30. Natalie

30

NATALIE

H e crosses one ankle over its opposite knee and sits back in his chair, grinning at me like he’ll enjoy this. I watch him with a mix of interest and preemptive second-hand embarrassment, because I’m already dreading what he’s going to say and already turned on by him metaphorically getting his dick out.

The spiel starts as soon as he’s connected with Gui.

‘ Bonjour , Gui. This is Adam calling from Gossamer in London—I’m Natalie’s new Finance Director. How’s the weather in Lyon today?’

I raise my eyebrows at that gigantic detour from the truth, but he presses on.

‘Yeah, pretty miserable here, too. And thank you— I’m excited.’

A pause, during which he presses his mouth into a grim line.

‘She’s wonderful, I agree. So talented. And it’s a fantastic brand. Lots to get my teeth into. I’m calling around our most valued suppliers to introduce myself, but also to share an update from our end. Do you have five minutes? ’

There’s a brief silence before he nods and continues.

‘So I don’t know if you’re aware, but we’ve had some big wins on the wholesale front recently—Net à Porter’s picked us up which we’re thrilled about.’

I frown. I certainly didn’t tell him that, which means he’s been checking us out.

‘Yeah, it’s a big win, and they’re very committed to building out Gossamer’s offering. We may even be doing some exclusive stuff for them.’

This guy is a major, major bullshitter.

‘But obviously,’ he continues, shifting in his chair, ‘it means we have to completely reevaluate our entire supply model as well as our cash flow. I understand from Natalie that we’re still operating under the same terms with you guys that we put in place when we started, but we’d like to think our relationship with Tissus de Pascal has really solidified since then.

‘We’re very committed to moving forward with you as a trusted partner, but as our model evolves, we’re looking for partners who can evolve with us.’ A pause. ‘Thank you for saying that—it means a lot. Anyway, we’re looking for terms more akin to net ninety, going forward. That should give us the leeway we need to accommodate our wholesale clients at the other end.’

My jaw drops as Adam waits, his tense expression at odds with the jovial tone he’s adopted for the call. I can hear Gui’s voice faintly, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. There’s no way on earth Tissus de Pascal will grant us ninety days’ credit. Absolutely zero.

He holds eye contact with me and licks his lips as Gui speaks. Then his entire face breaks into a smile, and it’s a beautiful moment. I gape like a groupie.

‘I understand. No, completely. That makes total sense. I’ll have to check with Natalie, but I’m confident we can make net sixty work.’

He’s bought us two months of credit with them? Holy crap! That’s beyond incredible. I beam at him, and he holds his finger up.

‘Thanks, mate,’ he continues. ‘I appreciate your support—it feels good to be on the same page. I’m assuming we can put that in motion for the shipment I understand is forthcoming this week, yes?’

I hold my breath until he nods, his grin not wavering. ‘Okay, great. So if you can send Natalie an amended invoice that’ll be great, and we’ll get the courier booked in once you’ve confirmed the shipment weight. Yep. So happy to have connected with you, Gui. You have a great day. Thanks— au revoir .’

‘Oh my God,’ I say in a rush as soon as he’s ended the call and thrown his phone onto my desk. ‘Thank you, thank you. Sixty days?! That’s insane!’

My brain is racing. The big fat axe that’s been hanging over me all week hasn’t gone, but it’s sure as hell lifted from the back of my neck.

‘Now you need to do that with every single supplier,’ he says, waggling a finger at me.

‘I will,’ I tell him. ‘I can’t believe they rolled over so easily.’

‘I had the distinct impression he’s a fan of yours,’ he says sternly. ‘But it’s also a function of you and how you’ve carried your relationship up until now. He can’t see your P it begs and it plunders, and all of it, his lips and tongue and breath and teeth and fingers, weaving magic and spinning my body and my soul until I’m a whirlwind of sensation and emotion and I don’t know which way is up.

I know his arms are full of me, though, and his kiss is intentional , and I know it would be a crying shame if I didn’t overdose on him while I have this random window in my dingy studio in the middle of the day.

So I do.

I drag my hands up his merino-clad arms and over his broad shoulders, and I entangle my fingers in his hair, and I slide my lips, my tongue, against his as I marvel at feeling him harden against my stomach in real time. I saw a lot more last night, of course, had a front-row seat to how angry, how hungry that monster dick could be, but this is different, somehow.

If last night felt like a battle where each of us wielded our need to undo the other like a weapon, then this is the most heated sort of truce, our dancing tongues the white flags, our roaming fingers the olive branches, our mutual surrender more evident with every ragged breath.

How long the kiss lasts I can’t say. It’s eternal and all too brief, the moment where Adam pulls carefully away from my mouth and settles his lips instead into my hair the most crushing dissolution. I collapse my face against his shirt, his sweater, my breath coming hard, my hands tracing the splendid planes of his back.

There are a thousand things I could say, thoughts I could voice, and they all seem as redundant as each other in the face of that .

‘Are you working this evening?’ he murmurs into my hair, his arms more a cocoon than a cage around me.

I mumble my assent.

‘If I swing by when you’re done,’ he asks haltingly, ‘would you come home with me tonight?’ He releases me and takes a step back so he can pin me with that clear, pale blue gaze. ‘I can’t—I want to move forward with you, but I’m conscious that there’s a lot to say first. There are some things I’d like to show you.’