Elaine scurries off, shutting the door behind her—good—and I realise I've been staring at Marlowe’s mouth for an uncomfortably long time while my brain took a trip to Fantasy Island. This is why I take Ritalin on weekdays, for fuck's sake. Not that any amount of brain food could keep me focused on spreadsheets with her in the room.

Shiny new catamarans be damned, because she’s undoubtedly going to be my new favourite toy.

I can’t wait to take her for a ride.

CHAPTER 7

Marlowe

Okay.

Brendan Sullivan is ridiculous. Like, the kind of ridiculous that would make women more at ease than me with their sexuality (read: anyone) drop their panties just like that but makes me want to let out some kind of high-pitched, nervous titter, because I’m here to interview with some kind of bad boy, alpha-hole romance hero come to life for the well-paid honour of sleeping with him.

If I allow myself to think about it like that, even for a second, I will probably faint.

Or pee myself.

I mean, I realised he was extremely attractive that night at the exhibition, but I was more focused on meeting Athena’s new boss-with-benefits, if I’m honest. And Brendan seemed shy that night, so I didn’t really give him much of a second thought.

But now that I’m in his crazy corner office that’s conservatively three times bigger than my entire flat, and I’m alone with him, and he’s in CEO mode, and he’s found his voice—and his swagger—it’s absolutely impossible not to be affected by him.

First of all, he’s big. Bigger than I realised, and bigger than his brother. I used to play rugby and now lift serious weights big. The breadth of his shoulders and the heft of those arms under his beautiful navy suit are unmistakable. I’m tall, and I’m in Athena’s four-inch pale-pink suede Gianvito Rossi’s, but he still towers over me. He must be six-three or six-four. I find myself wondering if he’s built proportionally all over and have to talk myself down with a blush.

Stop it.

Second, he totally has a playboy tan. I bet he works his way all around the women of the Med over the summer, and I bet he’s disgustingly successful at it—so successful, in fact, that I wonder why the hell he needs a Seraph EA. If it wasn’t for those sky-blue eyes, the tan and almost black beard would be giving serious Mob vibes.

Third, I may have googled him far too extensively in the days since Athena suggested this gig, and I can’t conclude that I did myself any favours. I told myself it was purely for interview research purposes, but there’s context and there’s context.

The penchant-for-blondes thing? Helpful.

The penchant-for-blonde actual, literal supermodels thing? Unhelpful.