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“I made dinner reservations for you and Natalie Simmons.”
My eyebrows raise. Who?
Seeing the confusion on my face, he says, “The designer for Modelz and Co. They have a new self-tan out that has some ‘staying-power technology’ they claim they invented. It’s the number one fake tanning brand on the market at the moment.”
“Then why do they need us?”
“They’re currently with Prime Media.”
I smirk. “Ah, that’s making more sense.” I pause, then add. “Did we fuck?”
He sputters, pushing up his glasses as his cheeks redden slightly. “I don’t know, sir. It’s a possibility.”
I sigh. “I think I’ll send Timothy.”
“Sir?”
Even if she is cute, I’m not sitting around discussing fake tanning with a woman I probably already fucked and then there will be questions why I never called. It’s not personal, I’m just not very good at remembering important shit like that. Plus, I’ve rarely met a woman that I want to see more than once. Unless it’s Élégance.
“You’re right. I should send Deidre. She’ll keep the meeting strictly business. Good idea. Rearrange it and send my apologies.”
He nods, standing to leave. “Would you like me to arrange Sergio for dinner?”
Sergio is my chef. He comes into my home and cooks a few times a week, leaving leftovers in the freezer. I’m a busy man. While I like the idea of cooking a meal in my designer kitchen, I have nobody to cook for. When me and my friends eat, we go out.
There are a lot of amazing restaurants around London, and I own three of them.
“That won’t be necessary, Jared. I’ll pick something up on the way home.”
“Just a reminder that you have a conference call in thirty minutes with Luca from the New York office,” he says as he leaves.
“Where would I be without you?” I call after him.
“Definitely not on time,” he calls back.
I gather my papers and roll the chair back.
Another day of endless meetings.
Another day of nameless faces.
Another day of going through the motions and feeling empty.
This is my life.
Chapter Two
Charlize
“Another dirty martini?” I ask the pretty blonde at the bar. She’s a regular here. Polite. Sweet. And she tips well. She’s also with a different man every time I see her. No judgement. The men treat her like she’s a queen, and why shouldn’t they? I can tell by the way she holds herself; her head held high, an exterior that exudes confidence and an independence that tells everyone she’s the one in control. I don’t know why that makes me study her whenever she frequents the bar. In fact, I wouldn’t mind having some of what she’s having.
“I’d love one, thanks, Charli.” She smiles.
We’re on a first name basis mainly because the staff here have to wear name badges, and my dorky boss even went to the lengths of adding: ‘Just call me…’ Right above our printed names. I don’t know why he tries to be hip; it just doesn’t work when you’re fifty-five, with a bad combover in the middle of a midlife crisis.
“No problem, Neve.”
It’s quiet tonight, but most weeknights aren’t all that busy.
