Chapter 6

Keep it calm.That's what I've been telling myself all day, but it hasn't made the slightest bit of difference. I'm absolutely desperate to see Josh tonight, and no amount of online furniture shopping is going to keep that at bay. I'm not exactly desperate to tell him I'm going to be his new neighbour, out of nowhere, but I'll worry about that when the time comes.

And it's coming soon. Just a few hours to get ready.

The Mulberry restaurant is one of the classiest restaurants in the city, and I dress for the occasion. I pick out a floor length black beauty of a gown with a split up to my thigh, showing off the long legs I inherited from my mother. I curl my hair in waves, and darken my lips with plum lipstick, and my eyeliner is pure jet black to show off the pale blue of my eyes.

My foot taps in the footwell of the cab as the meter ticks along on the way. My heart is thumping faster and faster as the seconds count down, and it's insanity. How can I be so nervous about meeting Josh, after happily getting window fucked for a crowd of spectators last night? But I can't fight the truth. I'm way more nervous about my date tonight than I am about proposals.

It feels like there's so much more at stake somehow.

My heart.

The poor little heart that's still hurting under the happiness of my new world…

Fucking hell, I don't want to get hurt again.

Keep it calm, I repeat in my head. Keep it fucking calm.

But I can't.

The moment the cab pulls up at the entrance of the Mulberry, and I see Josh there, under the golden glow of the archway, I know I'm done for. He's the gorgeous guy I remember from the Christmas party, in a tailored dark purple suit that matches the purple streak in his hair, complemented with a thin black tie. My mind hasn't glorified him out of proportion while I've been away. Not at all. My memories are all real. He's simply gorgeous.

And the guy of my dreams is holding flowers. A massive bouquet of them.

I'm a jittery wreck as I get out of the cab and pay the driver.

Josh is over to me in seconds, presenting the bouquet to me like a divine prince. Roses and lilies. Deep red and pale white.

"Oh my God, they're beautiful. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, and very worth it."

His grin is so charming it lights up my world. His cheekbones seem sculpted from marble, and his green eyes are magnetic, and his lips are the perfection of symmetry. When his gaze locks on mine, it's one of those classic lingering stares that speaks more than words, both of us smiling, with so much unsaid.

Until I suck in a breath and break the spell. My words run riot – spilling straight out of me.

"I'm so nervous, honestly. I've been crapping myself about this. I must have checked my makeup a billion times before I left tonight." I pause for a second. "I mean on messenger it's easy, isn't it? You just type what you like and it's kinda out there in the ether." I gesture over to the side. "But here, for real, with you in front of me. Yeah. Um…" I laugh as I cover my mouth, then fan my hand as though I'm hot, and take a breath. And he watches me. Transfixed. His eyes still locked on mine. He grins as I carry on talking, and I feel myself relaxing. My words slowing down, just a little.

"Meeting you at Christmas was amazing," I say. "And not just because I'd seen your, um, dick pic profile, which is mega hot. But seeing you here again, it's different. Just me and you. And thanks for that, for the date. It's so nice to bring me here, to this place." I look up at the entrance, with a wow at the lights, and I'm flying high with him here in front of me. Josh. Weston. The man I've been fantasising over for weeks.

My heart is singing when he slips his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me close. His perfect lips land on mine and I'm done for. I'm surprised I don't drop the bouquet on the floor when I wrap my arms around his shoulders, kissing him back.

This isn't like our first kiss, under the mistletoe in the Christmas spirit, drunk on champagne, though. This is slower. Softer. Much more… meaningful. Fuck, what a stupid word for date one.

We're both grinning as we pull apart. I check my lipstick by pressing my lips to the back of my hand.

"Is it smudged?" I ask him.

He laughs as he shakes his head. "No, no, but do my lips match my suit now?"

"No. Not yet, anyway. Good first attempt, though."

"I'll have to do better next time," he says with a wink, and I take his hand with a fresh round of flutters as he leads me to the door.

Josh really has gone all out on this date. The Mulberry looks even more impressive on the inside than it does on the outside. The huge crystal chandeliers have me wide eyed. Not only that, but we're seated on the upper floor of the restaurant, on a table fit for royalty. The ambient glow of the lamps around us is divine, and the view of the indoor fountain down below is to die for.

"Would you like me to store these in water for you, madam?" the waiter offers, holding his hand out for my bouquet.

"Yes, please. That would be amazing, thank you."

"And what can I get you to drink?"

"A white wine, please. Whichever you recommend," I say. "Thank you."

"Same," Josh says. "And make that a bottle, please."

"Of course, sir."

I hold back on what I'm about to say next, realising it would be another damn amazing. I realise just how much I say the word amazing. Everything is amazing. Everything. I look over at Josh, sitting opposite me, amazing. I look at the people around us, all suited and dressed to the max, amazing. The room is amazing. The ambience is amazing. Even the fucking napkin on my lap is amazing.

We check out the menu while the waiter gets our wine, and I scan through the options in a daze. Some of the dishes I don't even understand the names of, but they all look, um, amazing, so I pick my courses at random. Salmon with an exotic sounding salad, and pork belly with posh potatoes and sauces. Mission accomplished.And then, when the waiter returns with our wine and is done with our orders, I look down at the table, and register the multiple sets of cutlery. A lot of them. The look on my face must say it all.

"Work from the outside in," Josh says, smiling. "Don't worry, I had no idea until I started visiting these kinds of places."

I look back down at the cutlery. Yeah, cool, that works. I can handle it.

"Do you visit these kinds of places a lot now?" I ask.

"A bit." He pauses. "Not so much lately. Sometimes Tiff will come along for a night out. That's always fun."

"I'll bet."

My eyes flit around the room again, at all the people, clearly loaded. It gives me a weird tingle.

"Have you ever run into any clients? They must come to these kinds of places."

"Twice, actually. It's happened to me twice."

"Whoa." I try to imagine myself here with the exhibitionist from last night. He'd probably be wanting me screaming what a whore I am from the top of the balcony. "Was it awkward?"

He laughs. "You could say that, yeah. A little. It's weird to give a couple a polite wave in a restaurant when you were fucking them senseless in their living room a few nights earlier."

"So, they were a couple? These clients?"

"That pair were, yes. Husband and wife. Happily married. The other was a single guy, out with his family. Parents from the look of it. He gave me a look of pure horror when I walked on by."

"Shit. What did you do?"

"Ignored him. We laughed about it when he booked me next."

I try to imagine some of my clients sitting in view of me. I'd probably baulk and run.

"How about Tiff?" I ask.

"She's had it happen more than me. One night there was a sales team party in the same restaurant as us, celebrating some big deal or something. She'd fucked all of them, all at once. Every single one of them."

I picture my own experience of taking a crowd like that. The thought of running into them in a random location is intense.

"Oh my God," I say.

Josh nods. "Yeah. It wasn't quite so awkward for her, though. She doesn't give a shit. They put in an emergency last minute proposal before we even got our starters, and she accepted and blew them a kiss. I was in a cab on my own on the way back home."

I laugh at that. I can imagine Tiff doing it.

Josh's eyes lock onto mine. "What would you do? If one of your clients walked in right now and put in an emergency proposal, would you go?"

I don't break eye contact. "While I was out with you? Not a chance in hell."

He raises his eyebrows. "Not any of them? Really? What about a thirty grander? That's a hard one to turn down."

I shake my head. "Um, no. No way. How could I? I'd rather be here with you, whatever price they put on it."

Oh shit. Too much, too soon. I feel like I've just dive bombed into a swimming pool naked in front of him. How embarrassing. But he doesn't flinch, or look awkward, just keeps his eyes right on mine with a smirk.

"That's nice to know."

"That you're worth more than a thirty grander?" I laugh, then figure I'll dive bomb in some more. "You're worth way more than that any day of the week."

"That's also nice to know," he says.

I relax a bit. "You only have to look at your reviews to know that."

His eyes lock back on mine. "I'm not interested in what my reviews have to say about it, Ella. I'm interested in you."

Fuck. His voice.

My heart races, and I get flutters. His deep green eyes are addictive. His brows fit his face like he's a sculpted masterpiece. If he wasn't an entertainer, he could be a model. Definitely.

"How about you?" I ask. "What if it was a fifty grander. Vanilla. One hour."

That sets him off with a real laugh. "Vanilla?! No way. Even if I was going to take a fifty grander, it definitely wouldn't be for vanilla. I'd be bored shitless." He leans forward. "Anyway, it's a ditto from me. It wouldn't happen. I'd rather be here with you."

I can feel myself blushing through my foundation.

I use his words. "That's nice to know."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"Which bit? The fifty grand turndown or the not liking vanilla?"

"Both."

I take a long gulp of my wine, and I'm grateful for it, gushing out another that's amazing, before I can stop myself.

"I've got to stop saying that," I tell Josh. "Amazing, amazing, amazing."

"Please don't," he says, "I love the way you say it."

"Like an awkward teenager?"

"No. Like you. I love the way you're you. It's cute."

"Cute. That's one word for it." My cheeks are still burning, and my stomach lurches, because I don't just want to be cute to him. I want to be hot. Irresistible. Horny. Dirty. "I don't say amazing on repeat with clients like that, you know. I'm just a bit nervous, being with you. I've been thinking about it a lot."

"You're more nervous with me than with clients?"

It sounds ridiculous, but it's true. I take a breath.

"Yeah, I am. Because clients are clients, and it doesn't mean anything. It's just filth and then home, with a healthy looking bank account. This is…" My voice trails off. I'm scared of dive bombing again, but I don't need to. His grin is… amazing.

"I'm glad you were the one to say it, because seriously, I've been shitting myself. I'm right with you. Clients, piece of piss, I'll do whatever they want and not even break a sweat anymore, but this." He's looking right at me. "It's different."

Different. Yeah, it is.

He raises his glass of wine for a clink, and then I take another sip of mine, careful not to glug too much in case I start blurting out more amazing romantic crap ahead of schedule.

It's so tempting to ask him about clients, but I don't want to talk about that side of his life. Not yet. It would be so easy and fascinating to dig into Weston and hear about all the true hardcore filth he gets up to, right here in the flesh, without the distance of messenger – whispering quietly so the tables around don't hear us. But tonight isn't about work, or being a hardcorer, or working in the same job role. I don't want to know Weston, I want to know Josh.

"Your parents in Australia. How was it visiting them?" he asks.

"It was out of this world. I cried at the airport when I arrived, and cried again on the way back. I hadn't seen them in years, and video call is cool, but seeing them in person was…" I laugh again. "Different."

He laughs back. "You're an only child, right?"

I realise then how our messaging has become more of a running commentary than anything really deep. We both pulled back a bit after the initial soul bearing messages we started up when I first went away. Like we've been trying to keep things at surface level, playing it safe. I know plenty about him, yeah, but not enough yet. I don't know him.

"Yeah, I'm an only child. My parents had me really late. I was a surprise. A welcome one, apparently. They'd kind of given up."

"Do you wish you had any brothers and sisters?"

I shrug. "I dunno really. Sometimes I think it would be cool to have that kind of close bond people can have with siblings. Friends but family at the same time. You must have that? You're one of five, aren't you?"

He takes a swig of wine and raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, one of five. I'm the fourth in the chain, and was the baby until my youngest sister came along when I was nearly seven. I thought I'd milked the toddler tantrums to the max. Everything from not liking broccoli and screaming about it, to knocking paints all over the dining room table. But then my final sibling arrived. She outdid me. She outdid all of us."

"Are you close to them?"

"Some more than others. Emma is married, and she's great, but her time is mainly taken up by Polly-Anne now. Her daughter. I'm closest to Sasha, who works in finance over in Canary Wharf. She lives with her girlfriend, Georgia, and they both have a wicked sense of humour. Then there's Scott, who's quite the online gamer, and we don't have all that much in common. He keeps telling me to watch him on live feed and join in, but it bores me shitless."

I try to keep track of the names. Emma, Sasha, Scott, Josh. Emma, Sasha, Scott, Josh.

"Then the youngest came along," he says, and leans back in his seat. "Caroline. She's great, but she's barely twenty, and she can be such a pain in the ass. She hasn't grown out of the look at me stage from when she was about five. Look at me, look at me, look at me." He does an impression with a sassy wave of his hand, and I burst out laughing.

"She sounds quite something."

"She is quite something." He pauses. "No, honestly, she is cool. She's just a bit of an attention seeker. Wants to be queen of the universe with a million adoring fans. Or on the arm of the king of the universe. Some rock star, or pop icon, or movie star. Right now it's rock star. She's been in a goth phase for a few years now, trying to outdo Tiff on the attention scale. It would be quite a hard climb for her to get there, but she's trying her best."

"A goth phase?" I grin. "Well, I'm still in one, so maybe we'd get on."

"Hopefully you'll never grow out of yours. It suits you too much."

I get a round of butterflies.

"Yeah, well I hope you never get sick of your hot, purple streaked hair brilliance, either."

"Don't worry about that. The purple streak is staying, and so are the piercings. The clients love them too much for starters."

And so will I.

Talking of starters, the time has been flying by. They arrive with a flourish.

We talk right through the meal, and it's like starting from the beginning of a fairy tale. We talk about being kids, and what toys we used to like, through the challenges of family – where Josh has me laughing in hysterics at some of his antics with his siblings. We talk about school, and when I became goth, and what music I like, and what he likes. I tell him how I signed the rental agreement on my new apartment, and how incredible and modern and open plan it is, and gush about how I've been browsing online for furniture all day today, since I will barely have a single thing to put in it next week if I don't get my butt into gear.

"The apartment sounds great," he says. "So, where is it? North London?"

Oh no. Here it comes… the stalker moment.

"Belgravia," I tell him, my heart pounding in my chest, but Josh doesn't so much as raise an eyebrow, just smiles.

"One of the towers?"

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"West wing," I say, and he nods. "Great choice. Nice and handy, too. Just across the courtyard."

Phew. What a relief.

And what a fucking pleasure. Stalker crisis averted.

We talk about so much. Laugh about so much. Grin about so much. But through all of it, not once throughout the conversation do we talk about the two big elephants in the room.

Work and exes.

I know he's had his heart broken, just like I have. I know her name was Magpie and she was an entertainer, like me, and I know she went off with a client. But I don't ask him about her. I don't dive bomb enough to ask the obvious question. I've been skirting it on messenger for weeks.

Are you over her?

I hope so. I trust so. I pray so.

I wonder if he's thinking the same about me…

We've finished with dessert before I know it. The restaurant's chocolate mousse was the very definition of yum on a plate. And there we sit, Josh and I, sipping the rest of our wine with the obvious situation looming ahead. Will it be separate cabs goodnight, or will it be more?

He gets the bill before I even mention the prospect of going halves, and we still sit there, even after the waiter has brought my bouquet back to the table.

Our eyes lock again, tension almost palpable, and I wait. I just wait. I'm not going to dive bomb again.

But I don't need to. It's Josh who makes the move.

"How about you come and take another look around Belgravia?" he asks. "I can show you my apartment. You can check out the view. You'll probably be able to see your new place through my window."

"Sounds great to me," I say, "I'd love to see your place. I can imagine the future while looking out through your window."

"I hope I'm included in the window imagining," he says with a smirk, and when he pushes to his feet I know, yet again, that I'm done for. The bulge in his pants shows, nice and big across the table, and I imagine the barbells lying in there. A whole steel ladder of piercings up his cock. I wonder what the hell it would feel like inside me. What it will feel like inside me. That much is becoming obvious…

Jeez, it seems like the butterflies have shifted lower. My thighs clench as I rise to my feet to join him.

"You coming, then?" He holds out a hand and I take it.

"Sure am."

There's no doubt about the fact that I will be coming. I could come at the very sight of him.