For the next few minutes, I toy with a squirming Marlowe as I pretend to give a shit about what my project managers are saying. Really, my focus is on getting to Kingsley.

That’s when the real fun will start.

This is all a test.

That’s what I tell myself.

It’s a test to see if my very expensive new EA with benefits can handle the more extreme parts of her job. A test to see if she’s willing to earn the salary that makes her the most well-compensated person at my company, myself and our Finance Director aside.

It’s a test to see if she enjoys it. To see how much she can handle. Just how filthy she’s capable of being.

It’s not a case of me being a horny, entitled dickhead.

Not entirely, anyway.

MARLOWE

These offices are as opulent, as stylish, as you’d expect for the headquarters of a seriously high-end hotel group. I’ve never been in a Kingsley hotel, not even to have a drink, but I follow them on Instagram and I can confirm that their feed makes me drool.

As my diabolical boss leads me into the sleek lift, I’m still worked up from the way he edged me on the way here. I swear, this man is frustrating. He orders me to wear the most porno set of underwear he bought me, he ignores me all morning, and only on the way to meet one of his most important clients does he start to play. Ugh! I could cheerfully strangle him.

‘What’s the agenda for the meeting?’ I ask him, attempting to pull myself together. He’s cool as a cucumber except for the hand in his pocket fiddling with what I now know is a fidget toy.

‘Just a general catch-up.’ He seems evasive, but then he winks at me. ‘Nothing too serious.’

‘Got it.’

The lift doors open and Brendan ushers me down a wide corridor whose walls are lined with a taupe-coloured linen. At the end of the corridor, a man stands perfectly still, his hands in his pockets. It looks like he’s waiting for us. As we approach, I can see that his hair is somewhere in the dark blond slash light brown region, swept back from his face. He’s tall and lean—less bulky than Brendan—and he doesn’t crack a smile as we stop before him, even though I’m smiling at him in a way that’s more jittery than anything else.

His lack of smile is unnerving.

He’s unnerving.

‘Hiya, mate,’ Brendan says easily.

‘Bren. Good to see you.’ He sounds friendlier than he looks, although his face seems to soften a little as he shakes Brendan’s hand. Up close, his eyes are an astonishing colour—cold and light grey and strangely beautiful—but it’s his impassivity that stands out the most.