Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
It was strange to think that three years ago, I was living in California and that Roman was just a dating app acquaintance slash unrealistic crush who lived in London. Most rational people would admit that the distance alone made us a long shot, but we’d clicked on every level. Until we met.
One bad date followed by drunken karaoke and an unplanned sleepover later could have changed things for the worse, but it proved to be the beginning of something bigger than either of us could have imagined. I fell head over heels in love with the handsome man with thick armor and a kind heart. I wanted forever, and unbelievably, Roman felt the same way.
I hadn’t thought twice about upending my life and schlepping my stuff across the globe to be with Roman. And marrying him later that same year was the second-easiest decision I’d ever made.
We had a great life in London. We owned a fabulous flat with killer views of the city, had a great group of friends, and bonus—we both liked our jobs.
Mine was basically the same gig with a location change at the marketing firm I’d worked for in LA…with a bigger office. Roman’s industrial engineering firm, on the other hand, was in the midst of a huge influx of business. He’d recently signed a contract with a Toronto-based company that was too lucrative to pass up. He’d wanted to, though.
Roman had been leery of taking on an overseas project even though Toronto was his hometown. Neither of us wanted to do the long-distance thing again, but I’d encouraged him to accept the contract. He had people he trusted in Canada to manage the job, so his presence wouldn’t be necessary on a day-to-day basis. And when it was necessary for him to travel, he could visit his family. He didn’t talk about it much, but I knew he missed them.
I had every intention of joining him on his trips home, but this one was a last-minute emergency and a weeklong overseas holiday wasn’t in the cards for me at the moment. I was busy helping my firm—Masterson, Barnaby, and Klein—launch a new ad campaign for a prominent sportswear company that’d teamed up with a football superstar. For the record, football in this case meant soccer. Or so I was told.
Not important. The point was…I had a job to do here.
My firm needed my brand of fabulous to make a ridiculously boring pair of white sneakers sound as cool as the high-top, platform Skechers with the yellow-and-green neon laces I’d saved birthday and holiday money to buy circa 1991. Not an easy feat, but I’d done it. The campaign was off to a great start in the UK and was set to take off in Europe before launching in the US as well.
We were nearing the finish line, but there were always unforeseen complications—not to mention, high-profile interviews and photo shoots to coordinate.
In fact, I really needed to wrap up this phone call with Maxi ’cause I had an interview with a freelance fashion journalist who’d been commissioned to write a story for British Vogue in two minutes.
“Aww, he’ll be chuffed to be home too. I’ll leave you lovebirds alone,” Maxi purred. “Let’s plan something for the weekend instead, yeah? I’ll get Scott to bring his new man. You and Roman haven’t met Theo yet, and we must fix that.”
“Sounds nice, but—”
“Fab. I’ll ring you later this week with a plan. Ciao for now, love!”
She disconnected the call before I could respond. Just as well—it was showtime. I straightened my collar and skirted my desk to join my boss, who was waiting for me in the conference room.
Margo Klein spared me a brief glance over her fashionable reading glasses, then continued typing away on her laptop. “You’re prepared?”
“Of course,” I assured her, resisting the urge to wiggle in my seat like a manic five-year-old.
I couldn’t help it. Margo made me nervous. Outwardly, she was the epitome of British cool. She was an effortlessly stylish and impeccably professional middle-aged marketing maestro with short raven hair and intense blue eyes. She could intimidate without uttering a word—a raised eyebrow and a cool stare did the trick every time.
“Excellent.” She closed her computer and swiveled to face me. “I needn’t remind you this is an important interview. You know the script and the product. Ms. Fitzroy will most likely address the footballer’s storied career. You won’t need to add content. Just stick to analytics and trends.”
“Got it.” I checked my watch. “What time is she expected?”
“Carter is escorting Ms. Fitzroy in now. I’ll introduce you and leave you to it. Do you have any questions?”
“Uh…no. I’ve got this.” I flashed a grin and a thumbs-up her way.
“Good.” Her tepid smile blossomed into something infinitely more welcoming when Carter knocked on the conference door and announced our new arrival a moment later. “Ah, hello, Elena. So lovely to see you again.”