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Cathy lets out a burst of laughter, and I jump in my chair. “Oh, you little devil, you,” she coos. “You’re a sugar daddy.”
My jaw hits the desk, every inch of me offended. “Seriously, Cathy?” Talk about kicking my ego.
“I’ve always fancied myself a playboy.”
“Behave, will you?” I pull my phone away when another call comes through. It’s John. “Cathy, I’ve got John on the other line.”
“Okay, my boy. I’ll head to your swanky penthouse shortly. Make you some supper.”
“That would be lovely.”
“Unless, of course, your new lady friend likes to cook. I don’t want to step on any toes.”
I smile. “She hates cooking.”
“Wonderful!”
“I’ll call the concierge and tell him to see you up. Ask for Clive, okay?”
“Clive. Yes, dear, I’ll ask for Clive.”
“See you, Cathy.” I hang up and take John’s call, bracing myself for the fireworks.
“How was the meeting?” he asks, and I relax but frown.
“Fine. How was the pickup?”
“Fine.”
“No protest?” I ask, surprised.
“No, I think the girl is starting to accept your boundless craziness.”
I huff. “If I’m crazy, it’s because she sends me crazy. Where are you?”
“On my way.” He hangs up, and I relax back in my chair, chewing my lip, thoughtful. She accepts my boundless craziness. I spin my phone in my hand, my mind spinning with it.Boundless.
The natural progression.
I dial Kate, and I can’t lie, I hold my breath while it rings until she answers, sounding sleepy. “Morning, Rhino,” she quips groggily.
Rhino?Well, I do ram hard.“Morning.”
“And what can I do for you?”
“Well, since you’ve asked,” I say, trying to calm my racing heartbeat.
24
Surprisingly and most pleasingly,the morning passes relatively quickly and I’m soon heading back into town for my lunch date with my girl. It’s the perfect way to break the day into smaller, more manageable chunks, and Ava has absolutely no excuse to not have a lunch break. It’s a legal requirement. Both by British law and by Jesse Ward’s law. I smile and put some music on, tapping my wheel to the beat of Wonderwall for only a few seconds before the music is replaced by ringing. I scowl at his name on my screen. It’s taken him over twenty-four hours to return my SOS call. “What?” I answer shortly.
“You called?”
“Yesterday, Sam. I called yesterday.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“You don’t work.”
