Chapter 1
Kimberley
The evening before...
Chloe wipes the counter where I’m sitting while I stir the straw in my virgin colada. The ice cubes in it clink against the glass.
"I just love coconut. But the sugar..." I murmur before emptying my second glass of the evening. I look at Chloe, who, grinning, knows what to do. Of course, she refills my drink so I can enjoy number three.
"Tony asked me if you live here," she says with a wink.
"Only because he’s afraid I might interrupt something between you two," I reply with a grin.
This makes her pout, but I see her purse her lips to suppress her grin. She even stops cleaning the bar, which she had resumed.
I truly feel at home here at THE M – The Midnight Lounge – in the heart of London.
Whenever I need some peace and quiet, I end up here, almost every night.
Unlike most bars and pubs, this place caters to a more upscale clientele, something you can see reflected in both the prices and the ambiance.
Jazz music drifts through the room, soft against my ears, while dark blue LED lights bathe the lounge in a calm, serene glow.
The perfect counterbalance to my stressful job search.
"He’s two years younger than me," she says defensively, her eyes fixed on the door behind the bar as she bites her lower lip.
I’ve always been jealous of those full lips.
She has the sweetest face—almond-shaped eyes, flawless skin I’d kill for.
Add her petite, athletic figure, and it’s no wonder she attracts attention from plenty of men in the bar.
Still, she only ever has eyes for Tony, who’s been chasing her since her very first day here.
Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he hired her just to win her over.
But Chloe’s been keeping him at arm’s length for four months now.
"“Young men may not have the skills, but they definitely have the energy," I tease. She clears her throat pointedly.
"And you, young lady, are sexually frustrated," she counters.
"I’m only six months younger than you," I protest, raising my glass to her. "Have fun. Life’s too short to worry about your lover’s age."
"Hear, hear. Says the one who’s been single for what feels like forever," she laughs, leaning in a little. "Once you land that new job, maybe you’ll meet someone at work?"
"Oh no, not happening! I’d never get involved with a colleague."
"Or maybe it’ll be a hot boss—straight out of one of your smutty books," she smirks.
Okay, busted. "Which I lend you," I remind her.
If Chloe was a guy, I swear half the pages would probably already be stuck together.
"Tomorrow’s interview is sure to be... hot," she whispers dramatically, wiggling her cheeks. "He’ll probably throw you on his desk and offer you a raise if you make yourself available to him," she fantasizes with theatrical flair.
"So, someone did devour that terrible book she swore she’d never touch, huh?" I shake my head, giggling.
"It’s only fiction. But in real life, you really don’t want to get involved with your boss. I mean, Tony is really cute, but..." Then she bites her lower lip again.
"You’re into him," I note, a little amused by her shocked look. "You can’t deny it."
"Too many books, my dear. You need to get back to reality. Grab one of those cute guys and let him drive you home. But not today."
"The interview isn’t until tomorrow at 11:30. A little snack between meals wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Besides, it’s still early. I look at my watch, which tells me it’s only 8:21 PM. That’s practically midday when you live in London.
“And you should be well-rested and able to walk upright without your thighs shaking.” Chloe raises a reproachful finger and then takes a customer’s order.
Not much is going on today. Typical for a Sunday evening. Last night it was packed, but most people who have jobs or the early shift won’t be here today.
But just as I finish that thought, I look toward the door where a man of exceptional class walks in. I freeze and can't take my eyes off him, so fascinated am I by his presence. He looks just like an angel.
Maybe he's come to this lounge to wash away all my sins?
I swallow and study him more closely while he looks around and seems to be searching for someone.
Dark, curly hair, a bit wild and windswept, as if he'd been riding a motorcycle.
He runs a hand through it, letting me see his knuckles stand out.
I love when men have beautiful, sinewy hands.
Several rings adorn his fingers, and the distinctive gold watch gleams in the light of the entrance area.
A tailored suit in dark blue perfectly matches the ambiance.
His upright, confident walk already gives him my stamp of approval: He knows what he wants. And he gets what he wants.
For a brief moment, our eyes meet. A strong tingling sensation courses through my body, which inevitably makes me smile.
And him?
Oh, yes, he returns my smile.
With a charming demeanor, he approaches me, continues to look around the lounge, and casually takes a seat next to me.
"What’s a woman like you doing all alone in a bar?" he asks, nodding at Chloe, who walks up to us. "A whiskey, please."
"Sure." Chloe goes about her business, while I only have eyes for him.
"I’m enjoying a virgin colada," I reply, then immediately ask, "Are you looking for someone?"
If he is, he doesn’t seem to have found them. Maybe he just wants to pass the time with me until they show up.
"Looking for the most beautiful woman in the lounge," he flirts immediately, just as Chloe hands him his whiskey.
I shoot my best friend a look she knows exactly how to read.
"And lucky me, I found her right away," he adds.
"You’re lucky I let myself be found," I counter with excitement, trying to keep my face neutral. I want to seem cool and distant, not too easy—though that’s exactly what I want to be tonight.
"So, tell me, what’s a woman like you doing alone in a lounge like this? And on a Sunday evening, no less?" he asks, sipping his drink.
His gold watch catches the light. I wonder if it’s real.
It doesn’t look cheap. He’s probably some businessman on a trip, just looking for a little fun.
Can’t see a wedding ring. Every gold ring on his hands is on a different finger.
I don't notice any suspicious tan line either. A man like him probably isn’t settling down anytime soon.
He’s living life to the fullest—and tonight, I might get the pleasure of tasting a little of that.
"I’ve got an appointment tomorrow at noon, so I just came here to kill some time. Good company’s always welcome."
"That’s good," he says smoothly. I also don't have anything important until tomorrow afternoon."
He looks into my eyes, but I feel more like he's gazing directly into my soul. Goosebumps rise on my arms. My stomach flips with excitement. I keep my composure. Not just leaning in and kissing him is suddenly very hard. It’s a long way back to my place—hopefully he’s got a hotel nearby.
"My name’s Kimberley, by the way," I say, extending my hand, desperate to know the name of the man who will sweeten my night.
What will it be like to touch him?
"Gabriel."
He takes my hand, which goes quite differently than I imagined.
His movements are gentle and precise, his grip strong and commanding.
Immediately a hot wave flows through me along with the great desire to be particularly reckless tonight.
I never would have thought possible that a mere touch could throw me into such disarray.
I mourn the loss of our handshake when he lets go.
His fingertips brush my palm on the way out, making me shiver.
It’s been far too long since a man last touched me.
Maybe that’s why I’m practically starving for it, prowling like a cat on the hunt.
I should relax and let him hunt me instead—he’s the man, after all.
He should be the one to win me over. I take a deep breath and smile softly.
"Do you drink wine? Or champagne? Maybe whiskey?" It sounds like he wants to treat me.
"I was actually planning to stay sober tonight, but if you're inviting me, I wouldn’t mind a good whiskey."
"A woman of taste." He seems to like that.
He signals Chloe and orders me one. She shoots me a stern look.
"I like high-quality alcohol and high-quality company."
That earns me a smile. Gabriel stands, gestures toward a table opposite the bar. Each private area has a semi-circular booth where you can sit comfortably and get closer.
"We could sit over there..."
It's not as bright there as it is at the bar. Gabriel pulls out his wallet and slides two bills to Chloe, which she accepts. "Keep the change."
Then he turns back to me: "...and talk a little?"
Why not? He seems to be not only a good-looking man, but his charm convinces me as well.
"Gladly. And thank you for the invitation." I finish my Virgin Colada, stand up and look again at Chloe, who silently but with a meaningful look hands me my whiskey. "Here you go," she adds.
"Thank you. I think one is enough for today," I reassure her, so that while Chloe continues to watch me, she also lets me go with Gabriel. Us women look out for each other. In our crazy world, it's better to look twice before embarking on an adventure with a stranger.
"You know the bartender well?" Gabriel asks as we walk together to the empty spot and settle in.
"What makes you think so?" I ask him, wondering how he could figure that out so quickly.
"She gave you such a stern look, as if she didn't approve of you drinking something with me. As a bartender, she should actually be happy about customers drinking, but she wasn't," he reveals as he sits down next to me on the soft cushions.
"Good observation." Nervous, I take a few greedy sips before adding, "I met her on her very first day here—four months ago. I’d had a rough time, wandered in, and immediately loved the quiet atmosphere. Not as crowded as other bars. I kept coming back."