“Andrea, you do not need yet another prick in your life,” said Monish.
“But… maybe you could see how it plays out?” said Kelly. “You did say he was nice?”
“And he did stop you from, you know, dying?” James muttered. He wasn’t ready to give up on his luxury lifestyle by proxy yet.
Kelly leaned in. “Couldn’t you at least… give him the benefit of the doubt?”
“He might have a private island,” said James.
“Or at least a superyacht,” said Kelly.
“So you’re saying I should ignore the red flags because he’s rich?”
The table fell silent again. James scratched his neck.
“Andy’s right, of course,” said Monish.
“Oh, bollocks,” Kelly said finally. “This is exactly the sort of man you need to stay away from. He’s Rudy on steroids, Andy. Just with money.”
“That makes him even more dangerous,” said Monish.
I looked at my friends. “Right? And anyway. He might not be eighty, but he still sounds like a capitalist arsehole. What kind of man has money like that, at his age?”
“A trust fund wanker,” said Kelly decisively. “What we really need to focus on is making sure Andy doesn’t get fired.”
“Fair enough,” said James, raising his glass. “Fuck him, then. Figuratively, not literally.”
At that moment, a voice boomed across the deck. “Here they are, my sales rock stars.” Gerald was approaching our table with two others, backlit by the low sun.
“Fuck, Andy, it’s him.” Kelly spoke into her own shoulder.
“Well, at least Gerald’s talking us up,” murmured Monish. “I’ve missed my target two months in a row.”
“Liam, Bonnie, allow me to introduce Monish Khan—one of our top sales execs for Traumex.” Gerald beamed proudly and indicated toward Monish, who stood and held out a hand. “Monish, you know Mr. Roth, of course, and this is Bonnie Marchand, Liam’s strategic adviser.”
Shit. Sothatwas Bonnie. The woman blowing up his phone, the same one who’d stared at me like I was insane when I’d embarrassed myself at the company meeting. I felt my stomach twist. Uptight looking, but pretty. Was he shagging her, too?
“It is a pleasure.” Monish nodded lightly in that gracious way he had, and Liam shook his hand warmly. Bonnie leaned over to do the same.
“And Kelly Quinn.”
Kelly tried to stand, but the back of her chair got stuck against the wall. She ended up leaning forward, half bent over, like a pretzel. “Traumex, telesales.” She smiled tightly and stuck out a hand, trying not to tip into the table of espresso martinis.
“Don’t get up, please,” said Liam, looking slightly anxious as she wobbled awkwardly. He caught her hand and gave it a brief squeeze. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, and the top button of his black cotton shirt was undone, his hair unruly again like it had been in the lift. He was even hotter than I remembered,if that was possible. What an arsehole. What kind of woman could resistthat? Bonnie gave a small wave with the tips of her fingers.
“James Hollis, HR.” Gerald gestured to James at the side of the table.
James stood and stuck out his arm a lot more impressively than Kelly had managed. “Not a sales rock star, I’m afraid.” He smiled in a way that couldn’t be clearly identified as bitchy. “Just a culture champion, alas.” Gerald laughed awkwardly. Liam, for his part, raised his brows a fraction and glanced at Bonnie.
“And finally, Andrea Jones, whom I’m sure needs no introduction.” Gerald laughed and looked around the table for approval, slapping Liam lightly on the back. I could feel the heat crawl up my neck.
“Hi,” I said, attempting to stand, but facing a similar issue to Kelly. “I’m ClotRx.”
I’m ClotRx—really? That was my intro? Never had I loathed my product’s brand name more. It sounded like I identified as some sort of prescription period treatment. Liam’s brows knit together.
“It’s the hemostatic agent,” Bonnie whispered to him. My ears grew hotter. I wasn’t sure if it was the cocktails, but I was starting to feel giddy. I tottered slightly, hoping I could sit down again soon.
“Yes, of course. We’ve met.” Liam smiled and extended his arm. Was he trying to suppress a laugh? Had he and Gerald been talking about me, maybe joking with this stony-faced Bonnie about what a fool I’d made of myself?
