‘Where did she go last night?’
‘Hello to you too.’ I sit back in my seat, my eyes on the screen, on her. ‘She was already under the radar by the time I left you.’ That was no lie.
‘Have you checked out that club?’
‘I swung by.’
‘And?’
‘And you can’t just walk into a club like that and get details—it’s going to take time.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Livingston, I’ve paid you a fortune already and you’ve got me sod all.’
‘Like I said last night, I can walk away from this and you can find yourself some other—’
‘No, no, it’s fine. Just watch her. She has a charity gig tonight at the Savoy. Why don’t you follow her after? She’ll have had a few drinks... She’ll be looking for a good time.’
I clench the phone tighter, my hand pulsing around it. I hate the way he says it. But is he right? Would she go to Blacks? Or would she come to me?
The latter was the safest option...for her.
Yeah, you’re only thinking of her.
I ignore the mental gibe and focus on my next move. I have her number. I could text, arrange to meet...
‘Livingston? You there?’
‘I’ll be there.’
I go to cut the line, not wanting to listen to his plummy, irritating-as-fuck tone any more, but then I stop.
‘And, Philip?’
‘Yes?’
‘Get off my back or you’ll definitely be finding yourself someone else.’
I hear his blustering down the line and my smile is cold as I hang up. People like Philip Lauren respond to a firm hand. The firmer I am, the more he will listen. The second I look weak, he will pounce.
Then I launch Coco’s contact details and send a text.
Why don’t I pick you up from the event tonight...bring you back to mine? Ash
Her response is swift.
Midnight. Savoy. Don’t be late. My dress will turn to rags.
I smile at her Cinderella reference.
You could be in a bin liner and I’d still want you. No need to worry about the pumpkin. I’ll bring my big, strong, safe car around the back. Tradesman’s entrance. ;-)
I can’t believe I’ve just added a wink to a text. I’m still questioning it when her response pops up.
Great. See you then. PS did you get my number from my fairy godmother?
Shit. I think fast.
I won’t tell Jackson you called him that. He might bar you.