talking about the past. Only the present or future. But the fact that we have history is off the table now. Okay?”
“Okay…” I reply slowly, wishing I could pull this car over to take a walk down memory lane right bloody now.
“Number two,” she continues. “No flirting or over-friendly compliments. And no chivalry. Don’t open doors for me or be a gentleman. Just treat me like one of the guys.”
My hands tighten around the steering wheel because just having Tilly in my car, invading my nose with her familiar honeysuckle scent that she had five years ago, will make that rule an almost definite impossibility. “I’ll do my best.”
“Please do,” she quips. “Also, we pay for our own food.”
“I can’t give you that one,” I argue, staring at the road. “This is a business meeting, so I’ll pay.”
“You said you’re not charging me for your services, though.”
“So?”
“So, at the very least then, I should buy your dinner.”
“What happened to paying for our own food?” I ask, holding back a teasing smile.
“I don’t care. I’m buying dinner. End of discussion.” Hearing her resigned tone, I can’t help but feel like I’ve already won.
“Anything else you want to add to this list?”
“Nothing I can think of for now. Do you have anything you want to add?”
I exhale heavily. I could think of many things I want to add, but I’m almost certain she wouldn’t agree with them.
Santino takes me to Dishoom in Shoreditch. It’s a vibrant, trendy little place that has a line around the building. However, Santino bypasses everyone, and a man by the name of Keenil immediately ushers us to a cosy little two-seater right by the window. When I ask Santino how we got seated so quickly, he waves me off, saying the owner is a big football fan.
“Drinks?” the waitress asks, her pen and paper in hand.
“I’ll have a chai tea, please.”
“Make that two,” Santino adds.
I frown. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Drink tea. You can have a drink. I won’t start convulsing at the table.”
“I love the chai tea here. Truly.”
The waitress takes off, not the least bit interested, and I exhale slowly. Santino ordering a non-alcoholic drink feels dangerously chivalrous, and that was one of the rules I did not want him to break tonight. I don’t need a reason to be attracted to him.
But if I’m being honest, the gesture is really sweet.
Throughout dinner, I find myself stress-eating naan and talking incessantly about Freya’s pet clothing selections for Harrods and how she continues to gain followers on Instagram. I think I even tell a long-winded story about how her cat Hercules won’t let me try any of the clothes on him because he hates me and hisses anytime I go near him. Then I share how her cat Jasper and I get on well and he sleeps on the spare pillow on my bed every night now, and oh my God, I sound like a crazy fucking single cat lady. Who fucking cares about Freya and Mac’s stupid cats right now? What is wrong with me?
I take a long drink of tea to calm my mind because I know what’s wrong with me. I’m talking a lot because I’m nervous. And I’m nervous because Santino looks stupidly hot tonight.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been sinfully attractive in his tailored suits and slicked-back business hairstyle. But tonight, he’s casual sexy in a pair of soft, faded jeans and trainers plus a sort of expensive-looking jumper that I’m sure cost more than my entire outfit. And his black hair is soft without a spot of gel in sight. Its natural waves continually flop over his forehead, reminding me of the times we were intimate. He would be on top of me, driving deep inside, his hair a mess from my fingers raking through it. The vivid memories of how he made me feel when we were tangled up cause a warmth to spread within me. Stop it, Tilly. Stop it right now. This is not a walk down memory lane. This is not a date. This is a business meeting.
In fact, he told me to dress comfortably, which means he wanted to be sure I didn’t show up in a sexy little black dress and heels. That means Santino doesn’t want a walk down memory lane either.
So this is good.
I can just…relax and be myself tonight.
I become a bit less twitchy as we go over the new contract he drew up. It’s perfect in every