“What?” I bark down the line to Sam, pulling out of the lane again but quickly zipping back in when I see a bus coasting toward me. The driver sounds his horn, flipping me the finger as he sails past.

“Good to hear your voice,” Sam quips, and my lip curls at the bumper-to-bumper traffic ahead. I’m not in the mood for his happy-go-lucky disposition today. It’s been a shitstorm from the second I opened my eyes—even before, actually—and the one thing that was guaranteed to improve it has canceled on me. “Where are you?”

“Stuck in traffic,” I grunt. “On my way into the city.” To talk some sense into someone. Or maybe I’ll fuck some sense into her.

“Yeah, traffic’s shocking today, mate.”

“Did you just call for a chit-chat?”

“Fuck me, who’s shat in your coffee this morning?” he asks, and I roll my eyes, giving my horn a few irritated smacks.

“Sam, what do you want?” I ask.

“I’m meeting Drew for a lunchtime pint.”

“That’s nice,” I say, full of sarcasm. “You two lovebirds have fun.”

“We would, but he’s just called me to cancel. Something about sealed bids and a deadline.”

“I haven’t got time for a quick pint.” I’m too busy going crazy. And has he forgotten I’m not drinking? Although, admittedly, I could really fucking do with one right now.

“That’s not why I’m calling. You wouldn’t believe who’s in here.”

I frown. “Who?”

“Your pretty little interior designer and a particularly fiery-looking redhead.”

I sit up straight in my seat. She’s having lunch with Kate? She canceled me to have lunch with her friend? “What bar?” I ask, edging out again, seeing the line of cars up ahead beginning to move.

“Baroque on Piccadilly. So, who’s the redhead?”

“Kate. She’s not your type.”

“She looks very much my type from where I’m standing,” Sam muses. I’d laugh if I was in the mood. Sam’s type drops their knickers at the drop of a hat. Usually at The Manor. I don’t know Kate all that well, but I get the feeling she’d play hard to get. A bit like her annoying friend.

“I’ve got to go,” I say when the traffic finally breaks, giving me space to put my foot down. I hang up on Sam and overtake the car in front, my Aston screaming. It’s not the only thing.

I make it into the city finally, park illegally, and stalk my way to the bar, hammering out a text as I go.

There better be a GOOD fucking reason for you standing me up & needing time isn’t one. Someone had better be dying. I’m going out of my fucking mind, lady. NO KISS