I quietly check my phone with one hand, leaving the other on Mark’s sleek head. Camille has sent a message wishing me luck for today, which is sweet, and Athena has added me to the Seraphim group chat. I don’t know any of them yet except for Athena’s good friend Sophia, but they’ve all chimed in with tips and messages of support that range from sweet and supportive to filthy and hilarious.

I smile to myself, grateful for the reminder that, no matter how weird this new lifestyle might be, I’m not the only one out there living it. I’m in no doubt as to my reasons for doing this, but it hurts to imagine little Tabs going about her innocent day at school when I’ve had a dangerously hot man dressing and undressing me in designer rags all morning.

If I’m making a sacrifice, surely it should feel harder?

When I’ve locked my phone, I close my eyes and zone back into Brendan’s conversation. He’s still on the phone with Elaine.

‘No. Tell him he’s got to liaise with the boiler guy. I’ve had enough of his muppetry. Oh, and send flowers to that woman from Saturday night, will you? Ava? Eva? I’ll text you her address… I dunno, something pretty and expensive.’

My hand freezes against Mark’s comforting warmth. Because, just like that, Brendan has hit me with a very timely, very helpful reminder that I’m not the only woman he’s lavishing with pretty and expensive goods.

I’m an employee. A new novelty. But I’d do well to remember that this gorgeous, charming guy is most likely spinning a hell of a lot of plates.

I just hope I don’t shatter into pieces when he drops me.

CHAPTER 19

Brendan

I’m antsy as fuck by the time we approach our offices, which are based in the heart of the Docklands, in Butler’s Wharf. Crawling through Monday traffic from the centre of town is not a good use of time by anyone’s standards, and spending a good chunk of my morning in Selfridges isn’t a good use of time by my standards.

The parts where I got to watch Marlowe trying on sexy AF lingerie were fan-fucking-tastic, don’t get me wrong, but the rest of it was excruciating. I spend most of the journey firing off admin requests to Plain Elaine and dealing with emails. My email strategy centres around deleting everything possible and shooting back replies to everything else. It’s an endless game of tennis, and as we approach Butler’s Wharf, every single ball I had is now littering someone else’s court.