Chapter 21
I woke to the sound of the front door closing and sat up groggily, pushing the duvet off me.
My mouth felt like I’d eaten clay, and I wondered why I was still wearing all my clothes.
Then last night’s drama came rushing back, and I had a strong urge to dive back under the duvet again, which now had chocolate smears all over it. I’d have to get that dry-cleaned.
I listened but couldn’t hear any movement from the bedroom. The front door must’ve been Mitch going out for a walk. I only had a short window of time to get ready for work and write my note.
Dragging myself out of bed, I suddenly remembered I hadn’t hung out the washing last night. Shit. He’d have to wait until his stuff dried before he could leave. But when I reached the kitchen, I discovered it all hanging neatly on the rack. Oh, he’s done it.
I went to make myself a coffee, but a pot had already been freshly brewed with my mug sitting alongside, waiting.
Disconcerted, I poured myself some and leaned against the counter, sipping it. Now I was unsure whether I should write the note or not. It seemed mean after he’d been up and about doing chores. Thanks for hanging out the washing. And making the coffee. Now piss off.
But still, I didn’t want to bump into him coming back from his walk either. This was doubly emphasised when I saw my face in the bathroom mirror; eyes puffy and mouth brown-stained with chocolate.
After I’d showered, slapped on some makeup and wrestled my hair into an extra-tight bun, I crept to my bedroom in my bathrobe to grab a work outfit.
Hesitantly, I pushed open the door, heart thumping, half-expecting Mitch to be in there.
But the room was empty; the bed neatly made.
Again. I eyed it suspiciously. Did he even sleep in it?
I was beginning to think Mitch was more of a neat freak than I was. But surely that wasn’t possible.
Time was ticking on, and I’d given Mitch a spare key, so I was starting to feel mightily nervous that he was going to burst through the door at any second and catch me in my bathrobe. I couldn’t bear facing him. The awkwardness of the pleasantries that wouldn’t mean anything.
Throwing my clothes on, I grabbed my handbag and hurried to the door.
Outside, I glanced both ways down the street, and not spotting him, took off to the Tube like a woman possessed.
I knew my behaviour wasn’t entirely rational, but I figured I would have got my shit together by this evening.
Plus, it would be more mature to talk to him face to face rather than leaving a note.
I’d sit him down on the couch and calmly explain about needing my space.
He wasn’t a dick. I was sure he’d understand.
Then I could reclaim my flat and my sanity, and we could go back to being work acquaintances.
Yes, it was the best plan for everyone concerned.
Mia looked up from her laptop when I arrived, fifteen minutes late and puffing, as I’d run from the Tube.
‘Sorry, hectic morning,’ I gasped, depositing my stuff by my desk.
‘Relax,’ she said, stretching her legs out. ‘I’m not going to dock your pay. But you can clean my shoes if you like. I trod in dog shit on the way here.’
I smiled thinly and switched on my laptop.
She peered at me. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes, why?’ I mumbled.
‘Your face is all red, and your eyes are bloodshot.’
I’d scrubbed my face hard in the shower to get rid of the chocolate stains, so I might have gone a bit overboard. As for my eyes… well, I’d had a little self-pitying cry about Mitch on the Tube behind the privacy of my Kindle screen so…
‘I’m fine,’ I said curtly.
‘Because if you’re coming down with something, you should have stayed in bed…’
I almost started crying again. Because staying in bed with Mitch all day would have been heavenly. Indulgent, but heavenly. I drifted off on an impromptu daydream…
‘Prim?’
I snapped back to reality and pulled myself together.
‘Really, Mia, I’m fine. Don’t fuss.’
She shook her hair back and returned to her screen, saying, ‘That’s good, because I’m interviewing Tyler Holt this morning.’
Slowly, I turned to face her and took in that she was wearing her yoga pants, a loose-fitting canary yellow top, and a black sports bra underneath. Oh no, not another hands-on interview.
‘Who’s Tyler Holt?’ I asked cautiously.
‘A BDSM expert who’s interested in working at Suite Noir,’ said Mia breezily.
I blinked. ‘Oh. How did you connect with him? I’ve had trouble getting any takers.’
Mia smirked and tapped her nose. ‘I have certain… contacts.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘Hopefully hot as sin and a cock so large it needs scaffolding.’ Mia grinned evilly.
‘But all I know is that he’s twenty-six and originally from Stoke-on-Trent.
But he’s been living in Paris for three years, and his French is fluent.
Honestly, I asked him to parley-voo, and he was gabbling away.
My French is quite good, but even I couldn’t keep up with him, so I’m sure he’s legit. ’
I bit back a laugh at that. Mia’s French was very much less than “quite good”. It was basically non-existent, apart from “oui”, “non” and “merde”.
‘Anyway, he’s coming in at ten,’ she continued. ‘So I’ll need you to take notes should he make it past round one. He definitely has a panty-melting voice but, as you know, he needs a big dick, as well.’
I nodded wearily. Great, this was going to be a fun morning. I didn’t particularly want to watch Mia getting it on with some Marquis de Sade wannabe. Not after my full-on night. But needs must. We desperately had to find a replacement for Dean.
‘Have you heard anything from Mitch, by the way?’ Mia asked.
A warning bell went off in my brain, but I forced myself to say in a detached manner, ‘No, why?’
‘He sent an email at 5.30 a.m. this morning, saying he needed to have an urgent chat with me.’
My chest clenched painfully. Yikes, that didn’t sound good.
‘Oh? What did you say?’
‘I said if it was that urgent, I’d move our catch-up meeting forward to tomorrow.
Then I had to cancel my hair appointment, and I really need a trim.
Honestly, the amount of time I spend accommodating these guys.
’ She shook her head, her shiny dark bob swinging against her prominent cheekbones.
‘Anyway, I thought you might know what it was about.’
‘Me?’ I looked suitably confused, because I actually was. ‘No. Why would I know?’
Mia frowned. ‘He rang you after the Shoshana incident, didn’t he? He seems to like talking to you about his issues.’
‘Well, I am HR support, and a glorified counsellor,’ I said snippily. ‘No, he hasn’t said anything to me. You’ll have to wait and find out tomorrow. Hopefully, it’s nothing bad.’
Mia nodded. ‘Yeah, Mitch quitting after one appointment is the last thing we need right now. Especially after all the time we spent re-designing his suite.’
‘No, that wouldn’t be ideal.’ I arranged my face to look concerned. But a zing of hope charged through me like a racehorse. Was Mitch thinking of quitting? And most importantly, if he was, did it have anything to do with me?