Barely enough time to check into my own room and head up to Mr Henley in time.
But it turns out that doesn’t matter.
I’m paying the driver before I see him. Giving my thanks as I catch Mr Henley from the corner of my eye.
He’s waiting. Watching. Making no secret of the fact that he’s staring as he waits for the car to pull away.
I gesture to my outfit before I’ve even said hello.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I was in a rush. Little warning. I, um…”
He looks me up and down. “No apology necessary,” he says, “I like it.” The smile at the corner of his mouth makes it clear I’ve passed the wardrobe test.
I take a breath. “Hi,” I say.
“Good evening, Amy,” he says.
And screw etiquette, because damn if I know how a paid-for escort is supposed to act in public. I close the distance and wrap my arms around his neck, and he smells absolutely gorgeous as I press my lips to his cheek.
I pull away but he doesn’t. His hand rests on my back as he opens the door for me, and stays on my back all the way to reception.
I watch his handwriting as he checks in, love the way he flourishes his fake signature with a flick of his wrist.
I’m not expecting the receptionist to recognise me, not dressed like this, but she does.
“Will you be checking in too, Miss Randall?” she asks with one of those super professional smiles which always make me nervous.
Mr Henley looks at me, and it must be obvious I don’t know what to answer, because he does it for me.
“Miss Randall will be staying with me,” he says, and she nods.
“Enjoy your stay.”
His smile is all for me as he answers. “We will, thank you.”
It’s so strange stepping into the elevator with him. So strange to be staring up at him in just the same way I did at Grosvenor Henley in my stupid uniform on day one.
“I’m glad you could make it at such short notice,” he tells me.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I reply.
I take a breath as we step out onto the top floor corridor, and my hand brushes his as we head over to suite twelve at the far end. He takes it, his fingers possessive as they land on mine. His grip is firm. Demanding.
