21 #2
What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe it’s a nearly-thirties crisis.
Jack walks to his desk and lifts his office phone. “Jess,” he says, watching me. There’s a pause. “Rearrange the Bradshaw meeting until after lunch.”
She says something I can’t make out and he grunts in response. “Yeah, I know it’s last minute. Tell them I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” I whisper as he puts down the phone. Now I can source the largest granny bra in Canary Wharf. “And thank you for trying to protect me against the truth of what happened with my dad. You should have put me in my place.”
Those pesky butterflies are back in my stomach, stronger than ever this time, as we stare at each other.
“You’re a sweet guy, Jack Knight.”
Slowly, he smiles. “About time you realised.”
Jack
Before I’ve closed the boardroom door, Bradshaw is on his feet and scuttling towards me, shaking my hand like we’re old friends. His handshake is as limp as the rest of him.
I return the pleasantries as I scan the room. Jess has arranged it in a cinema style to focus on the big screen and the presenters.
They’re all here, seated, waiting patiently—my senior team, the Bradshaw team and the architecture firm overseeing all project phases, Nixon Lee.
My gaze connects with Bonnie’s, and I smile. I’ve done fuck all work in the few hours since our meeting. At this rate, I’ll have to put my dick in a straight jacket.
Her piercing blue eyes, normally ablaze with heat, are filled with uncertainty as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.
Damn it. Would she be this nervous if I’d kept my hands to myself?
God knows how I found the willpower to stop.
“You know the team, Jack?” Bradshaw asks. He beckons Bonnie over along with the other architect I’ve met once. Max comes over too.
“Steve.” The other architect assumes I’d forgotten his name. I had. He shakes my hand. “Good to see you again, sir.”
Bonnie steps forward. “Good to see you again.” A pause. “Sir.”
Amused, I take her hand in mine, holding on to it for longer than necessary.
Dear God, she’s breathtaking.
Now she has a bra on, thank fuck.
She pulls her hand from mine.
Max clears his throat. “Jack, I hear you needed to speak to Bonnie this morning about the brief. Is everything okay?”
“Perfect.” I look at Bonnie. “Everything’s perfect.”
Her cheeks flush.
“I’m happy to be your point of contact going forward.” Max steps forward. “Obviously, Bonnie is more than capable, but I have a holistic view of what the team’s working on. I’ll be able to direct any questions to the right person.”
I force my eyes from Bonnie and turn to Max, who has a deep frown across his face.
I almost laugh. You’re an idiot, mate. You gave up the best thing that ever happened to you for a fling with an intern.
I’ve got five years on him. I’m the one that should be hitting a midlife crisis.
“Sure, Max. Whatever is easiest for the team. Shall we get started?” I say cheerfully. It’s their lucky day, presenting to deliriously happy Jack. “I have twenty minutes. My team will handle questions after that.”
I take a seat beside the Lexington senior project managers and directly in front of Steve and Bonnie.
Steve introduces himself first and sets the scene, but my attention is on Bonnie.
As she introduces herself, her voice is strong, but it’s clear she’s trying hard to modulate her tone.
I need to calm her down. It’s my fault she’s unhinged.
“Bonnie has already gone through the designs and layout plans with me,” I tell the room. A complete lie. “They’re on track against our vision.”
I give her a private smile and a nod.
She nods back.
“A key element of the style we propose is to mix the old with the new and to bring into focus the original features. The factory’s most iconic features are, of course, its four slender three-hundred-foot chimneys.
Each will be restored with viewing platforms added at the top.
” She clicks through a series of visual designs to bring home the concept.
I’m impressed. It’s a little rough but has a lot of potential.
She relaxes as she answers questions thrown at her by the team.
I sit quietly, taking in every one of her features, every curve, every line, every smile, banking it in my mind for later.
Fucking delicious.
“Okay, moving on. I’ve worked with the interiors team to provide an example interior 3D visual,” she continues.
“Right now, one of the walls is entirely covered with graffiti by the locals. The great debate is always whether graffiti is vandalism or art. But, like it or not, it plays a significant role in our East End culture. It was and still is, a key form of expression for youths of some of the poorest areas in London. O ur proposed design fuses it in such a way that no one can ever doubt it is art.”
Her delivery is stilted, but the quality and granularity of detail is evident in her designs.
I know my eyes eating her up is off-putting, but I can’t help myself.
She pauses to take a deep breath. “With local street artists telling the story of the East End through the decades from when the factory was built, the art alone will make it a destination.”
Christ, I wonder if she’s still not wearing panties.
I place my laptop strategically over my lap.
“Moving onto the apartments themselves, they’ll be located on the site of the original factory, positioned directly beside the Thames.
We’ll incorporate watery reflections, wild grasses and marshland vistas inside, in natural colour palettes and woody, earthy textiles and fittings. As you can see here.”
It’s taking all my control to not kick everyone out of the room and finish the job I started.
As she answers a question from Sean, her eyes flit to the laptop balanced on my lap, then up to my face.
The flush flaming her cheeks tells me she knows exactly what I’m thinking. She gives me a warning look as her voice falters.
I read it loud and clear. Fucking behave yourself, Knight.
I wink. Sorry, darlin’, we’ve come too far for that now.
She averts her gaze to Steve as he talks through the final part of the presentation.
Max stands up. “Are there any more questions?”
Everyone looks at me.
“He didn’t ask any questions. Is that good or bad?” someone mutters behind me, followed by a panicked shush.
I clear my throat. “It’s a start. Get ready to present the questions the guys asked by the end of the week. Jess, can you find another thirty-minute slot in my diary?”
Jess nods dutifully. “Sure, Jack.” Unfortunately for her, she’ll probably spend sixty minutes trying to find thirty minutes.
“Seriously, is that good or bad?”
I crane my neck to see the loud whisperer behind me. He stares back, horrified.
“If you’re asking the question, perhaps you shouldn’t be on the project. I’m not looking for good. I’m looking for extraordinary. Think you can manage that?”
“Uh.” Loud Whisperer goes completely still. “ Yes ?”
“Jack,” Jess cuts in, in the tone she uses to tell me I’m late.
“Yes, Jess.” I wave my hand. “Let’s wrap it up.”
I stand, and everyone follows suit.
“We’ll send over the conceptual designs by close of day,” Max says. “The minor adjustments will be included, and the rest will follow by Friday.”
“Great.” I anchor my attention back on Bonnie, who looks one thousand times more relaxed now. “Let’s do drinks tonight. I’ll reserve an area in my hotel next door. It’ll give the two teams a chance to get to know each other. Obviously, it’s on Lexington.”
I’m telling Bonnie. The rest can take it or leave it.
They’ll all take it.
“In Maggie’s,” I add, and the energy in the room rises.
Not surprising. The name is deceiving. It’s a nod to my amazing nan. Maggie’s has been named the sexiest bar in the world for four years running. As it is also the most exclusive, most people don’t get the chance to experience its sexiness.
“Wonderful idea. We’ll all be there,” Bradshaw says, puffing out his chest.
Max leans into me. “Jack, are we on track? Is this in line with what you are looking for?”
“Yes,” I say, my gaze lingering on Bonnie. “Yes, we are definitely on track.”