Page 65 of Wildflower
Okay.
Leaning into it.
At least I’ll get to eat, and I don’t have to do it alone. Although if you’d asked me ten minutes ago if I’d rather be alone or with my intimidating CEO that I piss off every time I open my mouth, I’d happily go into isolation immediately. Yet here I am, trailing behind him, feeling special and chosen. And a bit confused.
I wait for him by his car, staring up at the blue sky and feeling the summer breeze caress my face. It’s a brief, welcome distraction from this bizarre turn of events.
Summers in London are the best.
“Ready, show me what this area is all about,” he says from behind me. I turn and gasp so hard I almost swallow my tongue. He’s opened a second button on the top of shirt and rolled up his sleeves, showing off suntanned forearms Icould lick all day. He rakes a hand through his hair, and my ovaries hum so loudly I’m surprised he doesn’t hear it. I hate that he’s so attractive.
“Are you okay?” he asks, chuckling. He’schuckling. It makes my adrenaline rush, but in an excited way as opposed to the normal fear-induced rush he gives me in the office.
He must know the effect he has on people, but I refuse to ogle him like everyone else. Anymore, that is. It stops now. It feels wrong when I was just about to meet Robin. Is it wrong? Yes, it feels wrong. Like cheating.
“I’m starving,” I say. “There’s a fantastic duck burger I’d recommend, if you’d want to try it?” I have no idea how to behave around this man. Does he even eat burgers?
“Sounds perfect.”
I guide him through the market, and when I look back to check he’s still there, I’m certain that’s a smile playing on his lips. Maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt. He’s just a human after all (despite the godlike appearance).
“It’s easy to get lost in the noise here,” I say over my shoulder, “but I urge you to notice the little details.” I gesture to the stalls we walk past. “People often rush through and forget to enjoy it all.”
He stops and lifts his head, closing his eyes.
“What’s your favourite part?” he asks. “The sounds or the smells?”
I’m surprised he has time to stand here and do this. I thought billionaires were on a tightly managed schedule.
“Both?” I say and take in what’s going on around us. The sweet cinnamon scent of fresh churros, the sizzling and scraping of a stir-fry in the making, the laughter of a group of people, the husky voice of an old busker, and the comforting strum of an acoustic guitar. “It’s magical.”
“Something smells delicious,” he says. “I’m hungry.”
“The burger is up here. It’s far from health food, though. Is that okay? I promise it’s worth it.”
“I’ll make up for it in the gym tomorrow,” he says, rubbing his stomach, which looks as hard as a slab of concrete. The move reveals a sliver of skin and a hint of the happy trail into his chinos, and I have to tear my eyes away.
He kindly pretends not to see my struggle. Or maybe he doesn’t pretend. Maybe he’s so used to people gawking at him, another one doesn’t make a difference.
“So this is what you do on Saturdays?” he asks as we wait for our duck burgers.
“When I can,” I say, leaving out that I often work weekends. He doesn’t need to know I have another job. It’ll solidify his belief that I’m not serious about the Infinio role. “I love to find great food and beautiful scenery, and I take my brother’s dog for walks in different parks,” I continue. “So you’ve not been here before?”
“No, never been to this part of London, actually.”
“To Hackney?”
“East London.”
“All of East London?”
“Never had a reason to.”
I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I’ve not been to all of London either, but this area is so full of life. It must be far from his regular cup of tea, though, with the lack of columned entrances but an abundance of graffiti.
The guy in the navy apron waves to get my attention and passes me my burger in a greasy white and yellow wrap.
“Why are you investing here, then?” I ask, looking up at Mark. That little smile is still there.
