Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
P HOEBE SURVIVED THE first three days without major incident. Barely. Edoardo Benedetti had taken over the boardroom as his office. Which meant George was working in there too. Which meant she was in there more often than not. Yes, working in the same space as Edo was totally a problem but she was determined to pretend it wasn’t. She was ferocious in her intention to detail, put in long hours pre-empting the needs not just for George, but Edo too. No way was she letting him wish he could restructure her out of a job but feeling handcuffed by the fact they’d had a one-afternoon stand. She would be perfect. Irreplaceable. Her presence might be an inconvenience to him, but too bad. She kept her eyes locked on whatever was right in front of her and ensured that was almost never him. She desperately tried not to remember those moments when he’d grabbed her hand and glared at the ring she’d bought in part because of him . It was too ironic.
But their agreed rules had to work, they had to be enough. She had no choice. Had he thought she could just walk away from her job? He had no idea of her reality. And she’d certainly had no idea of his. Not the wealth, not the power, the connections. But she knew his body, his scent and couldn’t stop herself seeing so much despite rarely looking at him directly. He worked with savage efficiency, with a level of focus that made her irrationally angry.
Though she still slept like the dead, she woke feeling more tired than before. He was the last thing she thought of and the first thing when she woke. Her body hummed even when she was beneath an ice-cold shower and clamped every urge down. It was exhausting .
‘Is everything okay, Phoebe?’ George asked in a low tone. ‘You’re very quiet.’ He glanced towards the window and frowned. Edo was standing out in the corridor talking with an analyst. ‘You know you’re not to worry, I’ve insisted he keep you in your current position.’
Phoebe inwardly grimaced. The last thing she wanted was George putting pressure on the man to retain her. But the older man watched her with astute sharpness. ‘He’s very highly regarded in the industry. He’s achieved phenomenal success in only a decade, you can trust him to do a good job with this.’
Oh, she was bitterly sure Edo was fantastic at his job. He seemed to be fantastic at everything. Even though she shouldn’t, she couldn’t resist curiosity. ‘It’s not his family company?’
George shook his head. ‘I think his grandfather headed an investment firm but that’s a separate entity. You can find out more in Milan.’
‘Sorry?’ She blinked. Milan?
‘I want you to accompany me to the meeting there on Wednesday,’ George added. ‘I know it’s late notice, but it would be helpful to have you there.’
Instant excitement at the prospect of returning to Italy kicked. But for safety’s sake she should say no. Except she liked George, and if his health wasn’t all that, she didn’t want to do anything to stress him, and her latent pleaser elements were hard to shake. So she didn’t formulate her refusal in time.
‘I’m just checking Phoebe’s ability for Milan, Edoardo,’ George raised his voice.
Phoebe turned to see Edo had walked back in. For the first time in days, she looked him right in the eyes. His held a gleam that shouldn’t be there.
‘It would be helpful if you’re able to come, Phoebe,’ he said softly.
Surely there was no double entendre in that statement—she was only hearing it because of her own gutter-dwelling mind. ‘I can come.’
‘You can take the weekend there,’ George said jovially, oblivious to the undercurrents whirling around them. ‘Go see some sights.’ He turned to Edo. ‘Phoebe loves Italy. She had the holiday of a lifetime there just before starting here.’
Phoebe shrivelled inside. She suspected George had picked up on her cool interactions with Edo and was trying to foster common ground between them. If only he knew.
‘The holiday of a lifetime? Wow,’ Edo echoed dryly. ‘What was so good about it, Phoebe? Did you meet some friendly locals?’
She couldn’t look away from him, there was a vestige of that sly humour he’d shown that day—and there was all the challenge.
‘It was the scenery that was spectacular, more than the people,’ she countered calmly.
‘Oh?’ His eyebrows arched. ‘You appreciate nice scenery.’
‘Yes.’
His mouth almost curved. ‘There’s much more than scenery to be experienced in Milan. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.’
He knew she’d not been to Milan. And now she definitely wasn’t going to let her feelings for him get in the way of her going. ‘I’m quite sure I will.’
‘Marvellous,’ George said.
Phoebe smiled weakly, feeling instant regret at the wolfish expression in Edo’s eyes.
She’d go on this trip and then she would find another job.
* * *
The next morning, she arrived as early as usual only to find George had yet to make an appearance, while Edo was already eyeball-deep in reports, looking like he’d been there for hours. Suited, clean-shaven, focused. Pure billionaire boss on duty. She’d looked up his company online and died when she’d seen its market valuation. No wonder that magnificent vineyard was his —he needed something to spend his spare billions on.
Thankfully he disappeared from the boardroom not long after she arrived. Probably waiting for the safety net that was George. Ten minutes later there was still no George. She was hard at work on a report when a tanned strong forearm entered her view and placed a steaming coffee on her desk. She reared away from the cup as if it were a poisonous snake about to strike.
‘You don’t want coffee?’ Edo asked, eyes narrowing. ‘Black, one sugar, right?’
‘I’ve gone off it,’ she blurted, so shocked she couldn’t stop herself.
She’d been off it for a few weeks, actually. The smell was too strong and, despite her tiredness, she couldn’t bring herself to drink it.
‘Right.’ He stepped back, turning away before she could even muster a polite smile.
His withdrawal was more than physical, and instant regret— loss —hit. She could have—should have—thanked him, because she was ridiculously touched that he’d remembered how she preferred it. But he had a third coffee on that tray—one for George too—so he’d not meant anything special by getting her one. He was being polite. Making an effort to form a more normal ‘boss and personal assistant’ relationship. Except she was the personal assistant and by rights she should be bringing the coffee. Not him. She fidgeted with her pen, wishing George would hurry up and arrive because he made the perfect chaperone. But ten minutes later George phoned to tell her he was going to work from home for the day. She met Edo’s eyes as she listened to George, then ended the call. And then she couldn’t look away from him with his shirt sleeves rolled back, revealing the sun-kissed skin, the muscles. He didn’t move from where he stood at the opposite end of the room but suddenly she felt steamier than if she’d been in an endless hot yoga class and knew she couldn’t be alone in here with him for the entire day—
‘Phoebe—’ But his phone rang just as he spoke and he swung away to answer it.
There was a series of calls in which he spoke in increasingly abrupt Italian. She had no hope of understanding a word of it. When he left the room she put her head down and with increasing desperation tried to focus. But she still kept watch for him as she had for all these days. She was so hyperaware and every other thought was inappropriate. It was unstoppable and as exhausting as it was exhilarating.
Towards the end of the day he approached her with a too controlled pace, his hands jammed in his pockets, his expression tense.
‘George can’t come with us to Milan tomorrow.’ He shoved his phone in his pocket with a vicious movement.
She froze. ‘Why not?’
‘He’s unwell. He’ll fly out as soon as he’s feeling better.’
‘Poor George,’ she mumbled awkwardly. ‘So we’ll delay our departure too?’
Edo shook his head. ‘There are meetings I must attend.’
‘I’ll wait here for George.’
Edo stared at her moodily. ‘George wants you to attend and report back to him. Seemingly, he trusts you very much.’
She stared at her keyboard, trying to hide the illicit thrill coiling inside her. She wanted to be alone with him. She’d wanted to be alone with him again for months . Having him near was torture and she couldn’t even look at him for fear he’d see the desire in her eyes. But she had to get over it—prove to herself that she could control it. That she wasn’t going to ruin her life again because of some man. Because of her own extreme reactions. She was stronger than that.
‘He’s right to,’ she muttered defiantly. ‘I’ll do a good job.’
‘We’ll leave first thing as originally planned,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ll send a car to collect you.’
She jerked up and glared at him. ‘That’s not necessary. I’m capable of getting myself to the airport.’
He inhaled sharply. ‘It’s an early flight—’
‘But—’
‘Could you not reject everything I offer?’ he snapped, glowering at the coffee still sitting—untouched—on her desk from hours ago.
She gaped at him as his phone buzzed again and he turned away with a sharp movement. Phoebe stared after him, startled by his vehemence. She hadn’t intended to be rude, but yes, she’d been cold for days. Even George had noticed the strained atmosphere. She’d had to be like that just to control herself—yet how pathetic that she couldn’t even handle him offering her a coffee.
While Edo had kept his distance, he was coping far better than her. Was that because it wasn’t as much of a nightmare for him? Was he over it already? She needed to grow some maturity. Accepting something from him might make amends. She wrote her details on a piece of paper and put it in front of him just before leaving for the day.
‘Here’s my address. I’ll be ready first thing.’ She avoided his eyes as she mumbled, ‘Thank you.’
* * *
Edoardo stared at the two-storey house with grim, unwanted fascination. The property was tidy but cramped. There was no front garden and he doubted there’d be more than a little courtyard that probably never saw the sun out the back. The place seemed too grey for the sensual woman who’d splashed in the water that day back home.
He glanced at his watch and watched the door. He had the suspicion that George had contrived this unfortunate situation that meant he would be travelling alone with Phoebe. It was obvious that things were cool between them and maybe George thought they’d hash out a better working relationship on this trip. Hell, the old man had confided that Phoebe wasn’t smiling as much as she usually did, and that he was concerned she was stressed about the restructure. There was no way Phoebe would have said anything to George, but something about her brought out the old man’s protective instincts. Whereas it was Edo’s predatory instincts that she fully engaged.
She was extremely good at her job. Once past that water moment in that meeting, she’d been focused, detail-oriented, ruthlessly proper. No smile. No banter. It was business and only business, and rightly so. He could see why George raved about her. It wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t stop thinking about her in every inappropriate way imaginable and at all times. But he had to suck up his impulses, especially when she was clearly—determinedly—keeping her distance. She couldn’t even bring herself to drink the coffee he’d bought for her. He’d almost lost it. Almost tossed every ounce of control away to hold her, kiss her, make her admit she felt it too.
He needed Felipe back. Badly. Because he couldn’t go on like this much longer. He would lose control.
The front door opened and he watched her walk towards the car. She was wearing another grey-suit-white-blouse combination, and her face was drawn and pale, as if she hadn’t slept well. He knew that feeling. He missed the long navy sundress that deepened the colour of her jewel-like eyes. He missed the fire and challenge she’d sent his way that day. Her spirit had been leeched from her. Because of him.
‘You should have messaged that you were here,’ she said as she got into the back seat beside him.
‘I was early.’ He’d been nosy. He kept the partition between his driver and them down, so they weren’t ‘alone’, but he was increasingly irritated by the way she never looked him in the eyes. Even now she had her head bent, reading from her tablet, informing him of updates he’d already skimmed, with impeccable politeness and efficiency. He wanted to throw the damned thing out the window. He didn’t. He said nothing. Didn’t move. It was sheer relief to arrive at the airport.
‘You don’t have a private jet?’ she murmured as they followed the crowds into the commercial terminal.
He absolutely did, but there was no way he’d be using it today. He would not be locked in a cabin alone with Phoebe for three hours. Look at what had happened the last time they’d had time alone together.
‘This is better for the planet,’ he said brusquely.
To the astonishment of his assistants in Italy, he’d spent half the evening requesting all the travel plans be amended, but as they boarded the plane he realised he’d made a massive mistake. The problem with flying commercial—even first class—was that the seats were too close together, and this wasn’t a huge aircraft. Plus, it was full—so he couldn’t take himself off to the other end of the plane. Couldn’t lock himself in the facilities either. He was going to be stuck right next to her. For hours.
The stewardess offered snacks and he snatched up the distraction, needing something salty to match his mood. Especially when he watched Phoebe pick out a plump green olive from the miniature antipasto selection and pop it into her mouth.
‘What?’ She shot him a questioning look as he glared at her.
‘I didn’t think you liked olives,’ he gritted.
She paused, the next olive halfway to her lips. ‘I changed my mind.’
When? Why? Because she’d not wanted his olives and he was absurdly put out by the fact. But worse was the torture of watching her nibble on them now. He was jealous of an olive . It was ludicrous. But he ached to take her hand and lick the brine from her fingers and he totally would— if he wasn’t her boss .
Now he wanted to rage around the aeroplane like a toddler throwing a tantrum, because he couldn’t sit still this long. He gripped the arm rest as they took off.
‘Are you a nervous flier?’ she asked awkwardly.
‘I’m fine,’ he snapped.
To his ever-mounting outrage she then curled away from him. A moment later she’d promptly fallen asleep. Sure, it had been an early flight but really ? How could she possibly fall asleep so quickly and easily? She clearly wasn’t troubled by desire, not bothered by their physical closeness…whereas he was increasingly unable to function for thinking about her. He’d thought she’d been distracted too—hell, she’d been avoiding him so much he’d thought it obvious. But now he was jealous as hell. And concerned. Her neck looked uncomfortable in the contorted way she was hunched. He wanted to pull her close so he could cushion her head and she could rest more comfortably. So he could feel her warm weight on him. He didn’t of course. Touching her would be inappropriate. He’d maintain his distance—he’d been doing it a whole week already, hadn’t he? Even if it was killing him. So then he was reduced to watching her sleep. Like an obsessive. But why was she so tired? Hadn’t she slept well last night?
He’d paced for hours. Taken a cold shower well past the wrong side of midnight to douse his head and drown the memories that tormented him more and more. It hadn’t worked.
He gritted his teeth for the entire flight. She didn’t rouse when the imminent landing announcement was made over the plane’s intercom system. Edo rolled his shoulders but couldn’t ease his tension. He ought to wake her and there was only one way he wanted to do that— if he wasn’t her boss . But he was her boss. So he’d behave accordingly.
‘Phoebe…’ he murmured and leaned nearer. ‘Phoebe.’
She blinked, slightly dazed. Her face was so close to his and lightly flushed, and her blue eyes were luminous and warm and he was lost in them again instantly. She was just luscious and he needed a white flag. He’d give anything to kiss her right now. He sank lower, nearer.
‘I’m sorry.’ She tensed in embarrassment and he stilled, sitting back. ‘I didn’t fall asleep on you, did I?’ Her breathing quickened. ‘Didn’t drool?’
He couldn’t smile as he shook his head. He wanted her sleeping on him. He wanted her drooling over him. Something had to change. If it weren’t for the promise he’d made George, he’d back out of the deal or sell on Scott Insurance—he had other, better targets on his list. But he couldn’t do that to the old guy. And he couldn’t let his loss of self-control force him into such drastic action.
* * *
The second they got to the hotel, he made a beeline for the concierge to ensure that their rooms were as far apart as possible. Different floors. He didn’t even want to know which floor hers was on. There was no need to make temptation all the more difficult to resist. He spoke in Italian, not wanting her to know how perilous his self-control was. Then he turned back to her and broke into English.
‘You have time for lunch and a rest before the first meeting this afternoon,’ he said curtly. ‘I will see you in the meeting room ten minutes ahead of the start time.’
He walked away before he saw the room key the receptionist handed to her. He went up to his room and stripped out of his suit. A shower wasn’t going to cut it. He’d go use the hotel pool and thrash out a few miles.
He was just setting down his towel at the back of the pool area when she walked in. She didn’t see him and he ducked behind a pillar—cursing his childishness—but he couldn’t be in this pool with her. Couldn’t bear to remember the last time they’d been in a body of water together. Yes, now his descent was complete. He was hiding . Worse than that, he was now watching her like some sick voyeur. But he couldn’t actually move as she dropped her towel and walked to the edge of the pool.
A bikini. Blue. Heaven help him. He stared like some deranged stalker with no self-control as she slowly stepped down the stairs into the water. The image echoed the one from months ago—he remembered those exact slow steps she’d taken into the shallow edge of the pond. He remembered her laughing squeal at the temperature of the water.
She’d been naked that day, while that jaw-dropping bikini covered deeply personal parts now. But every inch of her body was so ingrained on his memory, he noted the subtle differences—her breasts seemed more full and her skin was so radiant, he could see her gleaming even from here. She was a willowy, tall blonde—more slender than curvaceous—only that wasn’t quite the case now. There was a softness about her, definitely a slight curve to her lower belly that hadn’t been there before. It was as if she’d blossomed like some goddess of fertility—all rich curves in deeply feminine places.
No, to coffee. Yes, to olives.
The thought hit randomly. Her different tastes . Then another thought hit so hard, his brain halted entirely.
* * *
Phoebe really needed to get a grip. She had no idea how she’d endured that flight—having him so near, breathing in his scent, feeling his warmth. She’d had to turn away, close her eyes and feign sleep. Until she’d suddenly and completely fallen asleep—that terrible exhaustion overtaking her again. But then he’d woken her and her heart had taken a hammering again. He’d been so close and so careful, yet she’d been certain he’d wanted to kiss her…
And now, to be back on Italian soil back beside Edo was shockingly thrilling. But he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. She’d hoped the swim would siphon some of her excess energy, but she still felt wired . She went back to her room to shower and prepare for the meetings this afternoon. She’d been back only a moment when there was a peremptory knock on her door. She frowned. She’d not ordered room service and she wasn’t due to meet Edo for another hour. She checked the peep hole. Stood back from the door and took a breath.
He knocked again. ‘I know you’re in there, Phoebe, open up.’
She opened the door fractionally and glared at him stiffly. ‘What do you want?’
They were not on work time and she couldn’t muster cool politeness this second, especially when she was clad only in a bikini and a towel.
‘Can I come in?’ he asked bluntly.
She hesitated. It was too intimate. ‘I’m not dressed for company.’
‘Please, Phoebe. It’s important.’
The hard light in his eyes told her he meant it. What had happened to the ‘public meetings with other people present’ rule? But she stepped back, tightening her grip on the towel. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Maybe, I’m not sure.’ He stood in the centre of her small room.
He dwarfed the space and she became horribly conscious that her bed was only a foot away from him. She braced by the door and waited for him to elaborate.
An irritated expression flickered on his face as he turned away from the bed. ‘This room is tiny.’
It was undeniably small, had a dingy view of the car park and was situated a little too close to the gym, so there was a lot of foot traffic. But she’d refused to be disappointed. She was back in Italy on a free trip. But she bet he wasn’t in a shoe-box-sized room with sound-proofing issues.
He frowned as a loud ding sounded in the room. ‘You’re too near the lift.’
She stared as he rubbed the back of his neck and suddenly cursed.
‘Edo—’
‘Is there any chance you’re pregnant?’ he suddenly growled.
She reeled and took a step back. ‘What?’
‘Is there any chance you’re pregnant?’ he repeated. ‘I realise this is awkward. But I wondered—’
‘Why would you think that?’ She was so shocked, she laughed.
‘Because, if you are, there’s a chance it might be my business. So if you could just answer—’
‘You’re crazy …’
‘It’s a yes-no question, Phoebe.’ He stepped closer. ‘Or is there the possibility?’
She was too astounded to even think. ‘This is a total violation of my privacy.’
‘And you’re prevaricating.’ He seized her shoulders. ‘Why?’
‘I’m not prevaricating. I’m just shocked you’d even think—’
‘So you definitely know you’re definitely not pregnant?’ he reiterated, bending urgently towards her. ‘You can swear on your life?’
She stared into his widened eyes. ‘Why would you think I am?’
He dropped his hands and stepped back from her. ‘You don’t like coffee any more. You do like olives.’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘You’re glowing. Your skin is radiant.’
What the actual hell? Was he noticing her skin ? ‘Maybe it’s my new moisturiser—’
‘No,’ he interrupted shortly. ‘I saw you in the pool just before. Your belly is—’
She gaped. ‘Are you seriously commenting on the roundness of my stomach?’
He froze then lifted his chin and looked her directly in the eye. ‘Yes.’
‘Maybe I’m bloated. Maybe I ate too much bread on the flight this morning—’
‘You didn’t have bread on the flight this morning.’
A rush of panic rose within her because she didn’t want to consider what he was suggesting. ‘You’re monitoring my eating habits? You realise you’re bordering on creep territory.’
‘Yes, and I’m sorry, but I notice you!’ he exploded. ‘I can’t help it. I can’t stop it. I notice. Everything .’
She was silenced by the wild light in his eyes. By the fierce response that rose within her at his admission. Because she noticed him too. She was deeply aware of his every move and she was fiercely glad it was the same for him, even though it was madness.
‘You want to know what else I’ve noticed?’ He stepped closer again.
She couldn’t move as he pulled the towel from her loose fingers and left her standing in only her bikini. She felt as intimate and exposed as if it were lace lingerie.
His breathing deepened. His voice roughened. His gaze dropped. And just like that her body responded. The weakness within—heat melting while other parts tightened. Aching for attention.
‘These…’ he touched her with the lightest finger. Crossing the boundary they’d agreed on. ‘These are bigger.’
And so sensitive. They were already straining for more of his touch. She was turned on in a second—her taut nipples aching for him. She bit back her moan. This was forbidden but also what she’d wanted for so long.
‘Something’s changed, Phoebe.’ He pressed his hand back to her lower belly.
She shuddered, shocked again by the mad question he’d asked her. ‘I’ve gained a little weight, that’s all…’
Because it couldn’t be possible. It just couldn’t be possible. But then she felt the fluttering deep in her belly—butterflies, right? She stilled. Inwardly focused on that strangest of sensations.
‘Phoebe?’
She hardly heard him. She was so focused on that tiny feeling inside. She’d felt it last night just before she’d fallen asleep. Thought it was nerves about the trip today. But maybe it wasn’t? No. Surely not. And she’d had her period since Italy, right?
But only the one, now she thought about it. And it had been oddly light even for her. And since then she’d been so busy at work, she’d lost track of time…
She stared at him in mounting horror. ‘We used protection.’
The rise and fall of his chest quickened. ‘Protection that you provided.’
‘It was a gift. You know that.’ She vented. ‘And like I’d…’
She trailed off because his hand was still on her lower belly and he possessively spread his palm wider—ignoring her outrage, which now faded anyway, because she was desperately trying to just think . Could he feel those flutterings? Surely they weren’t anything. Surely this was all just in her head.
‘No other possibilities since?’ he asked hoarsely. ‘Don’t tell me that’s not relevant to this situation.’
There were these flutterings again.
Nerves. Just nerves . But there was the maths that wasn’t adding up—the dates weren’t working out the way they should.
His face paled. Then he pulled a box out of his pocket. ‘Why not find out for sure.’
Her face felt like it was on fire. ‘You’ve already bought a pregnancy test?’ She quietly died inside. ‘When did you do that?’
‘At the pharmacy downstairs about five minutes ago. I saw you at the pool. I’d had the same idea to burn off some energy.’
He needed to burn energy too?
She took the box from him with shaking hands. ‘Two lines is trouble, right?’ Her mouth was so dry.
‘Will you let me see the result?’ he asked.
She was stunned he’d asked that. And it just showed how little they really knew each other. ‘Of course.’
She’d barely left the bathroom a few minutes later when the result began to appear. She put the test on the table between them and stared down at it.
Pregnant .
‘How could you not have known ?’ He released a rush of air. ‘Is it mine?’
Sudden and absolute rage consumed her. She whirled to get away from him before she did something violent only he stepped forward and spun her back, pulling her close to him.
‘Phoebe!’ He growled. ‘Is. It. Mine?’
She was so stunned to be pressed against him she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t stand the surge of desire that literally stopped her heart. She stared up at him, outraged and overwhelmed. Emotion leeched her brain power. She was tempted to lie. To deny him. But she was too out of control to have a hope of deception.
‘Of course it is,’ she answered angrily —wounded . She put her hands on his chest and pushed him hard in the hope he would release her. He did. So quickly that she almost stumbled back.
He stared after her. Appalled . He couldn’t make his horror any more apparent. Well, ditto.
She marched to the door. ‘You need to leave.’ She needed time alone to think, respond, plan.
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
She spun back to face him. ‘Yeah, well I don’t want to talk about this right now.’
‘Then what do you want to talk about?’ He stalked towards her. ‘Work?’
All the frustration that had coalesced over the week morphed into a rush of primal force that couldn’t be denied. ‘I don’t want to talk at all,’ she snapped. ‘I’m not in the mood.’
The ferocious energy coiling inside her needed an out. She was furious. It was more than four months since they’d been together in Italy. Which meant she must be more than four months’ pregnant, and her baby would come sooner rather than later and that was—
No. She slammed on the brakes. She couldn’t think about it. At all. Not all the ramifications or complications of the total nightmare that was this situation. Every emotion overwhelmed her. It was too much. She wouldn’t think at all. She just wanted to forget. To feel better for just five minutes.
And there was a fire in his eyes that was utterly dangerous. Utterly undeniable. He took another three steps. Stopped an inch too close. An inch too far. He slammed his hands on the door either side of her head. Sensual force emanated from him, impacting her even more. Her body was already aflame and the primal edginess in his tense stance, in the sharpened angles of his beautiful face, in the wildness of his eyes—destroyed her.
She couldn’t even breathe as he demanded, ‘So what are you in the mood for?’