The receptionist opened the door for her. Minnie picked at her thumbnail. Why did she feel like a schoolgirl being called in to see the headmaster? Quinn mouthed ‘sorry’, and patted the top of a large brown leather armchair. Minnie gave him an awkward smile and sat down on the sofa opposite. His office was huge. He had a giant glass desk with a large black swivel chair, a meeting room table with four chairs around it, a sofa, armchair and a walnut coffee table. His office was bigger than her entire flat. Oh god, maybe this was some kind of Fifty Shades of Grey scenario and the pies had just been a ruse to get her up here and show off his big fancy office and secret sex dungeon.

Minnie looked around the room, wondering where the entrance to a secret sex dungeon might be. There was a bookcase at the far end of the room – maybe you pulled out a book and the whole wall swivelled around. Maybe the sofa had a lever and dropped you down into a hidden vault below. Perhaps that would be more James Bond than Christian Grey. Minnie found her mind wandering – contemplating whether there were architects who specialised in designing secret office sex dungeons.

‘Yes, I know,’ Quinn said into the phone, ‘but that’s what my recommendations are. If you don’t want to implement them, that’s your business. You paid me to find the holes in your growth strategy – those are the holes.’

There was a pause while the person on the other end spoke. Quinn rolled his eyes at Minnie, conveying that he was trying to get off the call.

‘Listen, Donald, can we pick this up in person tomorrow? I’ve just had someone walk into my office and I … yes, someone more important than you … Did you get those pies I sent over today? Well, it’s the chef who made them.’

Quinn sat down in the armchair opposite Minnie. He crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in the chair. Minnie couldn’t help looking at Quinn’s legs, they were so muscular and firm, his trousers cut perfectly around his sculpted thighs.

‘Yes I know they are good … Well, yes she is, but that’s irrelevant … I will give you her details, I have to go.’ Quinn smiled at her as he hung up, the dimple on his left cheek creasing into life, ‘Sorry about that.’

Minnie clutched her hands together.

‘You didn’t need to order all those pies,’ she said, shifting her gaze to the floor. ‘When I mentioned about my business issues, I didn’t mean for you to … If anything, I owe you money for the lamp.’

‘Please don’t worry about the lamp, Minnie. I should have explained about my mother,’ Quinn exhaled slowly, pausing to find the right words. ‘She has health issues. She finds some things difficult to deal with.’