Page 46 of From London, With Love

A ding from my coat pocket has me reaching for my phone, already knowing who it is. Did I give my boss a specific text tone so I’d know if a message was from him without looking at it? Perhaps. This is a great time to take some advice given by an old therapist of mine—don’t overanalyse everything, Lara.

Carter

Are you on your way up? My father wants to speak with us.

The man in question suggested we swap numbers earlier in the week. “Strictly for professional purposes, of course,” is what he’d said. And I’d agreed, of course, but that hasn’t stopped the intrusive thoughts from popping up late at night: what’s the worst that could happen if I sent him an un-work-related text?

I hadn’t yet decided if it was worth risking my job to find out.

Hisfather?Wanting to speak withus?Oh, but of course, he’s the ‘& Sons’ part of J. L. & Sons. I briefly recall Anna explaining the history of the family-owned company on my first day, but a lot of the details went in one ear and out the other.

That first day was a whirlwind eight hours; I’ve honestly surprised myself by recalling anything at all that happened on Monday. I guess it’s a little hard to forget that not only am I now working under the man who lingers in all corners of my mind, but I’m practically employed by his father too.

My first instinct was to assume nepotism when I heard the Managing Director’s son was the CEO, but Anna quickly dismantled that thought by detailing Carter’s extensive law background. It made me wonder why such a renowned lawyer would give that up to become a CEO? Perhaps I’d ask him one day.

Considering Frederick is Carter’s dad, and the head of the company, my initial reaction is to overthink—one of my many useless talents. What have we done that’s caused him to want to speak with us? Did someone find out about the bookstore encounter? Was I caught staring at Carter for longer than appropriate? I really need to stop doing that. Was he caught staring at me? It’s unlikely but also quite possible, considering I myself have caught him staring on more than one occasion this week.

Me

Coming now.

The elevator ride seems to take longer than the build-up in a slow-burn romance. What if all of the above has happened and I’m being let go as a result, and his father is the one who’s requested it? What if I’m walked out by security?

“Nice day, isn’t it?” I blurt out to the woman next to me, whose name I’m yet to learn. I’m not typically one to engage in small talk with near strangers, but I’m not exactly firing on all cylinders right now. She hesitantly side-eyes me before muttering her agreement and dashing out of the elevator at the next floor.

Oh my god, does she know what Carter and I did? How could she possibly know? Does everyone know?

Taking a shaky breath as the elevator doors open on my floor, I rub my slick palms on my trousers, wiping away the anxious sweat.

Relax, Lara. Just relax.

As I walk into our office, I’m treated to a version of Carter I’ve not yet seen: relaxed. With his father sitting casually in the chair opposite him, Carter has an easy smile on his face. His gaze flickers toward me, his smile widening so that his dimple is on display, and the gesture has my insides warming.

Please stop reacting to him in ways like this; not cool.

The calm settling over my nerves is unexpected in the best of ways. Surely he wouldn’t be so at ease if his assistant was being fired or if we’d been found out by his father, so I’m taking this as a good sign.

His father turns in his chair, standing when he sees me, giving me a friendly smile.?

“Ah, Miss Matthews, lovely to see you.” The pleasantnesshe directs at me helps to calm my irrational thoughts, if only a little.

“Mr Lawrence, hi,” I respond, beaming at him in return.

Carter’s father, Frederick, is easily one of the sweetest men I’ve ever encountered. If you could capture the essence of a ray of sunshine and mix it with that of a Golden Retriever, it would be Frederick Lawrence. He’s certainly not what I expected from a former CEO and lawyer.

Charisma isn’t the only thing these two have in common. I’m not one to gamble, but I’d put money on Carter being the spitting image of his father at his age.

“Oh, none of that Mr Lawrence nonsense dear, Freddie makes me feel younger.” He chuckles lightly as he gestures to the seat beside him. “Have a seat, Lara.”

Freddie asks me all about how my first week has been, how I’m settling in, and if his son has me wanting to pull my hair out yet. Strangely enough, the last question has Carter glowering at his father.?

“Pay no mind to his dramatics, Lara; he gets that from his mother.”

We continue like this—Freddie engaging me in an unexpected game of 20 Questions and listening animatedly to each response I give, and Carter sitting quietly, observing the interaction—until his father realises he’s yet to mention why he called us here.

“Right, I imagine you both have a lot on, so let’s get to the point.” Freddie rifles around in his trouser pockets. Phone in one hand and glasses in the other, he lets out a triumphant “aha” before continuing. “Son, Mason Devereux has requested to meet with you and a few other board members out in Norcaster. Lara, you’ll also need to be present for note-taking.”

Freddie pauses, no doubt awaiting some form of responsefrom his son. I use the moment to wrack my brain for where the heck I’ve heard the name Norcaster.?

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