“I’m free for lunch, if that works?”
“He’ll be available at twelve. Please send details of the restaurant.”
Shit.
It was only ten thirty, but I had to interrupt Andrew’s Ashtanga practice. If I was about to get fired for agreeing to a meeting on another continent, I’d rather know now.
I knocked on the door and just went straight in. I glanced the length of his office, half expecting to see his tight ass in downward dog, before finding him behind his desk, just like he always was.
“I just got a call,” I said.
He stayed completely silent while I told him I’d managed to get a lunch in the diary on Friday. In New York.
“So book our flights,” he responded.
“You want to come too?” I hadn’t thought past hoping Andrew didn’t lose it for agreeing to meet Goode in the US. Logistics hadn’t crossed my mind. We were going to travel together? Was he going to ignore me the entire time? Or was James, the man who existed whenever Andrew was out of the office, going to accompany me? I supposed I should just be grateful that he hadn’t yelled for agreeing to a meeting across an ocean.
“Of course. This is my deal. My money. This should be my meeting. I’m not going to leave you to wing it. We’ll need to prepare. Debrief and regroup. This is good news, Sofia. But it’s only the beginning.”
I grabbed on to the back of one of the visitor chairs opposite his desk to steady myself.
Sofia.
Andrew had never called me by name before.
James had. Usually when he was naked and fucking me.
Hearing it from Andrew’s lips seemed to tilt the floor and left me unsteady on my feet.
Normally I could separate Andrew from James without any trouble. Andrew was moody, monosyllabic, and down-right rude most of the time—even if he had a nice ass and a sexy smirk. James was . . . different. He was considered and deliberate in everything he did. He knew what he wanted and how he wanted me. He was sultry and sensuous and seemed to have put a spell on my vagina.
James saw me. Craved me. Cared about my pleasure.
I wanted to go to New York with James. But I’d be booking a plane ticket for Andrew.
Twenty-Three
Sofia
He’d barely said a word to me for the last nine hours.
We’d travelled to Paddington by cab to take the Heathrow Express to the airport. When he first saw me, he’d asked for his tickets. I’d taken it as a good sign. Things were going to warm up between us and we’d have a productive working relationship.
But no. He’d managed to stay silent almost our entire trip, his head buried in his phone, or The Economist or The Financial Times. I was surprised he didn’t have eye strain.
As we arrived at the hotel check-in desk, I turned to ask him for his passport, only to find him already holding it out for me. I pulled my mouth into a sarcastic smile. “Thank you,” I said and turned to check us both in. Andrew kept tap, tap, tapping on his phone. No doubt he was up to level three hundred now on Clash of Clans. There was no way he was doing anything useful on that phone.
When the receptionist saw Andrew’s passport, she shifted gears entirely.
“Good to have you back with us, Mr. Blake, sir,” she said, lifting up on tiptoes to make sure he heard from behind me.
He turned and nodded in her direction. Within seconds, an older gentleman had arrived at Andrew’s side.
“Mr. Blake. Delighted to have you stay with us again. Can I accompany you to your room?” He glanced at me. “Your rooms.”
“Thank you, Mr. Parker,” Andrew replied, sliding the phone into his pocket.
Andrew hadn’t lost the use of his tongue then. Apparently it was just me he didn’t talk to.
“Miss Rossi,” Mr. Parker said as he led us to the elevators, “is it your first stay with us?”
My first stay at the New York Mandarin Oriental? No sirree, I like to come as often as possible, whack down my American Express Platinum card and reeelax. “It is,” I replied. “New York is home, so I don’t usually need a hotel.”
“A native,” he said, grinning. “Well, welcome. We hope you enjoy your stay with us. I’m the hotel manager. If you need anything, just ask for me.” He handed me his business card.
I’d not stayed in hotels very often, but I was wise enough to know that hotel managers didn’t escort every guest to their room.
Natalie couldn’t have known about the Andrew Manual. She would have told me. Thank goodness Andrew had a birthday before we travelled to New York and Joanna had found it. It had really helped me make travel arrangements. It told me that Andrew only flew British Airways first class and listed his hotel preferences. That’s how I’d ended up sipping a glass of champagne and watching The Hangover in my own personal “suite” thirty thousand feet up. And it’s how we’d ended up here. I couldn’t wait to tell my mom, but I wasn’t going to get to see her until just before we flew back tomorrow afternoon. I knew I had to focus until after I’d seen Bob Goode. Then we could catch up for a couple of hours.