The Truce (London Suits 1)

Me: What are you insinuating?

A-hole: Nothing. Can’t see you with someone ‘nice’ that’s all. And he’s a player. You’d be old news this time next week.

Me: Yeah, thanks for that. This conversation is over. Bye.

A-hole: Wait. I’m sorry.

Me: You’re sorry? Excuse me while I die of shock.

A-hole: OK I take that back.

Me: Whatever. I’m done with this.

A-hole: Hang on. What you doing right now?

Me: Don’t you have anyone else to annoy? I’m watching Netflix, same as 90% of people sitting at home on a Sat night.

A-hole: Elaborate. Watching what?

Me: Peaky Blinders.

A-hole: Good choice Payne. At least your taste in TV isn’t as insufferable as your personality.

Me: Argh! Why. Do. You. Have. To. Insult. Me. All. The. Time. And in case you didn’t get it through your thick head that was me, pissed off at you. Can you say ANYTHING without insulting me?

A-hole: Good question. Not sure TBH.

Me: One point for honesty, minus one hundred for your personality. Bye.

I turned my phone off and refused to let Luke Davenport cross my mind again.

4

Olivia

Following the crowd of office workers, I entered the large steel-and-glass skyscraper which housed Barrett London on the eighteenth floor, hearing the gentle whoosh of the sliding doors opening and closing behind me as I raced across the wide foyer. I nodded to the burly security guard and scanned my pass at the turnstiles to get to the lift area. It was only five minutes later than my usual arrival time, but I knew I’d timed it badly as soon as I squeezed into the lift.

The crush of bodies made it almost impossible to move, and I stumbled backwards, tripping over someone’s foot. My back crashed into a hard torso and I heard an “oof” and flinched.

“Why do you have to be so fucking clumsy, Payne?” the low, angry voice hissed in my ear.

Just my luck. Of all the people to stumble into, it had to be Luke Davenport.

“I’m sorry. I tripped,” I hissed back.

“You will be,” he muttered. “Your hair is in my face. You need to move.”

“Where do you expect me to go?” I bit out, trying to keep my voice down. “The lift is full.”

I huffed in frustration and crossed my arms, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. It would have been easier to pretend, if I couldn’t feel the heat his body was radiating, the (admittedly delicious) spicy scent of his aftershave permeating my nostrils.

“Did you bathe in that aftershave this morning, or something?” The words spilled out of me before I could stop them.

Luke leaned down, his mouth close to my ear. “Been thinking about me bathing, have you?”

“What? No!” I screeched, far too loudly for being in such an enclosed space. Heads turned, and my cheeks grew hot at the unwanted attention. Luke’s dark chuckle only served to infuriate me more, and I clenched my jaw, willing the lift to move faster.

After an interminable wait, we finally reached the fifteenth floor, where the lift emptied enough to create some breathing room. I breathed a sigh of relief and moved to the opposite side of the lift, as far away from Luke as I could manage, stealing a glance in his direction. He stood, body encased in a tailored navy suit, with his arms crossed over his chest, his posture radiating hostility.