‘I’m sure. You’ll have to come for beers,’ Ben replied in a blokey tone that was out of character. Was he being sarcastic? If he was, Ian didn’t seem to notice. He pulled me away, his hand still clenched around mine and swept me along the street to La Casa. My stomach was in knots, the furthest thing from my mind was food. I wanted to break free of Ian and run back towards Ben; to explain what was going on. But I didn’t dare look back.

Before I knew it, Ian had led me inside the restaurant, the warm air a welcome relief. The décor was modern but dimly lit, giving the illusion of privacy even though you were feet away from another table. I couldn’t get the image of Ben’s face out of my mind. He looked horrified. I had to get my head back in the game. I couldn’t focus on that now. Ian gave his name to the hostess and she seated us near the back of the restaurant. I slipped off my jacket and our waitress came over to give us menus.

‘Can I get you anything to drink?’ She beamed at us, her shift must have just started.

‘Can we have a bottle of the Catena Alta Malbec please?’ Ian asked. ‘Do you drink red wine?’ The question directed at me was an afterthought.

‘I’ll give it a go,’ I said, smiling at the waitress. ‘Could we have some water too, please?’

She nodded and stepped away, returning in less than a minute with a jug and two small glasses.

‘Sorry, I should have got you a gin, I wasn’t thinking. It’s been a long week and I fancied a bottle of red wine.’ He leant across the table and took my hand. I still couldn’t get used to him touching me. He did it a lot. I’m sure he thought I was a bit stiff, or maybe a prude. Perhaps he enjoyed a challenge and wanted to warm me up?

‘Trouble at work?’ I asked as the waitress returned and uncorked the bottle, leaving it on the table to breathe. I knew almost nothing about red wine. Every time I’d been offered a glass, it tasted like vinegar to me. Tonight was all about Ian and getting him into the right frame of mind so I was happy to go with the flow. I’d noticed, when we were seated, there was a large pot plant to my left which would come in handy later.

‘You know, trouble with clients again. One of the ad execs double-booked space we’d secured in a glossy magazine. Another client lost the plot as there was a typo in their advert that no one picked up on.’

‘Sounds stressful.’