“Well, I could say the same for you.”
“But now you don’t have a job,” he said.
“Let’s be honest, Ryan. I was never very good at it anyway. You should never have hired me in the first place.”
“I’m glad I did, though,” he said, and my stomach fluttered. “But I really do need an assistant.”
“You know who you should get?” An idea popped into my head.
“Who?”
“Ayanda, at reception. You know, she’s been working for you the longest out of all your staff there.”
“Really?” he said.
“She’s been waiting for a promotion for years, and she says she’s going to leave if she doesn’t get one soon. She’s nice, she’s clearly good at her job, or you would have fired her, and it’s clear she can handle you, since she’s worked for you for so long,” I concluded.
“Handle me?”
“Well, you’re not exactly easy to work for, Mr. Stark.” I looked up at the building. He was standing by his window. “I can see you,” I said. “Look down.”
The figure at the window turned and, even though he was very far away, I imagined I could see him smiling. “You’re still here?” He waved at me.
“You kicked me out, and I don’t have a car,” I said.
“Where’s your . . . oh, we left it at your place last night.”
“Wow, this is feeling very familiar. All we need is for it to rain,” I said, waving up at him.
“Very familiar,” he chuckled. “So, planning on walking home again?”
“I was considering it,” I joked.
“Just wait there, I’ll be down in a second.”
“No shame, you’re busy, I can catch an Uber. I have enough money in my bank account to do extravagant things like that now.”
He laughed. “I’d never dream of it. I’ll be down now.” He hung up and I stood there looking up at the strange building.
I probably wouldn’t be coming to it again. Barely two weeks ago, when I’d first seen it, it had struck fear into my heart. But now, it was doing something very different to my heart. Well, the man inside the building was anyway. Because I was completely falling in love with him.
CHAPTEREIGHTY-TWO
Ryan
He walked back into the house after a long day at work. It had been a good day actually. He’d offered Ayanda the job and her face had lit up at the news. It had made him feel good. She’d also insisted that he call her by her first name, not her surname. He’d agreed. She’d tried to call him Ryan, instead of Mr. Stark, but he’d had to stop her. That was taking it too far.
He dropped his bag by the front door and headed into the lounge where he was assaulted by sounds and smells that he didn’t recognize. He could hear voices. Two of them, chatting and laughing. He walked towards the sounds and stopped when he saw them. Emmy and Poppy were in the kitchen cooking together. It looked like a bomb had gone off in there; the contents of every single cupboard had been poured out onto the countertops.
They didn’t see him, and he used the opportunity to watch them. Poppy’s hair was loose, and unruly strands kept falling forward. She repeatedly tucked them behind her ears, but they kept on tumbling, over and over again. They were stubborn and beautiful and a little bit crazy, just like her. And Emmy looked happy, happier than he’d seen her in ages.
He called out to them. “Hey, guys!”
They both looked up at the same time and his heart skipped a beat. Seeing them like that, together, looking at him, made him feel . . .feel what?It was hard to understand exactly what it was. But it was big and warm and all-consuming. A feeling that was comforting, but also so overpowering that there was something about it that frightened him.
“What are you guys doing?” he asked.
“We’re cooking dinner,” Poppy said happily.
