Chapter One
Fuck.But why did the simple task of buckling the damn sandals in the driver seat have to be so freaking impossible? If it wasn’t for being incredibly uncomfortable and entirely too dangerous to drive in heels, I wouldn’t have to endure this ordeal every time I wore heeled shoes with straps.
Wasting no more time, I exited the car, nearly losing my footing in my rush. The stubborn strap of my clutch bag refused to sit on my shoulder. The keys slipped from my hands and my phone would have dropped too if my reflexes hadn’t intervened fast. Perfect. Just what I needed to complement my delayed arrival with the sweetest cherry on top.
I picked up the keys hastily and pressed the locks of my rental car while I crossed the narrow empty street in a semi-powerwalk. Okay, it was just a brisk walk, but on these five-inch heels, it sure felt more powerful.
“Sorry I’m late.”
I flashed my best apologetic smile to Sam who was waiting for me next to his black Mercedes. His arms were crossed at his chest and his brows prominently furrowed at what I could guess was irritation at my tardiness. If there was one thing Sam hated the most, it was the lack of punctuality. He was as precise on timing as the Big Ben. And me? Five minutes late was my bare minimum.
He shook his head, utterly unfazed by this situation. “That’s the second time I’m hearing that today, Lucille. You’re seven minutes late.”
Sam Webb was my boss. The owner of the branding and marketing company where I worked as a Creative Director for almost two years. This evening, we had a business dinner with a big potential client. And Sam really wanted to win him over. Hence why Sam was attempting to impress with dinner at the finest restaurant in the town centre. Because, as Sam concluded, who didn’t like to treat their taste buds?
Happy to treat my own, I agreed to tag along at the unusual meeting location. It was certainly a more appealing invite than a meeting in the usual conference room. And as an added bonus, I had the privilege of treating my eyes too.
I saw Sam five days a week, spent an hour or two a day during meetings with him and yet I never stared at him as much as I did at that moment. At the office, in his expensive charcoal black suits and his swagger accentuated by the clopping heel of his handcrafted shoes, Sam held an aura of power and confidence. He owned the room – literally and figuratively. But tonight, in the pale grey Italian suit tailored perfectly snug to his lean physique, his sleek black messy quiff, that woody cologne that teased my nostrils and the moonlight highlighting his face contours, Sam could own anything he wanted. Add Sam’s good looks to being incredibly intelligent and successful, and I was in the presence of one of the finest specimens of a man. And those eyes of his, they were the most extraordinary shade I’d ever seen. Blue and grey with a hint of golden brown. Mostly blue. Sometimes more grey. But always captivating. It was impossible not to be mesmerized by them. I know I was. I tended to stare at his eyes. A lot.
Best not to gawk at him, Lucy. Sam’s your boss. And this was a work meeting. But who in his right mind wouldn’t give a double-take at this man? Oh, shut up, brain.
“Traffic?” Sam asked about my late arrival.
“More like a dozen wardrobe changes,” I admitted.
It certainly wasn’t easy to decide on an outfit knowing I’d be accompanying someone as good-looking as him. I finally settled on a royal blue midi dress with cold-shoulder sleeves and a sweetheart neckline which paired well with the reddest shade of lipstick I owned and my perfectly straight, ash brown hair.
“You women and your world’s end problems.”
“Shut up and let’s go, or we’re really going to be late.”
“You mean late-er. Courtesy of someone who can’t follow a GPS to the restaurant.” Sam laughed mockingly before sliding into his car.
But how could he do that? The irritation he showed ten seconds was already traded with his usual jovial self. Two years I’ve known this man, and I cannot recall one instance when he was in a bad mood for more than a few minutes. Sam was blessed with the remarkable trait of being lively and cheerful all the time. As if this man couldn’t be any more perfect.
I opened the passenger’s side of Sam’s Mercedes, extremely cautious not to open too far and bump the door into the wall. Definitely didn’t want to be the person who put the first scratch on his brand new pride and joy. He’d probably fire me. Okay, maybe not. He wasn’t a brute, but he was surely crazy obsessed with his car. And wow, did he have reason to! The car looked sleek enough from the outside, but the interior was even more impressive. It oozed high class and money. And Sam fitted perfectly with it.
I buckled my seat belt. “Thank you for coming all this way here for me, by the way.”
Since the very first day working with Sam, we had immediately gotten along too well. Hence why I didn’t think twice about asking a favour from him. I called him about half an hour ago to meet me halfway to the restaurant. He accepted without many questions, even if coming here was out of his way. Besides being one good-looking and amazing boss, Sam was undeniably a true gentleman.
His foot pressed on the pedal and the rowdy engine roared to life. “You’re welcome. Although I was a bit shocked to hear that my brilliantly smart Creative Director couldn’t operate the GPS system in her car.”
“My car is a rental with a faulty GPS. And even if it worked fine, in which case I would have been fully capable of operating it, I don’t know the restaurant’s address anyway.”
“It’s right in the middle of the town centre, Lucille. Everyone who’s lived here for more than a day knows the way to the town centre. Some of us even know how to get there without a GPS. Can you believe that? Especially someone who has a faulty GPS. You must have had to learn a lot of roads by heart.” He finished the sentence bursting into a laugh.
Oh, crap. He called my lie, didn’t he? His sarcasm and cockiness said that.
I shrugged an innocent shoulder. “Maybe I just wanted to hitch a ride in your new car. I love your car. It’s so… nice.”
He gave me a weird side glance. “Liar. You don’t care about my car. You made fun of me for being ‘too aroused for a piece of metal’. Your exact words to me before I went to collect it.”
“Maybe I did laugh at you. Just a little. But only to tease you. I do like your car.” I attempted to say as believable as I could.
His smirk transformed into a laugh. “If I could take a wild guess, I say you wanted a halfway lift because you want your boss - the same boss who invited you to an insanely expensive dinner - to drive you to the town centre just because you don’t want to walk a long distance from your car to the restaurant. It’s a nightmare to find a parking spot close by. With me as a personal chauffeur, your mind is at peace that I’ll drop you off in front of the restaurant, then I will go find a parking spot. And then after dinner, I’d even go bring the car back around for you. You know I’m too chivalrous to let you walk too far on those evil high heels you wear. Am I right?”
Yep, spot on. Like he read my mind. “And because I didn’t want to be late by myself?”