Page 33 of Painted Truths

Alex nods along before grabbing a pen and scribbling something on a napkin.

“Okay, great. Thanks, bye.”

Letting out a huge sigh, he stuffs the napkin in his pants pocket before looking at me, still a little pink.

“Since starting this new position, I see things differently. Well, the business side of things. My brother is still a prick in general, but he’s a fucking virtuoso in the business world. Ten steps ahead of the competition at all times…” He drifts off for a moment, a glazed look in his eyes. “It’s… it’s kind of awesome.”

My heart tightens in my chest at hearing the reticent praise in Alex’s voice.

“Not that I’d ever tell him.” He quickly recovers. “As I said, prick.”

The end of our lunch passes rapidly, and soon, he rings Samuel to pick us up. We sit in the backseat quietly for several minutes before I realise we’re going the wrong way.

“I thought we were headed back to the office.”

Alex chuckles before shrugging nonchalantly.

“The annual DeMarco Holdings Gala is this weekend.”

I already know this but have opted not to go, having pumped all my cash into securing my new place.

“Yeah, I know. But I’m not going.”

“Do you honestly think I’ll allow you to miss it now that you work with me? Hmm? And over what? A few hundred pounds to kit yourself out or whatever?”

I raise my hands to stop him from speaking, but he gently clasps both of my wrists in his, effectively stopping me.

“Liv.” His tone is pleading, and I can already feel the fight leave me. “Let me do this, please? It’s as much for me as it is for you. I’ve had to go stag since starting at the company because I don’t want any ladder-climbing socialites, or worse, staff getting the wrong idea, but this year”—his lips begin to twitch, and I’m already fighting the urge to match him—“this year, I have you.”

He grins broadly. It’s lopsided.

Crap, I’m screwed.

“You know everyone. If I must disappear for business crap, you’ll have plenty of people to shoot the shit with!”

I snort out a laugh. In total Alex mode, he’s quickly and efficiently undone all my resolve. Extricating my hands from his, I throw them up in fake exasperated surrender.

“Ugh, fine!” I wag a finger directly under his nose, striving to keep the mirth from my features for another moment. “But you owe me, Gaffer.”

Both of us dissolve into floods of laughter, knowing full well that I’m the one who owes him everything.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Olivia

I was shocked as all hell when a makeup artist and hairstylist rocked up to my apartment on Saturday afternoon alongside a bouquet of sunflowers. Our happy flower.

The accompanying note reads:

Enjoy the pampering.

Be seeing you soon,

A

Popping the flowers into a tall glass vase, I plant my ass in a seat and let the pampering commence.

Jo is working, but Nola sits and watches everything, like free entertainment or something. She snaps some pics and sends them to her lover as I am done up to the nines.