Page 135 of Nothing More

They left the sewing room with designs on visiting the marketing team next, but a staffer flagged them down. “Miss Blake? There’s a man here to see you.” She made a polite face of unhappiness. “I told him to please take a seat in the lounge while I found you, but he showed himself into your office.”

A fluttery feeling of hope in her chest. Toly? Had he snuck out? Risked leaving to come and see her?

But, no. All the staff knew him as Tom, her assistant.

It was only grudging duty, then, that made her say, “Did he give his name?”

“A Mr. Greg Ingles.”

Ugh.

She smiled. “Thank you, Jamie. I’ll go and see to him.”

Because Greg was the sort of rich boy who, despite his good manners and upbringing, had never been denied anything in his life, he’d made himself at home. He turned away from the coffee cart as she entered, smiling broadly at her, while maintaining his conversation with Shep, who still looked like a stray dog someone had stuffed into a suit.

“…so then I told him,” Shep said, “that if he thought I was gonna stand around like some dipshit…”

Raven nearly turned and walked back out of the room.

She settled for slamming the door, instead, which caused Shep to whip his head around, and Greg’s smile to falter.

“Hello,” he greeted, hopeful.

“Hello.” She found a civil tone, somewhere, and then gave herself a swift kick. It wasn’t Greg’s fault that she was in this whole mess, and it certainly wasn’t his fault that she’d stupidly expected to find her – herboyfriend? A strange word for Toly, but she didn’t know what else to call him.Partnersounded better, but they didn’t exactly have a partnership now, did they?

“Hello,” she said again, and pushed a note of welcome into her voice. She even managed a smile. “I haven’t missed an appointment, have I?” She moved to her sofa, and he came to join her, coffee in hand. Rather than take one of the chairs across the table, as he had before, he settled in on the sofa beside her, closer than she would have liked. He smelled of crisp, expensive cologne, and clean linen, and some sort of aftershave.

She longed for the scent of cigarettes, and leather, and cold night air.

“No,” he said, smile back to full wattage. “I thought I’d come see if you’ve had lunch yet.”

“No, it’s only…” She checked her watch, and then murmured, “Damn.” It was nearly three. “I suppose the day’s gotten away from me.” She wasn’t as lightheaded as usual, thanks to Toly’s rib-sticking breakfast, and so she hadn’t had the hunger pains and wooziness to tell her the time.

Hetsked. “Everyone needs lunch: even high-power modeling and fashion execs.”

She sent him a wry look. “I’m not susceptible to flattery, you know.”

He shrugged, undeterred. “A guy’s gotta try, huh? Oh, and I talked to Donovan. He’s super onboard with everything you sent over. In fact” – his voice went conspiratorial and pleased – “he says that he’s already talked to Lydia Douville about you providing auction items, and she’s adamant that she win a styling from you. She’s determined to be the highest bidder, so you can go ahead and be thinking of her and her boyfriend for your designs.”

Raven was impressed despite herself, brows lifting. “Donovan knows Lydia Douville? The actress?”

“He knows everyone.”

“Well, then.” Lydia was a statuesque redhead in the vein of Old Hollywood glamor, all heaving bosom and tiny waist. Designers fought like feral cats behind the scenes to have the honor of dressing her for events.

Greg shifted, so he was angled toward her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his body. “How about lunch?” His fair eyes sparkled with eagerness.

Raven might need Greg: he could provide necessary society contacts, as well as a link to Donovan Smith, who might be Abacus. And she didn’tdislikethe man…but she simply wasn’t up to the task of stringing him along.

“Lunch sounds lovely, but, Greg, I feel I must be honest with you.”

His face froze, and then fell. Comically. “Oh. That’s not what you want to hear.”

She smiled sympathetically. “You’re a very nice man–”

“Ouch.” He pressed a hand to his heart with a grimace, and leaned back from her, cheeks coloring. He was embarrassed, doubtless; anyone would be.

“I know, I know, it’s trite,” she pressed on. “And if circumstances were different, then I think…well, no, it’s best not to give false hope. You’re a very nice man, Greg, and I would like to have lunch, but though it’s true I’m not dating my new client, Yuri, Iamseeing someone else.” Or whatever you wanted to call it.