In reality, I’m thrilled that she’s excited about being out with me. I made it very clear that this was a date. Not my usual kind of “slutty first date” where I try to get in my date’s knickers, and definitely not like our first “date” at that club. But I wanted her to acknowledge verbally that this was a romantic date. It feels to me like we’re making progress, and I need her on board with that. I’ve told her I’ll wait as long as it takes to prove myself to her, but in reality, I am not a patient man.

And definitely not when I know exactly what and who I want.

We’ll be sitting at one of the best tables in the house tonight with a great view of the stage. But before we take our seats, there’s someone I need to introduce Marlowe to.

Santiago Vale, AKA Santi, is an old mate of mine. We were at uni together and have always stayed tight. He’s achieved great success, not only as the CEO of his family’s multi-billion pound classical music label, but also with his career as a tenor. He tours with Andrea Bocelli and regularly sells out the biggest arenas in every city around the world. Tonight’s intimate audience isn’t a money-spinner in the slightest; it’s a way for him to indulge his great love of singing in an intimate setting and a way for punters like me and Marls to enjoy a truly unforgettable evening.

I just hope the surprise I have planned for her proves the icing on the cake.

MARLOWE

‘So,’ Brendan says as he leads me by the hand between the tables in the direction of the stage, ‘tonight’s performer is Santiago Vale. I hope you’re a fan.’

I stop still and tug on his hand, my jaw dropping. ‘Santiago Vale is performing here this evening? What the hell?’

He grins at the look on my face. ‘So she is a fan.’

‘Of course I’m a fan,’ I hiss. Hard not to be. The man is a dead ringer for Tom Ellis and has a voice like an angel. ‘But he usually plays massive venues, and he’s not a jazz singer. What on earth is he doing here?’

‘He likes to do the occasional small venue, just to keep it real, you know? And I’m glad you like him, because we’re going to go and say a quick hello.’

I stare at him in horror. There’s no denying Brendan is an entitled git, but thinking he can waltz backstage and say “a quick hello” to one of the most famous tenors in the world is another level of cockiness.

He laughs. ‘Relax. Santi and I are old mates. I’m his daughter’s godfather, actually. Violet.’