by Sofia Grey
More stations flashed by, the car filled up some more, and she pressed closer to him. He didn’t realize how much shorter than him she was. Her face only came to his shoulders.
“See what you’ve been missing?” She had to raise her voice to be heard, as the doors opened and closed.
Marcus wondered how they appeared to the other travelers. Did they look like a couple? Like friends? Lovers? Or boss and employee? And why did he care?
Marianne tugged at his sleeve and snagged his attention. “We change at the next stop. This line doesn’t go to Oxford Circus.”
The name made him smile, and he bent down to speak into her ear. “I always imagined there was a real circus here, but I guess there’s not?” She shook her head, her face alight with mirth. He moved with her to the doors, then followed her through a maze of tunnels to another platform. A train had just left. There was the empty ghostlike feeling of air rushing through the tunnel and the dusty silence in its wake. The electronic board advised they had three minutes to wait.
Marianne watched him with an amused expression. “I bet you haven’t done any of the tourist spots, either.”
He shrugged, enjoying her teasing. “Like where?”
“Trafalgar Square? The National Gallery? Hyde Park? The London Eye? You haven’t, have you?” The train arrived, and they stepped into a carriage. “Only one stop. Don’t get comfortable.”
Minutes later, they emerged from the underground into the bustling nightlife of SoHo. Marianne linked their arms and they set off down the street, chattering as they walked. “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?”
“Working.” It was what he did every weekend.
“Well, there’s been a change of plan. Tomorrow afternoon, I’m showing you the city. We’ll do the whole tourist thing. Maybe even Tussauds.”
“It sounds fun, but—”
“But nothing. One afternoon, Marcus. That’s all. I’m sure you said to take downtime now, before the audit ramps up.”
“Have you always been this bossy?”
“Yep. That’s why Thaddeus hired me. You got a problem with that?”
He could spend another weekend hunched over his laptop, or he could take a break. One afternoon. It was a no-brainer.
Chapter Five
Sylvie’s shower and dress routine only took ten minutes. Even with a leisurely application of makeup, she was ready early, but to her delight, Rico was waiting in the reception area of the gym.
His hair was damp and messy, and when she stood beside him, he smelled fragrant and clean. Like her, he was still in work clothes.
He gave a quick smile. “Hey, there. What’s the plan?”
It didn’t seem feasible that this movie-star-handsome man was going out for a drink with her, and Sylvie wanted to make the most of it. She’d given thought to this question while she dressed. “How about the Frog & Bucket, up the street? It’s your basic wine bar, but they have all kinds of food, snacks through to meals, and it’s not far to walk.”
“Sure.” He nodded, slid his glasses up his nose, and followed her outside, before falling into step beside her.
Sylvie had no gloves, and the cold air nipped at her fingers. She shoved her hands deep inside her pockets and tried to think of something to say. She wanted to hit the right tone—friendly, not suggestive, not too obvious. Flirting was something Lara excelled at. Within seconds of meeting any guy, she could have him eating out of the palm of her hand. Sylvie wished she’d asked for some tips.
“Here we are.” She pushed the door open, enjoying how the cold crisp night gave way to a bright, steamy atmosphere.
Rico nudged her arm. “There are two seats at the end of the bar.”
She claimed one of the stools, and Rico took the other. He lounged there, his back against the wall, looking at home in the crowded bar. Sylvie noticed the way his gaze roamed back and forth over the assembled strangers, and her heart fell. He had to be looking for someone, probably to break up the coziness of their twosome. To her relief, he snapped his attention to her, gave her a friendly smile, and asked what she’d like to order.
Sylvie grabbed a menu. “How do you feel about sharing a platter?”
“Go for it. What do you suggest?”
His delicious scent filled her nose when he leaned closer and pored over the options with her. She wanted to pinch herself in delight. This had to be a dream. “The Nibble Platter is good,” she said.
“Works for me.” He lifted a hand, to get the barman’s attention, but looked right back at Sylvie. “What are you drinking?”
“A bottle of Stella, please.”
He ordered two, along with the food, and then settled back against the wall again. “So what made you take up kickboxing?” His voice, with a faint hint of a Spanish accent, reminded her of melted chocolate. Very sexy. She could listen to him talking all day, but he’d asked a question and she hadn’t answered yet.
She took a swig of her beer while she collected her thoughts. “I was mugged. Nobody expects it to happen to them, and when it did, I was petrified. I didn’t bother struggling, I just let them take my laptop and handbag. I decided, there and then, I wanted to be able to defend myself, and not be a victim again. I liked the sound of kickboxing, and here I am now, with a yellow belt.” She gave him a proud smile.
His dark eyes shone with sympathy. “I’m sorry that happened to you. You’re right, though. You’ll know how to react, if you need to.”
“As long as I don’t panic. You know what made it worse? It was broad daylight. Three in the afternoon, on the steps of the office, and nobody saw anything. It was beyond the reach of the security cameras, and the guard was looking the other way at the time. The mugger snatched my bags, pushed me to the ground, and legged it. The whole thing was over in seconds.”
Rico’s brows tugged together into a puzzled expression. “On the steps of the office? You mean the TM-Tech building?”
“Yes.”
“What did they take, again?”
“My laptop. I was on the way to a conference, to deliver the presentations and materials for use the next day. Murphy’s Law I suppose. They took my handbag too, with my credit cards and security pass. We’re told not to wear our passes when we leave the building.”
“When was this?”
“Six months ago. I’d only been with TM-Tech a few weeks. It was a complete pain; I had to have a new security pass and all my keys re-cut, to say nothing of my own things.”
His frown deepened. “And what did they say at work about it?”
“They were really good. Apparently, I wasn’t the first. There was a spate of muggings in the area around that time. Four or five others were nailed there too. It helped a bit that I wasn’t the only target, but—you know—I still felt so feeble.” Sylvie looked at him. “That’s when I decided I wasn’t going to be a victim again.”
He nodded, his gaze focused in the distance, and Sylvie wondered if she was boring him.
“That’s my story,” she said in a bright voice. “You did ask.”
“Yeah.” He gave her his attention again. “You gave me an idea about something. Nice one.”
The food arrived, and as they munched, Sylvie asked him why he took up the sport.
“I like to keep fit, and I like the idea of self-defence. This seems like a good, solid workout.” Their fingers touched briefly, as they both reached for the same onion ring. Sylvie withdrew, but he gestured toward it. “I think you got there first.”
The already-busy bar was more crowded now. Rico ordered another round of beers and hitched his stool closer. “So what else do you do? I’m new in town, and I don’t know London at all.”
Sylvie knew what she’d like to do with Rico, and it would involve a fair bit of exercise. She dragged her wayward thoughts back. “I go running. I live near Victoria Park, about twenty minutes away on the Tube, and that has some great circuits. And I like to go to the cinema and to concerts. There’s live music on all the time, if you know where t
o go.” She shied away from telling him she hoped to take part in some live music herself. That was a story for another date—if she didn’t scare him off. “What about you? What sort of things do you do for fun?”
He pulled a rueful face. “It’s lame, but I’m usually too busy working. I hit the gym, run on the treadmill, pump weights—that kinda thing.”
“So what happens when this secondment is over? Do you go back to Houston?”
He shrugged. “I’ll go where I’m sent.” His lips curved in a smile. “So if I had some free time—and it wouldn’t be much—do you think you might be able to show me around?”
Dear God, she’d love to.
“Yes, of course. When?”
He glanced at his watch—a chunky affair on his left wrist. “How about tonight? Or do you go to bed early?”
The challenge was clear. Sylvie grinned and toasted him with her beer. “I’m game if you are. Where do you want to start?”
* * * *
It took a couple of beers and a selection of thali dishes, before Marianne saw Marcus relaxing. He’d been stressed all evening, and she wondered what she could do to help. In the end, she talked about all sorts of nonsense to distract him, and watched as some of the tension left his handsome face.
She showed him how to eat thali—spoonfuls of each dish with a little rice, varying the flavors and textures, scooping foods onto the chapattis, and sampling the different pickles and chutneys.
He flinched at the heat of the fierce pickles, and Marianne hid her smile.
“More beer will help,” she said. To give him credit, he didn’t balk at any of it, and they stuffed themselves to bursting point. Plenty of beers too.
It was easy to forget he was her boss. They’d been friends first, and Marianne fell quickly into old patterns of conversation. She felt comfortable with him in a way that always surprised her.
They sat at their table long after they finished eating. With the waiting staff clearing tables all around, Marianne gazed at the debris from their feast and the trail of empty Kingfisher lager bottles. They couldn’t stay all night, much as she’d like to.
Maybe Marcus would open up to her now.
She sat back in her chair and smiled. “What’s wrong, Marcus?” She shrugged, holding his gaze. “Sometimes it helps to talk, and you know it will go no further.”
He sighed and rubbed a hand across the blond stubble on his chin. “You know how it is when your work life is shit but your home life is good? It balances out.”
She nodded.
He fiddled with his bottle and picked at the paper label. “Or if your home life is shit, but you’re fine at work. You can manage that one as well.”
Marcus gazed into space, and she wondered if he’d forgotten she was there.
When he spoke again, his voice was low. “How the hell do you cope when they’re both fucked? I’m sinking at TM-Tech—the leak, the rumours, the stock value plummeting. I’m angry at Thaddeus, for thinking I can run Europe. I’m angry at Jordan, for having the courage to walk away. And I’m angry at myself, for not coping.”
He was quiet for a minute, then met her gaze. His pain was almost tangible. “I feel like I’m losing my wife. I love Louisa. I’ve loved her from the first moment I saw her. But she’s angry with me all the time, and the one thing she wants, I can’t seem to give her. And then there’s Ted, our little boy. Weeks go by, before I get any time with him. He’s gonna grow up not knowing me.”
Every instinct in Marianne demanded that she reach out and hold his hand, but it would be wrong. He might misunderstand. No matter how much she cared for him, she could only be his friend.
“You’re more than capable of running Europe. Don’t give me that bullshit.” She made her voice firm. He opened his eyes wide in surprise, and the wounded expression on his face made her chest hurt. “Thaddeus has complete confidence in you, and he’s an excellent judge of character. I guarantee you, once we nail this leak and you start taking some weekends off, things will look much better.”
His skepticism was clear from the set of his mouth.
She tried again. “Everyone has bad times. We all have days where we want to pull up the duvet and hide, but they pass. You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re going to burn out if you’re not careful, and how will that help?”
He picked some more at the remains of the beer label, his focus on the bottle. Marianne placed a hand on his arm. His gaze, wary and still in pain, leapt to her face.
“You’re my boss. If I came to you and told you everything you’ve said to me, what would you tell me to do?”
He looked thoughtful. “I’d tell you to take some time off, to delegate more, and to tell your line manager you were struggling.”
She gave him a little smile. “Anything else?”
His blue-eyed gaze held hers. “I’d tell you to spend some time with your partner and relax.”
Marianne removed her hand, picked up the remains of her beer, and leaned back, breaking eye contact. She took a swig and beckoned to the waiter for the bill.
Marcus was silent, his face shuttered.
She ran her credit card through the payment machine and shrugged into her coat. “Come on, sunshine,” she said. “The night’s not over yet. There’s something I want to show you.”
* * * *
Sylvie considered where to take Rico. It was too cold to go to London Bridge or any of the other scenic spots, but she knew half a dozen pubs and clubs that would be jumping all night. They hopped onto the Tube and headed for the East End.
For fun and to see his reaction, she took him first into one of the Irish Bars. Traditional music wailed, all violins and drums, with a bunch of girls doing Riverdance moves in front of the band. Sylvie bought them an Irish whiskey each and watched Rico’s face as he absorbed the atmosphere. He looked baffled at first by the noise, and his perplexed frown made her giggle. She thought the music sounded like a pack of howling dogs, but he grinned and leaned down to speak in her ear.
“It’s like in Titanic.”
One drink was enough, and she led him out to the relative quiet of the street again. “I’m surprised you admit to seeing Titanic,” she teased. “It’s a bit of a chick-flick.”
“Yeah. I saw it abroad. There wasn’t much else on that day.”
“Have you travelled much? I wanted to do a gap year but couldn’t afford it.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been here and there. Lots of business trips.”
“I don’t even do those. It’s a hard life at the bottom of the corporate pile.” She gave a mock sigh.
“Travelling isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Most of it is spent hanging around, waiting for flights, or in lonely hotel rooms.”
Sylvie glanced at him as they walked along. Was that a hint? He might be the hottest piece of muscle to ever grace the floors of TM-Tech but she had no intention of falling straight into bed with him. Not on the first date. Maybe.
It wasn’t far to walk to the Lavender Room, her favorite nightspot in this part of the city. From the outside, it looked like a scruffy warehouse, and it was easy to walk past it if you didn’t know it was there. She sensed rather than saw Rico’s caution, as she hauled the outer door open and headed down the stairs to the basement.
She paid entry fees to the guy on the door, they had their hands stamped, and then she led Rico inside.
“Wow.” He looked stunned, and Sylvie laughed.
It got her like that every time. The basement looked like a 1930s jazz club, with a black singer crooning on the small stage and a four-piece band accompanying her. Even the drinks looked authentic. There were no beer bottles, only cocktails and glasses of champagne. Anti-smoking laws meant the hazy atmosphere was artificially created, but it added to a hell of an ambience.
“It gets better.” She guided him out of a side door, along a corridor, and into another room. This one had two pianos facing each other, the matching pianists taking requests for a kind of impromptu karaoke.
/> A smaller room had stand-up comedy, and upstairs were two spacious rooms for dancing. One was done out like a seventies disco, with lasers and glitter balls, while the other—her favorite—featured live rock bands and a mini mosh-pit.
To start with, they settled in the jazz club and tackled the cocktails. Over a couple of extra-dry Martinis, they continued to swap stories.
Rico spoke about his academic background and how he’d worked in a variety of corporate businesses. He said talking about his work was dull—who found accounting interesting?—so they talked about food, music, and films. Sylvie told him about her two older brothers and mentioned that she played bass guitar with Matt.
“You’ve got hidden talents.” Rico chinked his glass against hers. “I can’t play anything at all.”
His compliment warmed her, and buoyed on a tide of alcohol, she mentioned her most recent ex—Chris, the commitment-phobe. “He hated the idea of me playing in a band. I don’t know why I stayed as long with him as I did.”
She kept her tone light, and it was the perfect opening for Rico to talk about his love life or lack of one.
He stayed silent, tapping his fingers softly against his drink. “Let’s go try out the rock room,” he said.
She followed him upstairs, her common sense battling with her instinct. He might have a girlfriend at home, or even a wife. She’d flirted as much as she knew how, but it had come to nothing. It was time to admit defeat and enjoy the rest of the evening for what it was.
The music was excellent, and Rico was keen to dance with her, but it put an end to any kind of conversation.
By midnight she was wilting, and they agreed to call it a night. Outside, in the freezing night air, they found a taxi and headed for Sylvie’s apartment. She didn’t suggest he come in, and he didn’t ask.
“I’ll pick up the cab fare,” he said. “You paid for the club.”
She nodded. That worked. She hesitated before she climbed out. He showed no desire to kiss her, and that was fine, but she felt awkward leaving. She settled for a quick, casual hug, said, “Thanks for a fun evening,” and scrambled outside before she had time to see his expression. Graceless, much?
