The Truce (London Suits 1)

“Payne, eyes up,” he instructed, smirking.

I blushed. Of course he’d catch me staring at him.

“Uh, sorry. I was thinking,” I muttered.

He rolled his eyes but said no more, letting the subject drop.

“Luke?”

“What?”

“Do you think we’ll be able to manage it? This truce thing?” I bit my lip, nerves overtaking me.

Luke shrugged. “Can you go for longer than thirty minutes without doing something to annoy me?”

It was my turn to shrug. “Probably not,” I admitted with a grin, leaning back in my chair.

He grinned back at me. Luke. Smiled at me. Voluntarily.

I grabbed my phone from the desk and took a quick photo. Luke’s face morphed from amused to confused.

“What are you doing, Payne?” he asked, his tone wary.

“Evidence,” I said, gripping my phone tightly in my hand.

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Evidence?”

“That time in the pub, you said you’d smile at me when pigs fly. So I was taking a photo to preserve the evidence, since I never thought I’d see the day,” I explained.

“Payne.” His voice was a groan.

He dropped his head into his arms.

“I honestly don’t know whether to laugh or strangle you,” came the muffled voice.

“Laugh. Pick laugh,” I suggested with a cheerful grin.

To my surprise, after that initial moment, we were quite productive. Luke outlined the project proposal for Delny Drinks. They wanted a complete website overhaul, to elevate them from a niche spirits manufacturer to an exclusive, high-end brand. Alongside the website overhaul, we’d work on their social media presence, which was almost non-existent. Perusing the list of spirits they owned, I was pleased to see that they manufactured a small range of flavoured gins alongside their whiskies.

“Do we get to taste test the merchandise?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows at Luke.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” he drawled. “Got your eye on the gin, have you?” He eyed me knowingly, pen poised over his notepad.

“Maybe.” I couldn’t stop the grin that was threatening to overtake my face.

“I thought as much. Now, I’m going to divide up the tasks, and we can get to work.”

“Sure thing, boss,” I said flippantly.

“Boss?” he questioned.

“Well, yeah. Technically Ethan’s our boss, but you’re in charge of this project and I’m working under you.”

My words seemed to hang in the air. An unwanted vision flashed through my mind—me, under Luke—no. I brought that thought to a screeching halt before it could take root. Was Luke’s mind working along similar lines? His eyes darkened, an inscrutable expression flitting across his face before he closed his eyes and it was gone, his professional demeanour firmly back in place.

“I’m pulling up the Delny website now,” he murmured, turning his laptop screen so we could both see. Following his cue, I started making notes as we navigated through the pages, quickly becoming absorbed in the task.

Glancing at my phone, I gasped.