Page 33 of After Hours


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Lauren

It’s another fifteen minutes before we pull up outside an elegant white brick house in Mayfair.

Does this make me cheap? Probably. Oh god.

Matteo has kept my mind busy the entire drive, chatting about work and asking me how I’ve been feeling. “I can take you home?” he suggests when he cuts the engine. I’m staring up at his big house, worrying my lip as I contemplate what will happen beyond that door.

I shake my head softly. There is absolutely nothing stopping me from enjoying a night with this man. It’s not my usual style. I like to date a little first before I become intimate, but I’ve quickly learned that London is nothing like home and one-night-stands are pretty common. “I want to come in.” What’s bothering me is Mr Carson-Ivory’s request. He didn't want me to leave with Matteo, and that small plea had me secretly wishing he had fought to drive me home himself. “However, you're a guest at the hotel and—”

“Not entirely.” He laughs. “Your boss and I go way back. As you can see, I live fairly close to the hotel. I can’t say I haven’t crashed at one of his hotels every now and then. He called a favour in with you.” He’s referring to when he came to check me over when I fainted.

“Okay. I’m not really sure why. He and I don’t really see eye to eye.”

Matteo gives a deep laugh, and I smirk. “Honestly, if you worked under me, I’d be pretty pissed off too,” he muses, his eyes twinkling.

“Why?” I pull back, perturbed.

Matteo reaches over the console and tucks my hair around his finger. His eyes are full of heat, and it makes my stomach knot with excitement. “Excuse me for being so blunt here, but you’re fucking gorgeous.” His eyes then drop to my legs, and his hand follows—his finger draws a dainty circle on my knee. “You’ve got incredible legs,” he hums, “and they look particularly good in heels, and it’d piss me off having to work around someone I couldn’t have.” I’m not even sure I understand where he is going with this. Is he saying he wishes he was in Cain’s position? Swallowing, I stare at him, trying to read between his words. He’s got narrow lips, and I quickly compare them to my boss’s fuller ones before shaking the thought away. Cain Carson-Ivory needs to get out of my head. “Lauren, nothing will happen that you don't want to do. We can just share a drink and get to know one another.” He’s facing me fully in his seat, and I blink a look up at him, nod, and he unclips my belt, freeing me up. “Last chance. Do you want me to take you home?”

I shake my head, and DeLuca’s face splits into a wide smile. I grin back as he exits the car, and I meet him out on the side of the road before walking to his door. My heart picks up, and I look around, feeling a little self-conscious in such a well-to-do area. This is nothing like where I live. I can’t see a scrap of rubbish on the road, and even the path seems somehow cleaner. My eyes zero in on a sleek car near the end of the road. Is that? It can’t be. Surely lots of people have that car. My gut begins to twist up in knots. I narrow my eyes, trying to focus and gauge whether the silhouette behind the wheel is, in fact, my boss or someone else, when Matteo’s hand lands on my lower back. Cain’s roughly spoken ‘Don’t’ rings through my skull, and I almost ask that Matt take me home. Being here feels wrong. Not because I don't feel safe, but because I want it to be someone else's hand on my back.

The things Matteo mentioned in the car start filtering in and slot into place. Cain is attracted to me. That's why he is giving me such a hard time and why he is always so short-tempered around me. That's what DeLuca was alluding to, wasn’t it? Matteo walks us in, and I’m too dumbfounded by this revelation to initially acknowledge the interior of his home. He takes my hand, drawing me farther into the house. It’s a modern and elegant townhouse. Original features are smoothened into the decor by contemporary art and furnishings.

“Your home is beautiful,” I say, trailing my hand along a sideboard.

“And now I have one more beautiful thing in my home,” he murmurs behind me.

“I’m a thing now, am I?” I smile.

“You're a thing that's been on my mind a lot.”

“I see.” Who would have thought this gorgeous doctor would be attracted to me? I always felt I was pretty, but plain. Not someone to make you look twice, but enough to look at. I’ve had boyfriends before, but Matteo is very much a man—a hot man—but he is no Cain.

Cain is something else entirely. I should leave.

“Would you like a drink, Lauren?”

I chew my lip, and when I look up, he is staring at me expectantly and kindly. “Please.”

Matteo walks us down to a stunning kitchen. I watch his back retreat, mentally at war with myself. Nothing can ever happen with my boss, not to mention I signed a document adhering to his non-fraternisation policy. His friend may have alluded to Cain finding me attractive, but I’ve learnt that can be a fickle thing. At least for a little while, here with Matteo, I can enjoy his flirtation.

“Oh wow, this is—” I look around, trying to find the right word. “I love it.” The units are a deep, dark midnight blue, with brass fixtures and chandeliers.

“I recently updated it.”

“Well, your taste is spot on,” I hum.

“Glad you think so.” Matteo moves around his kitchen, pulling down two glasses and selecting a wine from the well-stocked fridge. “White okay for you?” I hope he isn’t banking on my being as sophisticated as him. I’m beginning to feel a little overwhelmed in his big house.

“That's great, thanks.” I take the glass and a healthy gulp.

“You seem nervous,” he observes.

“A little. I was on my way home not half an hour ago, and now I’m here.” I laugh and silently plead with a look that he will be patient with me. It’s been a while since I was approached by anyone, and I can’t say I’m overly experienced. My last relationship was more than three months ago, and although things weren’t perfect, I was happy, and we were looking to buy a house. We were engaged. Until her. Being cheated on with your best friend is a sure way to make you doubt yourself and wreck a three-year relationship.

“Lauren. Nothing has to happen, nothing you’re not ready for.” Matteo takes my hand and lifts it to kiss my palm. “Come with me.” Nervousness fizzes in my stomach and muddles my brain, but it’s someone else's face in my mind.

“Is that on the list for later, or can we schedule that in for another time?” I garble.

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