Page 32 of Pretty Mess

I nod. “Here’s his card.” He takes it from me, still staring at me. “He says he doesn’t like to conduct his business at the club, so maybe you’re wrong about him never seeing someone twice.”

He looks at the card and taps it against his hand. “I’m not wrong.”

I roll my eyes. “You’d never admit it, even if you were.”

A smile hovers on his lips. “If he were seeing someone regularly, it would have been the subject of huge gossip all around the club.” He shakes his head. “Trust me. He’s a big deal.”

“Why?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but we’re interrupted by the doorbell. He gets up and pads out of the bedroom with me at his heels, determined to hear what he was going to say.

He opens the door, and I see the concierge from downstairs. “Hi, Alan,” Julian says in a warm and friendly voice.

“Good morning,” the older man says cheerfully. “I have a package for a Mr Wes Archer.”

“That’s me.”

“That’s him.”

The old man blinks at our combined voices. “I brought it up because I wasn’t sure if it had been wrongly delivered.”

Julian takes it from him. “No, it’s right. This is Wes, my f-friend.” I suppress a smile at the stumble. “He’ll be staying here for a while, Alan,” he says casually.

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Oh, Wes, please,” I say awkwardly. “Nice to meet you too.”

The man nods and walks away as Julian shuts the door.

“Aww, you’re my friend and you just told the whole world about us.”

“I told the man who delivers the mail. Please don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I can’t help it.” I wink at him. “You practically shouted it from the rooftops. Should we do something to seal our friendship?”

“Shall I kill you? It would work for me.” He hands me the box. “What is it?”

“How on earth would I know?”

I look down at the small box and shake it experimentally. Something rattles inside it. I look up at Julian, and he smirks. “Open it, then. Unless you’ve been gifted with X-ray eyes.”

“But no one knows I’m here, so how has that got here?” I settle on a stool at the granite breakfast bar and tear at the tape. A white box slides out and I gape. “It’s a phone.”

Julian is leaning over the counter, looking as interested and engaged as a small child. It’s very endearing. “That’s the latest iPhone.”

“I know. These cost a fortune.”

“There’s another box in there.”

I reach in and pull out a green leather phone case and a charger. I look up at Julian. “Does the club provide these for us?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, Fox seems to think that we make enough money through him that we can afford our own. Is there a note?”

Of course. I slide my finger in and come out with a single sheet of paper. It feels expensive and has a posh watermark on it. Written in dark, bold handwriting are three words.

Open the phone.

Julian leans in even closer and grins at me. “This is so exciting. Like being spies.” He looks me up and down. “I’d have been a wonderful spy. You, not so much. Open the box, then.”