Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
“Oh shit,” she breathes. “What’s happened?”
“He’s here. At Arlington Hall,” I say.
“Him?”
“His name’s Jude Harrison. He owns this place.”
“Oh my God.”
“I’ve achieved nothing at this conference except sweating and trying to breathe so I don’t have a fucking heart attack.” I go to smooth my hair back and realise it’s down. Damn it. I hold my phone to my ear and gather it into a ponytail. It’s casual, but it’s off my face, the strands not sticking to my damp, sticky cheeks. “He gave an opening speech. I read between the lines. Then he found me in the ladies’ and—”
“You had hand sex again?”
“No.” I roll my eyes, flopping back in my chair. “He got close, I’m sure we were heading for . . . I don’t know, but I found my senses and left. Then he got all passive aggressive over a male colleague.” Taking a breath, I rub my temple. “Abbie, he’s a force I’m not sure I can handle.”
“You can handle anything,” she says gently. “You are literally the strongest woman I know.”
I smile, but it’s small and it’s an effort. “I don’t feel very strong right now.” Every second I’m in Jude Harrison’s orbit, whether that be physically or just on the phone, a little bit more strength crumbles away.
“That’s the power of attraction.”
“I’ve no room in my life for a man. I’ve literally just kicked one out.”
“Nick’s expectations were unreasonable.”
“And Jude Harrison’s aren’t?” I look up when a waiter appears beside me. “I’m okay, thank you.”
He smiles and picks a glass of Hey Jude up off his tray and lowers it. “Courtesy of Mr. Harrison.”
I laugh sardonically.
“What?” Abbie asks.
“He’s just sent me a cocktail. The Hey Jude. I think it’s a peace offering.”
“I can’t believe he owns Arlington Hall.”
“We didn’t get Charley on the call.”
“You know what Charley will say. Besides, she’s at Lloyd’s parents’ house for dinner. I’m on my way to Waitrose. Chablis, Cheese, and Bridget?”
Our crisis pack. “Yeah,” I breathe, because this definitely feels like a crisis. “I’ll be back soon.”
I hang up and study the glass before me for a few moments, knowing he’ll be watching me. So I get up and head back inside, leaving the drink untouched on the table.
“There you are,” Clark says, dancing over. “We’re going to Evelyn’s. You have to come.”
“Evelyn’s?”
“It’s the nightclub on the grounds. Everyone’s heading there for drinks.”
I don’t want to appreciate the nod to his mother. “Do you have a pass?” I ask, thinking Rachel will not love my brother rocking up late totally bombed. He’s a terrible drunk. Slurry, wobbly, clingy, and he feels the need to be virtually licking people’s earlobes when he’s talking to them.
“I’ve cleared it with the boss. Come on, sis, live on the edge.” He claps his hands and does some obscene dance as he backs away. He’s such a goofball. Like an excitable child on Christmas Eve.
“What about your car?” I call.
“Rach said she’d bring me over tomorrow after work to get it.”
“I’m going to pass.” I wave a hand flippantly. I’m looking forward to a wine and cheese coma with Abbie. And off-loading my woes. “I’ll get the bus back.”
“Oh, we’ve put the transport back a few hours,” Shelley says, dancing past, joining the crowd heading through the glass tunnel to Evelyn’s. “Majority vote, I’m afraid. Soz.”
My shoulders drop. “I’ll get a train.”
“Oh, come on, Amelia,” she yells back. “Live on the edge.”
Easy for everyone else to say. I sense it’s going to be really fucking painful if I fall off that edge.
“A club?” I motion down my body. “Dressed like this?”
“Look around you,” Shelley sings, laughing. “You’re surrounded by suits and pencil skirts.”
“I’m wearing a dress,” I grumble. “It’s Victoria Beckham,” I add, like that sets me apart from the others. Now they are stiff. I huff to myself. Jesus Christ, I haven’t been to a club since I went to Ibiza after we graduated. That was a great trip. None of us wanted to come home and resume adulting.
Glancing around me, I watch every guest from the conference heading eagerly in the direction of freedom from their day jobs. Relief. Hair-down time. There will undoubtedly be a pile of sore heads and regrets in the morning. Someone will end up in the restrooms with someone they shouldn’t. It’s never been for me, and it shouldn’t be now. Especially since it’s Jude Harrison’s club.
I check the time, then open my Uber app to see how far away the nearest car is to get me to the train station. “No available cars?” I blurt, baulking at my screen. I look up and around, following my feet to the reception area and finding Anouska passing through to the Library Bar. “Hey, is there a taxi firm I can call to take me to the station? Uber has nothing available in the area.” I laugh like, How crazy is that?