“Exactly.”
“Our tiny cubbyholes with no fancy view over the park,” Fin laments.
“Your offices are vast.”
“We don’t each have a floor.”
“I own the building,” I mutter, lowering myself to the edge of my Linley-designed desk.
“Generational wealth is such a bore.” Matt grins, knowing full well that I won’t bite. Who’d complain about being left the kind of money you couldn’t spend in one lifetime? Well, Eve, obviously.
“Speaking of, when are you moving out of the hotel?” Fin asks.
“When the renovations are complete.”
“On which house? The shag pad or the place you just picked up on London’s most expensive street?”
“I thought that was the shag pad?” Matt interjects.
“The one we know about,” Fin taunts.
“Is today a national holiday?” I glance Fin’s way. “Is the circus in town?”
“Every day is a circus, working with you.” Sitting up, he reaches for his take-out coffee cup, allowing me a moment to study him. Fin’s job involves late nights and very few early mornings. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s come into the office trailing the events of the previous night behind him. On this occasion, he seems neither hungover nor drunk.
“Get fucked,” Matt mutters as I turn my attention to him. “I’ve been at work longer than the both of you.” He gestures to the hat. “And I’ve had to deal with the shite Tragic Mike’s been dishing out over at Westminster Council.”
“If he hears you calling him that, we’ll never get through planning.” Fin grins.
“Well, the eejit shouldn’t have stripped at the council staffers’ Christmas party then, should he? That fucker’s brains could explode, and it wouldn’t even mess up his hair.”
“Getting back to this morning,” I cut in, “what’s going on here? Did we plan a prayer meeting, or is this an impromptu circle jerk?”
“That’s more his thing.” Matt hooks a thumb in Fin’s direction, who laughs into his coffee cup.
“I mean, I like you both,” he says, setting it down, “but not that much.”
“I’m thinking this is more like an intervention.” With a frown, Matt drops to the other sofa. “I know that arsewipe Atherton deserves his head kicking in. And I was all for you putting the block on planning permission for the last three of his builds.”
“I’d like to know who you fucked to stop him,” Fin murmurs, impressed.
“I was even entertained when you had Fin swoop in and steal his Qatari investors,” Matt adds, ignoring him. “Though personally, I’m not sure it was worth the cost.”
“Because boy can they party,” Fin adds.
“But whatever it is you’re up to now, I can’t—wecan’t,” Matt qualifies, his finger working like a metronome between the pair, “agree with it.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I stretch out my legs in a lounging sort of attitude. “Sadly for you both, I don’t require your consent.”
“What are you up to, Oliver?” Mirroring my stance, Fin lounges back, stretching his feet out. “Eve seems like a nice girl. She also seems far too levelheaded to get caught up in your bullshit. Willingly, at least.”
I make a show of looking at my watch as I drawl, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Is it Mortimer’s place?” Matt asks. “Last time we talked about it, you said he was running out of time. That he’d have no choice but to accept your offer.”
That was bravado. And before Eve fell into my lap. It was an opportunity too good to miss.An opportunity I’m enjoying more than I should.
“It’s taking longer than I’d like,” I say, pushing all thoughts of Eve away. “There’s also the risk some foreign-moneyed wide-eyed newlyweds might be struck by the romanticism of the place.”
