The minutes crawl by. Then finally —
Matilda: I told you you were a distraction. :) Okay, I’m in.
I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. Jas must see it because she leans on the bar and smirks.
“Fucking hell,” she says, shaking her head. “You’ve got it bad.”
Across from us, Lukas laughs at something the waiter says — but his eyes drift back to the door again, searching.
And for the first time all night, I’m not the only one in the room quietly waiting for someone who might never walk through that door.
Thirty Eight
Matilda
Friday’s here, and Henry still hasn’t told me where we’re going. I’ve been trying to guess all week, but he won’t budge an inch — just keeps saying it’s a surprise, that frustrating smirk plastered across his face.
We’ve been hiding whateverthisis for three weeks now — three weeks of sneaking glances, secret smiles, and stolen moments that feel like they could burn through walls. Add to that the weeks before where we both pretended not to feel what was clearly happening, and now keeping quiet about the fact that I’m going away for the weekend with him feels like actual torture.
I want to stand on my desk and scream,Henry Chase is mine and I am his!But then again… am I? I mean, surely he wouldn’t be whisking me away for a weekend escape if this was just about sex. Right?
Next week is my big presentation for the residential role and my first-ever client meeting with Mrs Wright — two career-defining moments — and honestly, I should be a wreck about it.But instead, I’m choosing to listen to Henry and justlet gothis weekend. To actually relax for once.
I can’t remember the last time I went away anywhere with a man — let alone one who makes me feel like this. Something about it feels different, like we’re on the edge of something real. The scary kind of real. In all the years I’ve known Henry, I’ve never seen him in a relationship. Not even close. He’s the king of no-strings-attached, and I knew that before I ever crossed that line. But still… I can’t shake the hope that this time, maybe, it’s more.
When I arrive at the office, Henry’s already at his desk. He doesn’t look up, but I see it — that small, secret smile that tugs at his mouth when he knows I’ve walked in. My chest tightens.
“Off somewhere nice?”
I jump at the voice behind me. Thomas is standing there, eyes flicking down to the large travel bag by my chair, that smug little grin on his face.
“Oh! Uh, no — just heading to my parents’ for the weekend,” I lie quickly, shoving the bag under my desk. “Figured I’d go straight after work.”
“Ah,” he says, clearly unconvinced but amused. “Nice. Family time and all that.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, desperate to redirect the conversation as I take off my coat and set down the coffees I picked up — one for me, one for Henry. We didn’t drive in together today because he had an early meeting, which, of course, I completely forgot about when I left the house… meaning I had to lug my weekend bag on the train. Smooth, Green.
“Michael asked me to drop off these files to Henry before heading to a client site,” Thomas explains, holding up a thick folder. “Is he free now, or shall I come back later?”
“I’ll check.”
I walk toward Henry’s glass office, catching his expression through the door — the soft smile he had moments ago has morphed into a sharp frown. A veryHenry Chasekind of frown.
“Morning, Mr Chase,” I say as I step in, deliberately teasing.
His glare could cut glass. It’s half annoyance, half something much more dangerous. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop the grin from forming. I used to call himMr Chaseall the time when I first started, until he told me to stop because it made him “sound ancient.” I started using it again recently — partly to wind him up, partly because, well… he gets that look in his eyes when I do.
“Why is he here?” he asks, voice clipped.
“Oh, good morning to you too,” I say, playing innocent. “Thank you for my coffee. Lovely to see you as always.”
“Matilda,” he warns.
“Fine,” he sighs. “Good morning. Thank you for my coffee. Now, why is he here?”
“He’s got some files from Michael. Can I send him in?”
Henry leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly. “If you must.”
