“I don’t suppose there are any single women on the list?” There must be someone going without a boyfriend. I was single. So I’d track them down, seduce them, and be available as a plus one for weddings and bar mitzvahs. No, that was a shitty plan. I needed to be sure I was getting into this wedding—I wasn’t going to leave it to chance. I wanted some kind of guarantee or contract or something.

“The ones invited with an un-named plus one are at the bottom of the list,” Roy said. I turned the page to find one male name and three female names.

“Do you have their ages?” Or photographs.

“No, sir. I can find that out for you though.”

I needed to know exactly who these three people were.

Candice Gould

Suzie Dougherty

Stella London

Three single women—it had to be my way in. As invitees to M&K’s wedding, they had something I needed more than oxygen. I might not be able to guarantee a plus one by seducing them, but everyone wanted something. And I had considerable means at my disposal. I just needed to figure out what they wanted and then do a swap—a plus one for a pony or a week on a yacht or whatever it was people who didn’t work wanted in life. I just needed to track them down and make them an offer they wouldn’t want to refuse.

One of these women was the key to the Dawnay building.

Stella

Another day, another dollar, so the phrase goes. But for me another day meant another twelve hours at my crappy office with the crappiest boss who ever lived. Placing people I didn’t know into jobs they didn’t want was the worst. It might have only been two months into the role, but I’d never get used to being a recruitment consultant.

My mobile buzzed on my desk beside me and I glanced over my shoulder toward my boss’s empty office. She hated people taking personal calls. If breathing took time out of the day, she’d ban that too.

It was Florence. She never called me at work. Taking my life in my hands, I swiped to accept the call. “Hey,” I whispered.

“Are you in front of your computer?” she asked.

“Of course I am. I’m chained to it, what⁠—”

“I’m five minutes away. Whatever you do, don’t check your emails. Get your coat and meet me downstairs.”

Florence must be crazy. I was constantly checking my emails. “I’m staring at my inbox, Florence.”

“I mean your personal emails. Promise me. Log off and meet me downstairs or I’m going to march into your office and haul you out.”