Page 103 of Miss Manage

“Come in,” I called out, expecting someone with questions, updates, or paperwork.

Turned out it was Rhys. He opened his mouth for a moment but then promptly lost his train of thought.

His gaze flicked between Olivia and me before a flush crept slowly up his neck. I’d seen Olivia blush around him a number of times and knew she had a crush on him, but seeing it echoed on his face? That was new…and definitely interesting.

The tucked-away bar off the cobbled street in London looked exactly the way I remembered it from seven months ago.

Warm lights pooled across polished wood, glasses clinked in soft conversation, and the smell of leather and old-world charm permeated the air.

The last time I’d entered this place, everything in my life had been shifting beneath my feet: my career, my confidence, my sense of direction.

Now? Now I walked in certain and ready to meet with the newly acquired technology office tomorrow morning. Considering they’d been Juniper, Arrow, and now Chambers all within the same year, we had our work cut out for us.

I slipped onto the same barstool I’d claimed months ago and let the room settle around me.

And maybe smiled a little too stupidly, because I knew he was behind me before he even touched me. That warm, steady presence I’d come to recognize without looking.

But it was his voice that gave me shivers.

Gabriel

She was impossible to miss. Sitting at the far end of the bar, one heel dangling, hair falling in soft waves as she scanned the cocktail menu like she hadn’t already ordered a dirty martini. Absolutely stunning. My future. My everything.

I lingered near the column, half in shadow, letting myself take her in for one selfish beat longer. It had only been a week, yet I’d missed her terribly.

God, I was the luckiest man alive. And I couldn’t resist the game.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

She angled toward me, and just like that, my heartbeat was like a kick drum. “No, it’s not.”

I slid onto the stool beside her, signaling the bartender for a Scotch. “What brings you to London?”

She lifted her glass, the edge of her knee brushing mine. “Business trip. You?”

“A mix of business and something personal.”

One brow arched. “That sounds intriguing. Any complications that come with mixing the two?”

“Only one,” I replied, turning fully toward her.

That earned me her full, spellbound attention. “Pray tell. What’s the issue?”

“The issue,” I started, lowering my voice as if I had no business confessing it to a stranger, “is that I’m madly, deeply, hopelessly in love. And calling her my girlfriend doesn’t feel like the right label any longer.”

It wasn’t the plan to say any of this out loud, but once it slipped free, I couldn’t stop myself from nudging the line to see what she’d say. Because as much as I knew she loved me, I wondered if she’d be willing to take this next step.

She played with the olive skewer in her drink while I thanked the bartender for delivering mine. Once we were alone, she spoke again. “What label are you looking for?”

In this game the best answer would be vague. But patience wasn’t serving me in the moment.

“I was thinking something a little more permanent…like wife.”

She inhaled sharply, eyes going soft and startled all at once. My heart slammed against my ribs. This was definitely not how I’d planned any of this. I’d meant to propose somewhere meaningful. Thoughtful. Somewhere that wasn’t a bar where we were pretending not to know each other.

I dragged a hand through my hair. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but patience isn’t my strong suit. Maybe we pretend I didn’t say that and wait until I can do this properly.”

She was already shaking her head, slow and certain. “Did you not mean it?”