Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
‘What the hell did he want?’ Micky asks, strolling across the grass towards me.
‘Nothing.’ I raise my arms in the air and stretch, dead set on nailing coolness.
‘Is he bothering you?’
‘No.’
‘Then what did he want?’
‘I bumped into him, that’s all,’ I say tiredly, dropping my palms and pushing them into the ground, looking up at him. ‘It’s done with, Micky. I already told you that.’
He’s bristling like a threatened bear, but it doesn’t stop him from pushing his palm into my back. ‘Straighten your back,’ he grumbles. ‘If you’re going to stretch, do it properly.’
‘Your man-bun is wonky,’ I quip, hissing when my hamstrings burn. ‘That hurts!’
‘Quit complaining.’
I unbend and stand up straight, tossing him a dirty look. ‘Go and stretch your client.’
He frowns and looks towards the woman currently spread-eagled on the grass. ‘I’m working on it.’
I laugh. ‘Is that Charlie?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re losing your magic, Micky.’
He scoffs and loops his arm around my neck, hauling me in. ‘I am not losing my magic.’ He leads me back towards his client, roughing up my ponytail. ‘And if I ever do, you must kill me.’
‘That would be an injustice to female eyes everywhere.’
‘True,’ he agrees, releasing me when we reach his workout area. ‘Charlie, this is Annie.’
She smiles coyly, her pretty face flushing. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
‘I bet,’ I laugh, backing away. ‘I’ll leave you guys to it. I have to get to work. Nice to meet you, Charlie.’
‘And you!’
I flip Micky an approving look before turning and jogging home.
I glug back a pint of water and toss my iPod into the fruit basket before throwing the double doors open and breathing in some more air. I push my way through the leaves of the willow tree and land in the deckchair, stretching my legs while checking my phone. I have a text message from Jack. I open it quickly.
Running with a hard-on is fucking painful.
I laugh loudly and relax back in my chair, daydreaming for a few minutes as I think back over yesterday and this morning. Jack runs every morning, which means I might have to too. Will half an hour every day be part of our ongoing routine? I want to be grumpy about it, but I can’t, not when it means that 1) I’ll get to see Jack, and 2) I’ll tone up in the process. We just might have to think about where we run to avoid being seen together. I start to punch out a reply to him, but I’m interrupted halfway through my message when my phone rings.
I don’t recognise the number. ‘Annie Ryan,’ I announce when I answer.
‘Miss Ryan, my name’s Terrence Pink, CEO of Brawler’s.’
‘Oh, hello.’ I sit up straight in my chair, wondering why a world-renowned tech company would be calling little old me. ‘How can I help you?’ I’m raging with curiosity.
‘We’re expanding, building new premises, and we’ve heard your name on the grapevine. I’m hoping we could meet to discuss.’
They’ve heard of my name? ‘Of course.’ I rush into the kitchen and grab my diary. ‘When is convenient for you?’
‘The sooner the better. Today?’
I wince. My day is packed, especially after yesterday when I achieved a great big fat zero in the studio. ‘Could we do tomorrow?’
‘I’m sorry; I know it’s short notice, but we’ve already seen other people and hope to make a decision very soon so the project can move forward.’
I bite my lip and bite the bullet. This is too good an opportunity. ‘Two o’clock?’
‘Two o’clock it is. We’re floor ten, 25 Churchill Place, Canary Wharf.’
I scribble it down. ‘See you then.’ I hang up and the message I’d half typed out in reply to Jack appears on my screen.
Morning sex would remedy . . .
But I delete it instead of finishing it and sending it. Because that would just be reminding him that there will be no morning sex in this relationship, and I don’t want him to feel as grumpy as me at that notion. I pout, bringing my phone to my mouth and chewing the corner. No morning sex yet, but when? No snuggling in bed and simply being together, either. I stamp those thoughts away and run into my office ready to hit Google and research Brawler’s in preparation for the meeting.
Chapter 14
I walk into the building that houses Brawler’s, gazing around at the impressive space, not quite believing that I’m here. Everyone knows that Brawler’s is the giant in the tech world. That they dazzle with their innovative approach to marketing and development. What I didn’t know is that this project, the new offices, is a move being made after Brawler’s announced they’re launching a partnership with one of the world’s largest social media platforms. To say I’m intimidated by this meeting would be a slight understatement. But, as I’ve reminded myself countless times, while their area of expertise is tech, mine is designing buildings. And that’s what I’m here to potentially do.