Page 17 of Love Spell (Witches of London #3)

The trouble was that Timo had allowed himself to get all worked up over something that wasn’t real.

Not that how he felt for Noah wasn’t real.

That was as real as a nuclear bomb — and nearly as inconvenient.

No, it was the whole magic spell rubbish.

He had grasped at straws, risen to being taunted by some arsehole.

Obviously there was no spell on him because such things did not exist.

Equally obvious, he’d been played: Julian had kept asking what Timo thought was wrong, relying on questions to get Timo to explain himself, not unlike a fortune-teller using apparently innocent questions and simple observational skills to say whatever the victim wanted to hear. Just basic cold reading.

What Timo had momentarily forgotten was that he, and only he, was in control over his own emotions, life, and destiny.

And yes, how he felt, by his own free will and free desires, was utterly consumed and enthralled, which was a perfectly normal thing to happen to anyone.

Nothing wrong with that. A robust, healthy way to feel, in fact.

All he had to do to put this right was embrace it, make it his own: take charge.

If there was a spell on him, which there wasn’t because that was impossible, but if there was a spell, and if someone like Julian had put it on him, it all came to the same thing.

He had to prove he was the better man, the one in control, the one who could spin shit into gold.

Two could play the proverbial game; and if Timo was going to play, he was going to win.

What did winning look like when someone, no, something , inexplicable had overrun his mind by making him fall for someone who was avoiding him?

Timo swivelled his office chair back and forth, back and forth at his desk.

His positions were closed and he should be taking the time to check in with others.

He’d been in his office all day, sitting or pacing.

Instead of trades, he had Julian’s webpage up on his master screen.

Lunch had come and gone. He never felt hungry these days.

A protein shake, dinner out of habit, but how could he eat when he was suffering a bereavement by the love of his life shunning him?

He was losing weight, which meant losing muscle, and that had to stop. Just another example of how what was happening to him had shunted him to the back of the field and he had to shift strategies if he ever hoped to win this.

He let the chair come to a stop, imagining first kisses with Noah. At home? A club? Here in the office? While walking through a museum together? In Paris?

None of that. That was how he became distracted and failed to find his way to the front of the field. What was he missing?

Timo drummed his fingers on the desk, pulled apart the magnetic beads there and popped them back together with satisfying clicks, morphing the lump into several positions while he imagined several positions with Noah, then again shook himself out of the reverie.

“Timo?” Spencer in the doorway.

“Not now,” Timo said absently, never glancing around.

Spencer vanished.

Timo popped the beads, spun the chair around, wondered if there was anything Noah liked to do for fun that was actually worthwhile.

He was a good biker but out of shape for it.

You had to be in practice to tackle real hills.

Although he’d managed well for someone who’d not been on a mountain bike in years once the likes of Arthur hadn’t been slamming on the brakes in front of him.

Perhaps Timo could talk Noah into local rides together? Just the two of them, start to get Noah back into it? Surrey Hills? Less than an hour from London with mixed but easy trails compared to Snowdonia. Saturday?

Noah would never go for it.

He might if Timo kept being chill at home and Noah also relaxed. Timo should get him a bike.

But it wasn’t all about gifts, was it? Noah hadn’t even wanted the hotel room. Run away to get the dog to chase you.

He was distracted again. What about winning? How could he beat this?

Timo’s fingers stilled on the magnets. He rested them on his desk. His feet stilled on the floor and he faced his master screen.

How did you beat someone at their own game?

Step one: know the game. Step two: know the rules. Step three: play the game better than anyone else at the table.

Timo rested his fingers on the keyboard. He paused.

He opened a new browser window. Another pause.

Carefully, he typed in, How to make someone fall in love.

* * *

“Timo?” Noah tapped at the office door before opening it. Timo wasn’t there, screens still lit up. Probably a nosebleed.

“He’s gone,” Spencer said and Noah turned.

“Is he?” Noah frowned again at the office. “In a bit of a hurry looks like. Where to?”

“Socialising with his stable of insiders, I assume. But I didn’t have meetings on the schedule for him this evening.” Spencer shrugged. “Need anything?”

“It’s okay. I can ask Ranveer. Thanks.”

Spencer went on down the hall and Noah slipped into the office to see the displayed website that was clearly unrelated to work, wondering if this was what had called Timo away.

But no, it was, of all things, a site for a local astrologer.

Bewildered, Noah couldn’t help reading through the page for a minute, leaning past Timo’s luxurious desk chair.

Timo had no interest in astrology. Could it be that he was looking for other ways to treat Noah? Gifting him a reading? That wasn’t Timo’s style. But his behaviour all week hadn’t been Timo’s style, ever since Noah had come to stay at his place he’d been weird.

Or, rather, normal Timo was weird and suddenly he’d not been weird. It actually seemed that he was the one avoiding Noah lately, and when their paths crossed Timo was skin-crawlingly pleasant. It was creeping Noah out more than the obnoxious Timo had.

He couldn’t know that Noah’s birthday was coming up, could he? Some of his memories from the Welsh spa were a bit hazy, but he did remember telling Timo he was into astrology and Timo showing not the slightest interest.

He should leave it alone. Still, as As long as the page was here, inviting him, why not get in touch and see if he could set up a meeting on his own?

He’d had such a thing on his mind since meeting the Capricorn massage therapist in Wales.

If Timo surprised him with a gift reading, all the better; Noah wouldn’t have to pay.

Noah dialled the number and turned away to the window. Like his penthouse, Timo’s office had a million-pound view. Noah gazed across the City of London while he listened to the rings, then left a voicemail, asking about getting in for a chart within the next week or two.

Leaving the office as he found it, Noah shut the door, returned to his own desk, and had just remembered he had a question for Ranveer when his phone, still in his hand, buzzed and he answered without thinking.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Julian. I thought that was a junk call from a US number.”

“Oh, thanks for calling back. I’m only staying over here for a while.”

“You’re in London?”

“Yes, wondering if you have any openings to do a chart sometime soon?”

“How about now?”

“Uh…”

“I had a cancellation at five. If you can tell me or text me your birth details, exact time and place, I can see you then, otherwise it’ll probably be a couple weeks.”

“I have a photo of my birth certificate on my phone thanks to student visa paperwork. But I’m at work. Not sure if I can get to you that fast. Where are you?”

Noah took notes on scratch paper, said he’d text the image right over, then that he’d also text right back once he figured out if he could get there, and scrambled to do both as soon as he hung up. Could he just leave?

He’d lost money trading today and he didn’t usually do that, which was why he’d been going to Timo before Timo saw and pointed it out to him.

Timo loved pointing out to people when they were losing his money on bad trades.

Noah had thought he could turn it around, maybe with some advice from Ranveer, not let the day close with him in the red, even if it was a minor amount, and even if his record was usually sound.

Noah wasn’t a massive earner like Chandler, who would take any risks and had the luck of a leprechaun, but a solid, steady earner who was quickly learning his way.

Ending the day in the red was not okay. Then again, his positions were closed, Timo himself had left early, and he would do better to wait for advice and tackle this on a new day.

Considering how weird his life was lately, he really wanted this reading, craving all the help he could get. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? Timo would fire him? As if.

Noah wrote back that he’d be there by five pm.