Liar Liar

The pair tussle for a moment, Byron’s gaze wicked as he tortures her with kisses and tickles and stubble rubs, and she’s still holding the baby who continues to sleep undisturbed. Meanwhile, I experience a pang of longing. I want this. The relationship. A man who’ll love me and tease me and exasperate me in equal turns. A man who’ll take a chance. Who’ll turn his life upside down for me all because he wants to love me like I’ll love him.

‘You are such an ass.’ Her complaining yet smiling face turns back to me, her expression morphing from playful to concern almost immediately. ‘What’s wrong? Why are you crying?’

Urgh, not again! I bite my lip and shrug in response, fighting the welling tears.

Jesus H. Enough with the waterworks.

The phone muffles for a minute. Her baby daughter whimpers as she’s passed to her father’s arms. An instruction is issued for all and sundry to eat their carrots under threat of no dessert. A door closes. Footsteps echo along a wooden floor, and then she’s there again, my best friend’s face filling the screen of my phone.

‘Tell me.’ It’s not a demand but a permission to let go.

Despite feeling bad about interrupting her family’s meal, I do.

‘You remember the French guy back in March?’

‘I’m unlikely to forget the man you nearly killed with your dildo.’

Despite my blubbering, I chuckle at her description. ‘That sounds so much worse than what actually happened, even if he did end up with a concussion. You make it sound like I badly used him.’

‘Okay, the man you whacked with your dildo, not ravaged via the butt. The French hottie,’ she prompts, cutting off my protestations. ‘I get it. You’re hearing nothing but sexy French accents, and you realised you suddenly miss his ass—though not to badly use.’

God, this woman makes me smile. ‘Not even close.’

‘Spit it out. Or am I supposed to guess?’

‘He’s my new boss.’

‘No way.’ Eyes wide, her answer is awe-filled.

‘Well, my boss’s boss’s boss. Several times removed, probably.’ He owns my ass? My work ass, maybe.

‘How? Why? Oh, my God. Did he think the coffee machine wasn’t enough?’ Amber doesn’t bother to hide her disbelief. And why would she? I’m having difficulty believing it myself. ‘Is this why you’re upset? He’s got you there under false pretences?’

‘No, these are just pre-period tears.’ Hormones and overwhelm, I guess. ‘As for this job, Monaco is full of women who look like models. Why would he go to such huge amounts of trouble just to get me out here?’

‘Yeah, I see your point,’ she agrees. ‘Especially as you have a face like a dog butt.’

‘I’m not saying I’m ugly,’ I protest. ‘I’m just not in the supermodel league.’

‘So true. All that luxurious hair, that face, and those boobs. You definitely don’t look like a cross between Sophia Loren and Gigi Hadid or anything. Add in your heinous personality, and I’m surprised Monsieur Baguette, MB now that you’re very particular friends, didn’t pay to send you to outer Mongolia.’

Everyone needs a friend like Amber. A friend who’ll talk you up and talk you out of the biggest funk, even when you know you look like you ate Gigi Hadid.

‘Thank you, my cheer squad of one. But the fact is, I could be the embodiment of Gigi or a young Sophia, and I’m not sure that would’ve been enough to induce him to bring me here. Not the way he looked at me when I bumped into him yesterday.’

If our first meeting had been in the office, I might’ve thought differently. But the way he looked at me in that hallway . . . eesh.

‘First of all, this happened yesterday, and you didn’t call? And what do you mean the way he looked at you?’

‘He didn’t seem pleased to see me. In fact, he looked mightily pissed.’

‘Okay. I can buy that. He’s probably still having nightmares about purple dildos.’ She doesn’t bother to hide how hilarious she finds this, even going as far as making herself go cross-eyed as she mimes hitting herself on the head with an invisible dong.

‘And that’s not even a little bit funny.’ I pinch my forefinger and thumb to show exactly how unfunny I find her suggestion, even as I smile at her ridiculousness. ‘I didn’t cause his concussion.’

‘I’m sure you didn’t help it, babe. But anyway, it sounds like your new job isn’t an elaborate ploy. So that’s good, right?’

‘I don’t know. Something is off about the whole thing.’ I don’t mean my panties yesterday. Much.

‘Maybe he was embarrassed to see you? You know, after the whole smash and dash.’

‘The smash and . . .?’ Got it. ‘Never mind.’

‘Yep, you saved his life, and he repaid you by ejaculating before evacuating,’ she continues unnecessarily. ‘The old hit and quit.’ She throws her thumb over her shoulder.