“Tempting, but I’ll pass.”
“C’mon. Think of your future boyfriend. Or at least, your future fuck buddy.”
“My futurefuckbuddy?”
“Yes. He’s lonely. He needs you. Hiscockneeds you.”
“Just what I want on top of everything else—a needy cock.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“If his cock can do laundry and sort my KPIs, we can talk.Otherwise, it can get in line behind my Q2 target, the mold in my shower, and Gerald’s pass-ag Post-it notes.”
“If I find a cock that useful, I’m keeping it.”
“I’m sure you will.”
*
Seven minutes later and I was ready, with time to spare.
I smoothed my hands down the sides of my ivory dress—lightweight but structured, clinging in all the right places.Business attire, and firmly on the right side of slutty. It even looked expensive. As long as I didn’t sit down too long.
Yes. I lookedtogether. Polished.
Like a woman who Marie Kondoed her knicker drawer.
A woman no new owner would dare make redundant.
A woman—
A horrible gurgling noise interrupted my self-assessment.
What thehell—
Either the drains were dying, or someone else was.
The sound echoed down the hallway, wet and guttural.
Was Eliza awake and choking on her collagen shake, or was there a meth addict in withdrawal looking for ammonia under my sink? Clapham wasn’t exactly Mayfair—you never knew what could happen.
Wait.
I knew thatsound.
Wasthat—
I sprinted into the kitchen to see Mr. Darcy looking stunned, just as my heel connected at a too-sharp angle with the tube of cat vomit on the floor next to him. My leg shot out sideways, and I hit the tiles with all the grace of a droppedlasagna. Warm dampness seeped through the thin fabric onto my left bum cheek.
My eyes watered, but pain was the least of my worries.
Back in the bathroom, I dabbed at the puke mark with a towel. My arse hurt, but at least the stain was fading. Then I saw it—a huge gash along my arm, bleeding freely. I caught my breath as a gigantic droplet fell like a ruby, straight onto the hem.
Not only was I smeared in regurgitated kibble, I also looked like an extra fromFightClub.
And I still needed to find Band-Aids, which were somewhere under the earbuds and bottles of fake tan.
Eliza appeared behind me in the mirror, blond hair haloed, eyes half closed.
