Acquainting myself with his career history and his rise through the ranks at Sullivan Construction? Helpful.

Acquainting myself with his net worth? Unhelpful.

As was happening upon a Tatler article citing him as the second most eligible bachelor in London last year (the current Duke of Oxford pipped him to the post), and reading a tell-all in the Daily Mail by a—platinum blonde, obviously—reality TV star he’d dated and allegedly dumped.

The article reeked of sour grapes while also being a blatant plug for her new line of planet-friendly yoga mats, but she didn’t hold back on slagging off his bedroom behaviour (“demanding bordering on aggressive”) or his maturity levels (“a spoilt five-year-old on a good day”).

A bratty kid by day and a wannabe porn star by night?

Fucking excellent.

From what I can tell, having done far too much of this “research”, I have two advantages over all the other women who cross his path and throw themselves at him.

One. I will do anything to make him happy and keep him satisfied. Anything.

Two. My only agenda is saving my daughter’s life. Unlike the rest of them, I have no interest in trying to become Mrs Brendan Sullivan, so he can rest easy that I’ll fuck him to his heart’s content without angling for a proposal.

Which brings me to the other elephant in the room—our questionnaires. I will fully admit to having completed mine while being half a bottle of wine down, a move that was as necessary as it was ill-judged. I answered yes to far too many things, even if Athena, who guided me through it over a video call, seconded Camille’s words: that I absolutely did not have to roll over and say yes to everything.

The problem is that neither Athena nor Camille have a daughter who needs hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth of medical care yesterday. So they can discern all they want, but I know that the more boxes I tick yes to, the more likely Brendan will offer me this job.

Is it irresponsible to opt in to potentially indulge in sex acts I may not be comfortable with?

Are you crazy?! Of course it is!!!!!!

But when you have purposely put the glossy Duke Children’s Hospital brochure directly in your line of sight as you fill out a sexy questionnaire, you will damn well complete said questionnaire in the way that has the best chance of getting you through the doors of that hospital.

Also, I was at home in my flat at the time. I was in my little sanctuary. It was a not dissimilar experience to watching 365 Days and idly wishing someone hot would bundle you up and kidnap you. It felt safe, like a distant fantasy that your nervous system is so confident is impossible that it’s happy to stand down and let you fantasise about.