Chapter 3
Kimberley
I strut past the receptionist with my head high, nod to the doorman, and step outside. The taxi’s already waiting—perfect timing. I slide in, give the driver EDL’s address, and lean back. As long as we don’t hit the worst traffic jam in London history, I should still get there on time.
I slept like crap. Let’s just blame the whiskey. Definitely not touching another drop anytime soon.
Chloe: You’re alive! I’m still listening to your message…
Me: Sorry, couldn’t keep it short. I’m in the taxi now on my way to EDL. Interview’s in about twenty minutes. Should be there in four. So, I’ll be on time.
Chloe: Perfect. Sending you a virtual hug. Glad you got out of there safely. What a jerk! That poor girl…
Me: Yeah. You’d never guess by looking at these guys. I feel bad for his wife too. Awful. Well, we’re here. Wish me luck!
Chloe blasts me with heart emojis, and I send just as many back. Then a quick text to the family group chat so they can keep me in their thoughts too. They know how badly I want this job—and how badly I need the money. Sweet, sweet money. Somehow luck always lands in the wrong hands.
Gabriel clearly has plenty of it, otherwise he couldn’t afford that ridiculous apartment. What does he even do for a living? Maybe it’s an inheritance. Who knows.
Whatever. I'll just put that idiot out of my mind. I'll never see him again anyway.
In front of the building, I admire the sleek lettering above the entrance: Epicurean Delights London.
My whole body buzzes with excitement. I can’t help but grin, though I try to keep it in check.
Head high, I stride to the glass doors. They open automatically, and two receptionists glance up at me.
Both look laid-back and friendly. After a short intro, one of them escorts me to the third floor and invites me to sit in the waiting area.
A few minutes later, what I assume is Mr. Bones’s secretary comes out from behind her desk and walks over.
“Miss Prescott?” she asks, smiling nervously, looking on edge. I pop up right away and offer my hand.
“Lovely to meet you. Unfortunately, Mr. Bones is unavailable…”
Has anything good ever happened on a Monday?
I have to fight to keep my cool. If she only knew what it took to get here on time—unshowered, and starving!
“Oh…” I’m about to snap that they could’ve at least called, when she keeps going. Lucky me.
“Mr. Kensington himself will conduct the interview. Please don’t worry. He usually only steps in after Mr. Bones screens candidates. This is actually a good thing,” she assures me.
“The boss himself?” Now I’m nervous. Nobody really knows anything about him. No photos, no articles, nothing. He keeps his life locked down tighter than Fort Knox.
“That’s right. Gregory Kensington.” Actually, it’s Gregory G. Kensington, but I don’t want to correct her. “Mr. Kensington’s still on an important call. As soon as he’s ready, I’ll take you in. Would you like tea, coffee, juice? Sparkling water?”
“I’d love some juice. Orange or apple if you have it.”
“We’ve got both. Please, have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
I sit again, crossing my legs as she hurries off on her heels.
Why’s she so jumpy?
Me: You’re not gonna believe this. Sitting here and the secretary tells me the guy I was supposed to meet isn’t here. I’m meeting the boss directly. And she’s super nervous. That’s a bad sign, right?
Chloe: Uh… nervous assistants usually mean a boss who keeps them on edge…
Me: Exactly what I thought. What do I do?
Chloe: Stay calm? Seriously. Bosses like that love people who keep it together. They just want the business to run smoothly.
Me: True. Okay. Deep breath, happy thoughts, everything will work out… right?
She likes my last message while I’m totally freaking out. I chew my lower lip, listening to sounds from the little kitchen where she disappeared. A minute later, she’s back with a tall glass of orange juice, there are even ice cubes floating at the top.
“Thank you so much,” I say, taking a big sip. Okay—wow. This juice is amazing. Really good. I sneak a quick glance at my meter—this much sugar will send my blood sugar spiking. But sometimes I crave sweet stuff when I’m this nervous.
The secretary sits about fifty feet away at her desk, picks up a call.
I can’t make out much. The place is huge, the reception area open, and her desk sits right in front of two doors.
At least I’ve got a killer view of London’s business district.
My reflection in the glass reminds me, I’ll make a good first impression.
Outfit on point, hair perfect. Makeup too—still holding strong.
“Are you sure?" I almost miss hearing her ask. She says that a little louder into the phone. That I can hear. Then she hangs up.
A second later, the door opens. That’s gotta be him. I look up, heart pounding, at the man in the sharp suit and—
Oh, damn. What the hell is he doing here? Startled, I jump up and glare at Gabriel. Him, of all people? The guy who wouldn’t even let me shower?
Gabriel looks surprised, then walks toward me.
“Please don’t tell me we both applied for this job?” he asks with a frown.
“Are you serious?” I hiss, my nerves spiking. He applied too? Him of all people? “I thought you were loaded—the watch, the limo, the apartment...” I stammer, flustered.
“A family heirloom.” He points to his watch. “The driver’s a buddy of mine. Helps when I’m picking up girls.” What the hell? With a cocky grin, he adds, “The apartment belongs to my sister. And by the way, that was her kid this morning, not mine.”
I stand there, mouth open. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“This is a joke, right?”
“Nope. I use the apartment to pick up women like you. Easier to pretend I’m rich.
” Gabriel steps closer, smirking. “And this job’s mine.
My sister pulled some strings. I’ll get the offer.
You might as well leave before you embarrass yourself.
” I’ll kill him. Would tossing him off the fourth floor do the trick?
I straighten my blouse and put on my game face. With a confident smile, I fire back: “Well, I’m sure Mr. Kensington prefers honest employees over frauds living in a little make-believe world.”
“I’m damn good at my job. That’s exactly what he’s after—reliable, punctual, nothing shakes me.”
“I’m better. I was here first, and I’ve got some outstanding references.”
“Even one from your ex-boss?” Crap. I told him about that idiot.
“The one with all the drama? I’m sure Kensington would love to hear how his potential assistant handles herself when her mom wants a 50th birthday party.
” Gabriel’s nasty grin makes me want to knee him in the groin, but a quick glance at the secretary watching us says that’d be a very bad idea.
Instead, I just smile at Gabriel and clear my throat.
“You’ve got no proof of that.” Lucky me.
“One phone call’s all it takes.” Gabriel grins wider and strolls past me. The secretary practically leaps up, scurrying toward him like she’s stung by a tarantula. They shake hands and chat while I try to pull myself together.
“Ah, wonderful. The second candidate. Would you like something to drink? Coffee?” she asks, breathless.
“Yes, please. Lots of milk and sugar.”
“Of course. Right away. Um, Mr. Kensington isn’t here yet, but as soon as he arrives, I’ll let you both know, okay?”
Poor thing looks like she’ll keel over before lunch if she keeps going like this.
She hurries off to the kitchen while Gabriel saunters back to me, hands in his pockets.
That arrogant look of his is way too hot for my own good—and it makes me even more nervous.
Thank God we didn’t sleep together last night, or this reunion would be even more unbearable.
“I’m at least relieved the kid isn’t yours,” I say, sitting back down.
Gabriel circles me slowly, calmly. I sip my drink like I couldn’t care less and try to ignore him.
His pacing back and forth is a sign of nervousness, so I act completely at ease.
Maybe I can drive him a little crazy with that? It might give me a small advantage.
“You actually thought I was cheating on my wife?” he asks, plopping down next to me. He just can't help it. That damn grin never leaves his face.
“So, you are married?” I ask, horrified.
“No, but you might’ve thought so.”
“I would have felt sorry for the little girl. Having a father like you.” I wrinkle my nose.
“Why?” he shoots back, cockily.
“Because someone who lies isn’t a good role model.”
“So, you’re completely honest all the time?” he presses.
“Of course. Honesty’s the best policy.”
“So, you always tell the truth? Even when it screws you over?” I hesitate a second too long. “Caught you.”
“Little white lies are fine. If the truth would hurt someone, I’d rather say something polite or friendly. That’s just normal.”
“But calling me a bad father—that’s not hurtful?”
“She’s not your daughter.”
“You judge fast. Always do that?”
“I’ve seen enough of you to know what kind of person you are.”
“Oh, this should be good. Please—tell me more about myself. Preferably something I don’t know yet.” He’s enjoying this, and I can’t wait to wipe that grin off his face.
“Alright. You pretend to be rich so you can get women into bed. Probably the ones chasing money and power, who spread their legs right away.”
“Like you?”
“I just wanted one hot night with a hot guy.”
“Thanks a lot.” I should’ve kept that to myself. I clear my throat loudly, and of course, he smirks. Oh man, what a damn mess. When he looks at me like that, my pulse jumps.
“You were charming, I’ll give you that. The rest didn’t matter to me.”
“So, you didn’t just reduce me to my body?”
“I couldn’t see under your suit...”
“Okay. Go on. What else?”
“You didn’t even let me shower. That was unbelievably rude!”
"I already heard you helped yourself to the guest bathroom in the foyer. But my niece comes first." That actually makes him seem a little likable.