Page 61 of Love to Loathe Him

I toss my vibrator aside with a sigh, flopping back onto the bed. I’m dripping with sweat from head to toe. But I needed to purge this pent-up sexual tension that’s been buzzing under my skin all night.

I must stay focused on the prize. I’ve worked out that six months at my new salary will give me enough of a nest egg to take a breather and try to go it alone. Then I can jump ship and indulge in all the depraved fantasies I want about McLaren.

But even after that earth-shattering orgasm, I still can’t seem to drift off. And I have to drag my ass out of bed at an ungodly hour tomorrow morning for those interviews, with the man himself no less.

Just as I’m contemplating the merits of a second wank session to help me drift off, my phone lights up with a message. Who the hell is texting me at one a.m.?

I squint at the screen, my heart doing a jump. It’s not the first time Liam has messaged me in the middle of the night, but usually it’s about work, not . . . whatever this is.

Liam:Usually women are opening their doors and not slamming them in my face.

Oh, fuck. I read the message again, heat pooling low in my core. Is he flirting with me? Or is he just pissed that I shut the door in his face?

I agonize over my response for what feels like an eternity.

Me:There’s a first time for everything. Consider it a character-building exercise.

I hit send before I can chicken out.

His reply comes almost instantly.

Liam:Your brutal honesty hits me again. I’m wounded. Perhaps I wanted that cup of tea.

I sit bolt upright in bed, my eyes wide, my pulse thundering in my ears. Holy shit. Is “tea” some kind of euphemism?

Maybe he was just angling for an invite inside to chat up Lizzie. Shewasstanding right there in the doorway wearing that lace nightie.

I need to shut this down. Be professional.

Me:I’ll have a cup of tea delivered to your office tomorrow. Earl Grey, no sugar, splash of milk. Just the way you like it.

I’ve seen his overworked PA make it for him enough times to know his preferences.

Liam:You know how I take my tea. Impressive.

Me:It’s my job to know things. That’s why they pay me the big bucks. Good night, Liam.

Liam:Good night, Gemma. Sweet dreams.

And then a wink.

I stare at the screen, my eyes fixed on the emoji.I know I’m going to be starring in your dreams tonight, Gemmais what that wink is saying.

And damn him for being right.

I stride into the office at seven forty-five. Truth is I feel a little hungover after my drinks last night. And I didn’t sleep much either, with thoughts churning in my head.

But I don’t have time to wallow in my own misery, because Liam and I have a packed schedule of interviews, starting in thirty minutes.

I glance over at Liam’s office, expecting to see him already at his desk. It’s empty. He better not have forgotten. He never forgets anything, but he could just as easily dismiss me at the last minute and send someone in his place.

Grumbling under my breath, I pull out my phone and dial his number. Straight to voicemail. To make matters worse, I spotted our first interviewee already waiting in the reception area.

I approach his lovely, long-suffering PA. “Hey, Rosie. Is Liam in yet?”

“He is,” she confirms with an apologetic look. “But he went down to his private gym for a workout.”

I’m sorry, what the actual hell? My jaw clenches. “He has interviews.”