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He was wrong, but I nodded politely. “Okay. Of course. I’ll speak to Loria.”

God, he was so competitive. To the point of making up a phone call just so he’d seem busier than me. I ignored the fact that I had also made up a busy schedule just to get him away from Loria, when I was actually just going back to the office after this.

And Lipa had seemed surprised about him having a sudden private appointment in the middle of a workday, so I supposed that answered my earlier question. No impromptu nooners for Nuni.

Chapter Five

Nuni

I ’ve changed my mind. The Blackgrass won’t work.

I stared at the email I’d just sent, having no fucking clue why I’d sent it.

I’d got my way. I’d won. And I wasn’t even sure why I was still thinking about it at eleven o’clock at night when I should’ve been asleep. I was very strict with making sure I got enough sleep. Most of my exes had hated it, because it meant early dinners and wrapping up a lot of our evening plans by ten. One of them had even called me a grandpa, which had made me scoff and let her know that a lot of work and dedication went into looking this good.

I may have also booked an emergency facial the next day, just in case I was actually starting to look old.

Setting my phone down on the nightstand, I rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. Then I reached for my phone again to check the time. 11.08 p.m. If I didn’t go to sleep soon, I’d be all puffy tomorrow. My skin always looked terrible if I didn’t get enough sleep. And tomorrow was back and chest day, which meant I could not be tired if I wanted to bench my usual amount.

Just go to sleep. Stop wondering if she’s already read it. Stop caring whether she thinks you’re a flake. You’re in CHARGE. You can be as flaky as you want.

It should’ve been long gone from my mind by now—decision made, something ticked off the list, time to move on and focus on more important things.

But I’d sent the email now. It was out there. And I couldn’t go back on it or I’d look like a total dick.

Except… I could reluctantly admit that maybe, possibly, Anita had been right. The room hadn’t looked big enough for what we had in mind. And it’d been a little boring.

Plus they didn’t allow open flames, so no flaming shots. Not that I actually wanted flaming shots—of course I didn’t. That wasn’t classy. I was classy.

Once again, I reached for my phone and squinted as the bright screen illuminated my dark bedroom. All this blue light wasn’t good for my eyes or my sleep cycle. I had to just let it go and deal with whatever came of it in the morning.

But as I opened my emails yet again, my stomach dipped—reminding me to text my nutritionist—when I saw that Anita had replied.

Dear Mr var Rorik, it began, keeping the tone professional even though my hastily fired off email hadn’t contained any greeting or sign-off. That’s no problem. Fortunately I haven’t called Loria yet to book the venue.

I narrowed my eyes at that. She seemed like the type to get things done quickly, so the fact that she’d delayed calling Loria might have meant she’d been planning to try and talk me out of the Blackgrass for the event. That kind of made me want to backtrack and insist that it would work.

I’ve actually compiled a short list of other venues that I believe might be suitable. I’ve included it below. Do let me know if any of these pique your interest. Some of these will also allow you to expand your guest list, if you are interested in inviting more people.

Ballroom at the Basalt Hotel, 51st Street – max capacity 400, 300 comfortable with seating

Alluvium Nightclub, Pitch District – max capacity 600, flaming shots on menu so allows open flames

The Marl Gallery, 67th Street – max capacity 300 across two available rooms

Feldspar Conference Centre, Rundin Street – max capacity 350, 250 comfortable with seating

We’ve worked with all of these venues before, so there will be no problem getting us in swiftly for viewings. Personally, I think the Basalt’s ballroom would work exceptionally well.

I look forward to your response,

Anita

My ears fluttered against the pillow at the mention of flaming shots. Anita had a mild snarky streak, it seemed. Was she ever going to let that go? It hadn’t even been my idea!

A nightclub could be cool, though. And the ballroom at the Basalt was pretty nice—I’d been to countless events there. And yes, out of the two of us, I knew that Anita was technically the expert, but I found myself quickly typing out a response.

None of those will work. We didn’t design them.