Chapter 37
Anton
Iknow Genevieve told me she wouldn’t be frequenting the club before our trip, but I’m still disappointed and vaguely pissed off not to see her at the Alchemy bar tonight. I eye up The Playroom’s double doors before jerking my head in the other direction.
She may be working from home, having slipped into something comfortable and curled up with her laptop, but it’s worth checking to see if she’s still here, isn’t it?
I drain the second of my two permitted shots and head out of the bar, back down the hallway towards the main entrance.
The doormen’s shadows are visible through the frosted glass of the front door, and the glamorous young brunette who greeted me when I came in is still at her post here in the hallway.
‘Is Genevieve still in there?’ I ask, jerking a thumb towards the closed door to the front meeting room where she’s hosted me on previous occasions.
She hesitates. ‘Oh. Um…’
I shoot her a confident smile. ‘We’re business associates.’ Or near enough. ‘If you’d like to check that she’s happy to see me before I barge in, by all means, go ahead.’
Her face brightens. ‘Of course, Mr Wolff. Just give me a second, please.’
She opens the door and slips through, and I hear murmurs before she re-emerges. ‘Please go on in,’ she says with a smile I’d usually find seductive, but which now leaves me cold.
I cut through the empty front room, smiling at the pink onyx vulva sculpture which is lit and glowing from within in the dusk. I know from my meetings here that the Alchemy teams’ desks are on the other side of the double doors.
Sure enough, I spot Genevieve before I’m even through them. She’s lit just by the setting sun and her computer screen, and she looks perfectly lovely, as always.
She doesn’t get up.
‘Hello,’ she says tiredly and, I think, warily.
‘Hi,’ I return. I indicate the edge of her desk. ‘Can I perch for a minute?’
‘Of course.’ She pushes her chair back to give us a bit more space. ‘Want some wine?’
I glance down. She’s got a glass of something white and chilled while she works. ‘Why not?’
‘Give me a sec.’ She pushes herself up and heads towards the back of the room as I enjoy the view of her shapely arse.
Her dress is just tight enough to graze every curve.
Nobody nails that mix of class and feminine sensuality like Genevieve.
She exudes them both. Her arse looks fucking amazing, though I prefer it bare.
Arched.
And her dress has a zip running from neck to hem. Tut tut. What a naughty girl.
She disappears into what I assume is a kitchen and returns a moment later with a glass for me. I take it and raise it. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’ We clink.
‘You weren’t lying about working late.’
‘No.’ She gives a little laugh and scratches her forehead with her thumb. She looks shattered. ‘As luck would have it, our Operations Manager is away this week, so I’m having to set up all the workflows in our system myself.’
‘That doesn’t sound particularly glamorous or fun,’ I say.
‘It’s definitely neither. But it has to be done. I’m the details person—the guys take the piss out of me for it. I’ve been sleeping really badly, imagining all the things that could possibly go wrong with the pop-up.’
I’ve also been sleeping really badly, imagining having you cuffed to my bed while I fuck your pretty cunt, I think, but I opt not to share that information.
‘I feel bad,’ I say instead. ‘This is our project. You’re just supposed to sit back and take the money.’
That earns me a laugh. ‘Yeah, no. That was never going to happen. But if we build systems and workflows for this pop-up, then we have everything in place to project manage any others we might do. The key is to streamline everything so we can roll it out easily.’
‘Like a franchise model,’ I suggest, and she nods.
‘Exactly. The problem is, it’s all in here’—she taps her temple—‘and it needs to be in there. I wish I could stick a USB in my brain and download it all, but it needs to be done manually. This time.’
‘This time,’ I echo. ‘Well, I promise you I’ll show you a good time in Cannes. I promise we’ll have some fun.’
She gives me some serious side-eye. ‘Last time you proposed we have fun, look what happened.’
I take a sip of my wine before I reply. ‘You can’t say that wasn’t fun.’
She purses her lips. ‘It was.’ She makes it sound like I’m forcing a confession under duress. ‘So, you’ve made me a few promises now. I hope you can keep them.’
‘Have I?’ I say, amused.
‘Yes.’ She counts on a perfectly manicured hand. ‘That we have fun—the non-sexual kind, and that you don’t try any funny business with hotel rooms.’
‘Ahh.’ I stretch out my legs and cross my ankles, thoroughly enjoying myself. ‘I can promise to deliver on both of those.’
‘If you say so.’ She looks thoroughly unconvinced.
‘I do.’
She’ll be fucking furious when she finds out the accommodation plan.
But it definitely doesn’t involve a hotel.
I can’t wait.
We regard each other for a moment. She really is a classic beauty.
Her bone structure is extraordinary. High cheekbones and huge eyes and a way of holding herself that brings to mind stars of the silver screen.
She’s immaculately made up, as always, and I allow myself to recall those heady images of her, smudged and tousled and just-fucked and so extraordinarily shameless.
‘I should let you get back to it,’ I say reluctantly, because she’s clearly shattered, and I don’t want to keep her here any longer than she needs to be.
She hesitates. ‘Are you going back inside?’ she asks. Her tone is casual, but something tells me that’s deliberate.
Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part.
‘Nah,’ I say. Any allure The Playroom held for me earlier has vanished. I take a good slug of my wine. ‘This is my third drink, and I don’t want to flout your rules. They’re there for a reason.’
She gives me a small smile. ‘I think you’d be fine.’
‘Nevertheless,’ I say. ‘I’d better go.’
We stare at each other. The air is thick around us, and no fucking wonder. Jesus, I’ve only met this woman a handful of times, and yet the experiences we’ve shared together already—fucking hell. It’s impossible not to feel the weight of all that desire, and tension, and memory.
I make a split-second decision. I genuinely came in here with no agenda beyond seeing her, but I’d like to clear the air before France.
I’d like to do more than clear the air—I’d like to clear up any misapprehension on her part, too.
‘I just want to say.’ I clear my throat and fix those blue eyes with mine. ‘You seem to have a certain impression of me, which I may or may not deserve. But know this. If you ever grant me permission to touch you, that will be it for me.’
Her eyes widen, shapely eyebrows arching in a silent question.
I forge ahead. ‘I mean to say, once I touched you, I wouldn’t touch anyone else. No one. I know how to play, sure. But when I’m with someone I’m genuinely interested in, that’s it. Not out of obligation, but because that’s the way I want it. Do you understand?’
I leave the rest unsaid.
I’m genuinely interested in you.
She stares at me, lips parted. I seem to have taken the wind out of her sails. I know she doesn’t trust me as far as she can throw me, but I’ve respected her boundaries so far, in every way, and I think I’ve earned the right to speak my mind.
Finally, she nods. ‘Yes—um—understood. Thank you.’
‘Alright then.’ I put down my half-finished drink and stand. ‘Thanks for the wine. I’ll see you at the airfield in a couple of days.’
I turn to go, but she’s out of her chair before I can leave.
‘Wait.’ She puts a light hand on my shoulder and, leaning in, presses a kiss to my cheek. Her scent envelops me in a heady, musky haze. ‘Goodnight, Anton.’