I lean on my hand as I watch the red skirt twirl, the way her hips move, the long legs, the sexuality of the whole package . . . I’ve replayed this security footage more than I care to admit, maybe on the hour. I can’t stop watching it, again and again.

It’s a guilty pleasure, the ultimate kink in porn.

Although I would like to, I can’t deny it, Kathryn Landon turns me on.

A knock sounds at my door and I quickly minimize the screen. “Yes,” I call.

Christopher puts his head around the door. “I’m going downstairs, want to come for a walk?”

“Where to?”

“IT.”

My eyebrows rise. “IT?”

“Yeah, I have to check a few details with Kathryn on that report.”

I’m standing before I have time to answer.

“You’re coming?” he asks in surprise.

“Yeah, why not? I need to stretch my legs.”

We take the elevator and two minutes later we arrive on level ten, the IT floor. There are workstations throughout and at the back are six offices with glass walls as partitions, slimline black venetian blinds offering privacy to each office.

I follow Christopher down the corridor as people dive for their desks and pretend to work. I never come to this floor. Never needed to; not exactly sure why I’m here now.

Christopher stops to talk to someone and I continue on, get to the first glass door and read the sign:

Kathryn Landon

Hmm, even reading her name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “Knock, knock.”

“Come in.”

I open the door. “Hello.”

Kathryn looks up from her computer as if surprised. “Hello Mr. Miles, and to what do I owe this honor?”

I press my lips together so I don’t say something snarky; this woman brings out the smart-ass in me tenfold. “Just doing a tour, thought I’d pop in.”

She fakes a smile. “How lovely, the king has come to visit his faithful servants.”

I glare at her as I clench my jaw.

How can someone who when she dances is so happy and joyful, not to mention insanely hot . . . be filled with pure venom?

I walk in and close the door behind me, take a seat at her desk and link my hands in front of me.

She stares at me as she waits for me to speak . . . I don’t, we remain silent.

“Well?” She smiles.

I narrow my eyes as I stare at her; what is it with this fucking woman?

Nobody treats me the way she does, my mere existence pisses her off.

She smiles as if she’s happy, but what comes out of her mouth is always low-key aggressive. She’s the ultimate temper bait.

“Well what?” I reply.

“Are you going to talk to me on your visit?”

I dust my jacket off as I try to think of something to say. “How do you like working here?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes. “Are you going to try and pay me off to resign again?”

I wince. I did do that . . . didn’t I?

“Of course not,” I snap. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

She exhales heavily and turns back to her computer. “Well, do you want to discuss anything?”

That little red dress you own.

“Not particularly.” I run my pointer finger back and forth over my lips as I stare at her.

“So . . .” She raises an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“What do you mean, what?”

“Why are you acting weird?” she asks.

“I’m not,” I scoff as I stand. “I came to visit you, but obviously you don’t want visitors.”

“Mr. Miles.”

“Elliot,” I correct her.

She frowns as she stares at me. “Okay, you asking me to call you that is weird in itself. I’ve been here for seven years and never once have you asked me to call you that or bothered to visit me.”

“I’ve been very busy,” I fire back.

“For seven years?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Precisely.” I move for the door. “And now I know why I’ve been so busy.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re a very bad host, Kathryn.”

A trace of a smile crosses her face. “Are you high?”

“What?” I snap. “Of course I’m not fucking high.”

“Okay . . .”

I inhale deeply as I try to think of something to rectify this fuckup of a conversation. “I’m leaving,” I announce.

She smirks. “Okay . . .”

“Is that all you can say today . . . okay?”

She narrows her eyes. “Mr. Miles.”

“Elliot,” I correct her.

“Elliot, are you feeling alright?”

“I was until I visited you.” I exhale heavily. “Now you’ve completely ruined my day.”

She smiles as she puts her hand over her chest. “There he is, oh thank God, I thought I was going to have to call a doctor.”

I glare at her. “Goodbye, Kathryn.”

She smiles sweetly and waves with her fingertips. “Goodbye, have a nice day, my favorite boss ever.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I snap.

She turns back to her computer. “Just being a good office host. How am I doing?”

“Failing miserably.” I march out of her office and back to the elevator.

I push the button with force and clench my jaw as I try to think of a reasonable excuse as to why I came down here.

Nope . . .

I’ve got nothing.

The woman’s a bona fide bitch.

KATE

I walk out of the front doors of my building an hour later to see Daniel’s big smile: he’s leaning against his parked car on the other side of the road.

I smile and wave and make my way over to him across one of the busiest streets in London. “How did you find a parking space here?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” He winks. “I thought we could go shopping for a little bit.” He throws his arm over my shoulders as we stroll along.

“Shopping?” I screw up my face. “Ugh, I don’t want to go shopping, I can think of nothing worse. I’ll meet you at home.”

“Well . . .” He pauses as if getting the wording right in his head. “You know how I told you that I got invited to that function on Thursday night and I asked you to come with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I asked some questions and I’ve just been sent the guest list.”

“So?”

“Every potential client in the entire world will be in that ballroom.”

I screw up my face again. “Will you speak English, what the hell are you talking about?”

“You need to look fucking incredible.”

“Me?” I scoff as I point to my chest. “Why me?”

“Because everyone will know that I styled you.”

I stop on the spot. “I’m not being your walking billboard, Daniel,” I snap. “I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to go anymore, take Rebecca instead. She can be your mannequin.”

“No. I need you.” He links his arm through mine and drags me along. “You have the look that I need and I know exactly what I’m doing with you. And don’t worry, I’m footing the entire bill.”

“Why would you offer to pay?”

“Well, I’m returning everything on Friday. Don’t get excited, I’m not that nice.”

“Isn’t that, I don’t know . . . a crime?” My eyes widen in exasperation.

“Only a little bit, and if you ruin anything, I’ll kill you. Oh, and I’ve booked you in for a hair and makeup appointment.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” I cry.

He runs his fingers over the top of my head and over the neat bun nestled tightly in the back. “Nothing . . . if you were ninety.”

I roll my eyes as he drags me along.