Lynn Montagano - Effortless

“Hmm.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about. If he’s offering you alcohol consider yourself bonded to him for life. Listen, while I’ve got your attention, I wanted to talk to you about the interview with Brent Garrison.”

My eyebrows shot straight up. I’d been so wrapped up in my personal utopia I’d forgotten about that. Plus, he owned Pulse, the destination that Julian tossed out for our cocktail meeting.

“You know him, right?”

“Uh, well, sort of,” I stammered, remembering our brief encounters all too well. “We’ve bumped into one another socially a few times.”

“You’re dating Alastair Holden so you will find yourself in the company of the city’s upper echelon.”

Keeping my hands hidden under the desk, I twisted the ring again. My personal life had been a hot topic at my former news station in Orlando thanks to the fact that Alastair’s company purchased our rival. But here? It was always on display no matter the circumstance. People were so curious about me and how I’d managed to tame Britain’s most eligible bachelor.

“Just so you know, Julian is ripe with questions for you. He’s been dying to have Alastair as a guest for ages. Tonight’s cocktail adventure could be his way of loosening you up.”

“He knows enough to back off when it comes to my relationship. Don’t worry about me.”

Once Robbie left my office I set to work. A couple of the correspondents stopped by to review their package scripts with me and discuss placement in the show. I’d managed to stack the first twenty minutes by lunchtime and ran the segments by Sam to get any needed feedback. So far, so good.

At one, I decided to take a break and grab something to eat. Plus, I had to call Stephanie and tell her the news. Even though we’d technically been engaged since July, Alastair and I had kept it between us. The summer had been such a stressful time for both of us that we decided to stay quiet until I was settled here and we were ready to let everybody else in on the secret.

I stopped myself mid-dial. My parents. I had to tell them first. And my sister. Lowering the phone back into the cradle I considered my options. It was early back home, barely past eight in the morning. My mother was probably having her third cup of coffee and debating whether or not to meet her circle of friends for a leisurely lunch. My dad was most certainly working. Even though he’d retired a few years ago he still did consulting work for the bank on the side.

I should do a video call . A small laugh escaped my lips. Trying to explain Skype to them would be nothing short of hilarious if I wanted to tell them face to face.

My dialing was interrupted a second time by a knock on my door.

“Sorry to bother you. These were just delivered.” Meredith walked in carrying a sizable bouquet of red roses.

“They’re lovely,” she said, placing them on the desk. “You’re quite lucky.”

Not saying anything further, she left. I searched for a card and found one nestled in with the baby’s breath.

If my calculations are correct, these will make you smile. Looking forward to tonight.

Yours, ARH xx

Oh no. Tonight. Dammit.

I grabbed the phone and dialed his office.

“Holden World Media.”

“Hi, Simone. It’s Lia. Is he busy?”

“Hold please.”

His assistant sounded miffed at my familiarity on the phone. Or maybe I was just being paranoid. I stroked the pretty petals while listening to some rather dire sounding hold music. They should probably play some of their own artists’ music instead of this , I thought, twisting the phone cord.

“Holden,” he answered, irritated.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“Amelia.” The desirous way he said my name gave me an unexpected rush. “Not at all, kitten. Did you get my special delivery?”

“I did. They’re beautiful.” I paused. “Is everything okay? You sound stressed.”

Silence permeated through the phone before he answered. “Everything’s fine. I’m about to go sit with the finance team so you caught me just in time.” He lowered his voice. “Have you been doing as I asked all day?”

The phone nearly slipped out of my hand from the tremor of yearning that shot through my body. I composed myself before lowering the boom about tonight. “Um, so, I’ve been invited out for cocktails tonight with Julian. Well, invited is too kind. He sort of told me it was happening and where and when to meet him.”

“Did he?” he asked, clearly annoyed. “What time?”

“Eight. He said he has a table at Pulse already reserved so—”

“Will Garrison be there?”

I could hear the scowl in his tone.

“Not that I’m aware of. Do you want to come with me?”

“This wasn’t quite what I had in mind for us,” he muttered. “I should stay here later seeing as you’ll be out. Maybe I could stop by around nine?”

“If you’re not too tired. Julian likes to harass you into appearing on the show every time he sees you.”

“I’m never too tired for you. Plan on seeing me at nine then.”

* * *

The taxi arrived to pick me up at quarter to eight. I gave my hair one last fluff and checked my lip-gloss. I’d read a little bit about Pulse and my impression was that it was fairly swanky. I did another quick check in the hall mirror at my black sparkly tank dress and was off.

As the cabbie drove me through Glasgow’s West End, I soaked in the city. Old world charm weaved itself through modern flair. It was loud. It was quiet. It was bright. It was romantic. This was certainly a far cry from the brightly colored print shirts and never-ending flip-flops that defined tourist central, otherwise known as Orlando, and I loved every last bit of it.

Pulse was located inside a large stone building. It looked rather nondescript on the surface, more like an old bank than an ultra lounge. From what I’d heard, Pulse had become quite the hot spot since Brent opened it over the summer. I noted with pride a glossy advertisement by the entrance that Stephanie had designed. She’d certainly found her calling, and her passion, with graphic design work.

A rather large, intimidating looking bouncer walked over to me.

“Miss Meyers?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Follow me please. Mr. Archer is waiting inside.”

I pulled out my cell phone and checked the time as he led me inside the building. It was only five past eight. Apparently, I was late. When I looked up from the phone, I gasped. This place was incredible. Dimly lit in shades of blue, cream and lavender, the whole room gave off a cool, modern vibe. White leather couches shaped like trapezoids were chaotically organized throughout the space. Small, cube shaped chairs flanked dark wooden tables. I couldn’t help but stare at the ceiling as we weaved our way through the crowd. It was made entirely of lights that were fragmented into triangles but were perfectly positioned to look like a huge stained glass window all in white.

Every person I passed was better dressed than the last. I appreciated this being a high-end bar but found myself wishing it was a little less pretentious and a little more relaxed.

“Ah, Lia.” Julian stood up from the reserved table and kissed both my cheeks. “Gorgeous dress. Have a seat. What do you fancy for a drink?”

“Um,” I glanced at the drink menu, “I’ll have the Secret Crush please.”

He grinned at me slyly after giving our drink orders to the server. My brows lifted a bit as I smiled back, anticipating what could possibly come out of his mouth.

“Is there a specific reason why you negotiated your contract to last only three months, which incidentally, is the length of your temporary visa?”

My stomach dropped and I did that really attractive fish mouth thing where my lips parted but nothing came out.