Part 105 (2/2)
I've been warned by the company directors to rein in my authoritarian att.i.tude because he won't accept my typical att.i.tude; I'll have to grit my teeth and suck it up. Ruby Riot are dream clients compared to Cole. Mitch.e.l.l must have some skill to keep the actor under the radar as much as he does.
”Have you met Mitch.e.l.l yet?” I ask. ”Please tell me he's nothing like his client.”
A coy smile plays around the edge of Jenna's lips. ”No. Nice guy. Hot. Wait until you meet him, he's so lovely.”
Oh, no. ”He's obviously charmed you. Asked you to do much for him while I was away?”
”Well, he had some calls he couldn't make, and he really didn't like his hotel room, so I helped him change that, and then-”
”Definitely a charmer, then. You're easily led, Jenna,” I tease.
Her cheeks tinge pink. ”No, he's new to London and needed my help.”
”Mmm. I doubt that.” I take the papers from her and leaf through them. ”Ten, did you say?”
”Would you like me to give you a five minute warning?”
”I guess. Where are we meeting?”
”I organised the main conference room, thought it would be better than your office.”
”Good. Looks like I need to call Jess at ACL to check the ad creative before I meet Mitch.e.l.l because it's not here.”
”Would you like me to get you a coffee?” Jenna stands.
”Sounds good.”
And just like that, I'm back in my role. Riley Sawyer, PR manager, organising, coordinating, and keeping my mind busy. Firmly back in my comfort zone, I settle back at my desk and fire up my laptop.
The call to Jess doesn't go well. A number of people I contact this morning are less than understanding about my enforced absence; and some don't believe I was trapped at all, but chose to stay for a not-so-secret holiday with Nate Campbell.
Whatever. Pressing issues sorted, I flick through my diary to figure out what I can move in my schedule to arrange the holiday with Josh and Mum.
The door opens and closes, but I don't look up. ”Thanks, Jenna.”
”You've called me a few things before, but not a girl's name.”
I snap my head up. Nate holding a cup. No, Nate holding a cup and a friendly smile. ”Where did you come from?”
”h.e.l.lo to you too.” His mouth quirks into the smile that breaks my heart every time, because I always want him to smile at me like this but know one day he'll stop. ”Jenna let me through. I'm your client, remember, even if you don't want anything to do with Ruby Riot these days?” He sets the coffee on my desk and the smile creeps further across his face. ”Or most of Ruby Riot.”
”Funny.”
”Heh. I told her I had something urgent to talk to you about.”
”By coming in here, you've basically told the world something happened between us.”
”Nah.” Nate flops onto the yellow sofa in the corner of my office. ”How've you been?”
”Since I saw you two days ago? Warm. Dry. Away from the smell of stale beer. You?”
”Yeah.”
”Yeah?” I mimic. ”I didn't expect to see you. Our goodbye wasn't exactly heartfelt.”
Nate pulls his face into an apology. ”I know. I'm a bit s.h.i.+t at that. Felt uncomfortable. Y'know. Will.”
”All good. I told you, we can put our behaviour down to boredom.”
”And l.u.s.t.”
”And my long dry spell.”
We share a smile and the dam breaks again. I want this man. I can't even express to myself how much and my head hurts at my own to and fro. I'm terrified of myself, of how he makes me feel, and the mess I'll end up in.
He wants to see me. Nate came here. He doesn't want to let go either.
The reality of what happened in Yorks.h.i.+re hits. We haven't drawn a line and left behind what happened, and it doesn't seem Nate wants to either.
”We should talk, Nate.”
”That's why I came to see you. And don't sit behind your desk. I feel like I'm at an interview.”
I wheel back my chair and stand. Nate bites the piercing at the edge of his lip as he takes in my short, black dress and low heels. ”Professional Riley.”
”Rock star Nate.”
My stomach tightens as Nate approaches, tall figure closing in on me as I rest against the edge of the desk.
How do I deal with the situation? My ordinary life carries on around me, one Nate's put himself in the centre of it by coming here when I honestly believed he'd return to the edge.
He runs a hand along the side of my head, where my hair is gathered upwards into a loose bun. ”You never wore your hair up in Yorks.h.i.+re.”
”I'm working.” I attempt to turn my head but he catches my cheek and turns my face to his.
”Got time to play?” he whispers.
His words send a rush of arousal through me at the suggestion from the man who plays well. Nate slides his fingers along the nape of my neck and loosens the band in my hair. He yanks the band out and my hair falls across my shoulders.
”Better.” He snaps the hair band around his wrist.
Oh, G.o.d. This man's c.o.c.ky surety once p.i.s.sed me off, but is now one of the biggest b.l.o.o.d.y turn ons. ”You don't smell of oranges anymore,” I say, wresting back self-control.
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