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I can still hear his voice asking me which hole I want his cock in. The contrast between the elegance of the bouquet and the filthiness of the night in his bed is quite something.
“Want me to arrange these in a vase for you?” Janie asks.
“Yes, please,” I tell her, and she takes them into the back room.
I key in Ant’s name online before our first client of the day arrives. It doesn’t take long to find him in the search results.
Anthony Bradstone. Director of Investment Relations. Nevilles Banking Group.
Yes. It’s him. His photograph is on his business profile, with a whole host of accolades under his name. No wonder he can afford De Chante. I’m still staring at his picture when Janie presents the bouquet of flowers in a vase for my desk, arranged to perfection.
“Whoa, is that him?” she asks, catching sight of my screen. “That’s the guy who sent you flowers?”
“Yeah.”
“Then screw him saying thanks! Get him to say will you marry me,” she laughs, but I don’t laugh along with her. The idea of walking up the aisle still gives me a pang. Her joke is too close for comfort.
The office phone rings and Janie heads over to answer it. I carry on scrolling through Ant’s profile and the client testimonials are astounding. I know nothing about investment banking, but he sure sounds good at it. That doesn’t surprise me. I can’t imagine him being shit at anything.
I opt for text instead of calling him, feeling out of my depth. Weird, since I’m usually pretty confident with phone conversations.
Thanks for the amazing flowers. It was great to meet you.
It’s a stupid message. I’m regretting it the moment I click send, but I don’t have time to follow it up with another. My phone is already buzzing with an incoming call.
Shit. Wow. And shit again. It’s him.
“Hi,” I say, and get up from my desk, too jittery to sit in my chair.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” he replies, and his voice is so familiar it runs through me all warm. “I’m sorry for leaving so early. I had a flight to catch and didn’t want to wake you. You looked like Sleeping Beauty in that four-poster bed.”
I laugh. “I don’t think Sleeping Beauty is the description anyone would use, given how trashed I was,” I tell him, keeping my voice low.
I think he’ll laugh along with me, but he doesn’t.
“You are absolutely stunning, Cass. Trashed on champagne or not, it wouldn’t make a difference.”
I could pinch myself just to check I’m in the real world. It feels like I’ve woken up in some other dimension.
“You’re pretty hot yourself,” I say, repeating the sentiment of Saturday night.
“Hot enough that you’ll let me take you out for a meal when I’m back next weekend?”
Janie’s finished on her call, and she’s staring over.
“Definitely hot enough that I’ll want to go out for a meal with you next weekend. Thanks.”
Janie’s eyebrows rise. She mouths is that him?
I nod and she gives me a thumbs-up with a massive grin.
“Next Friday evening work for you?” he asks.
“Friday evening works great for me.”
“Excellent. Any preference on where you’d like to go?”
I burn up with a rush, remembering again how he asked which hole I’d like his cock in.
I repeat the sentiment of Saturday night again, with a smile. “You choose.”
“Great answer,” he says and I can picture his sexy grin.
Toni Kelly’s car pulls up outside. She’s my first brand new client consultation in Malvern.
Janie heads across the office to answer the door, and Ant must hear her say hello.
“You sound busy. I’d better leave you to it.”
So much of me wants to scream no and stay talking to him all day long, but I can’t.
I thank him again for the flowers and hang up to greet my new client. Toni is lovely. A sweet girl who is only just twenty-three, with blonde curls and a happy smile that makes her eyes light up. Watching her walk down the aisle is going to be amazing. I don’t get a pang at the thought today, which is very, very welcome. I guess I have the hot man in the tux to thank for that.
Toni has definite ideas for her event. Teals and silvers, and a summer marquee with a live jazz band. I finish mapping out her hopes for her perfect day and wave her off with a smile, to find Janie is clapping her hands for me. I think she’s referring to how well the planning session went, but no.
“That was him on the phone, wasn’t it? Posh flowers guy? Are you going out on a date? Are you going to have babies with him?”
I laugh and shrug.
“Yeah, we’re going out on a date. On the weekend.”
She gives me a high five, like I’ve landed a lottery win.
