There’s nothing like getting a frantic phone call from a client during a staff meeting.
As soon as Elle’s name appeared on my screen, I excused myself and headed back to our ‘war room’, Nas hot on my heels. I answered and put the phone on speaker, barely getting out ‘hello’ before Elle rattled off a confusing list of events and details, culminating in a revelation that could explode this entire case, not to mention Paloma’s carefully thought-out plan.
‘Franzia is there? At Leo’s shop?’ I ask, just to make sure I’ve got this right.
‘Yes! Leo just let her in because she was about to bang the door down. She’s been carrying on about how he’s ruining everything for her, how if they end the engagement, she won’t be named brand ambassador. Brand ambassador for what? Ranty bitches dot com?’
‘Elle, listen,’ I say calmly, hoping to soothe her escalating emotions. She stops talking but her uneven breathing is audible over the line.
‘We’ll figure this out,’ I say right as Paloma joins us. Nasrin quietly fills her in. ‘What time does the shop open?’ I ask Elle. The last thing this case needs is Leo’s staff and a shop full of people witnessing the Leo–Elle–Franzia love triangle blowing up.
‘Er, ten-thirty, I believe. But that’s less than an hour away. Poppy, what do I do? I’m up here cowering under a bloody duvet.’
‘Just give me a sec.’ I put the phone on mute and address my colleagues. ‘The shop opens at ten-thirty. Thoughts?’
‘They’re in Soho?’ Paloma asks. I nod and her eyes go to the clock. ‘Hmm. The only thing I can think of is an extraction. We could get someone there in about ten minutes.’
‘But who are they extracting?’ I ask. ‘We can’t just bring in Elle and Leo and leave Franzia at Leo’s shop. She’d wreak even more havoc.’
‘Right,’ she agrees.
‘And we can’t kidnap a supermodel,’ Nas chimes in. ‘Or can we?’
‘No!’ Paloma and I say together.
‘Poppy?’ It’s Elle. ‘Poppy, are you there?’
Looking defeated, something I’ve never seen from her before, Paloma shakes her head, one shoulder lifting in a half-hearted shrug.
‘Sorry, I’ve got nothing either,’ says Nasrin.
I take the phone off mute. ‘Hi, Elle, sorry – just conferring with my colleagues about the best way forward.’
I’m about to tell her we failed to find one when she says, ‘Hang on.’ There’s a muffled conversation between her and a male voice, presumably Leo, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
‘I’m back,’ she says a few moments later. ‘She’s gone – Franzia left.’ The relief in her voice permeates the air of our meeting room.
‘That’s good, Elle, but we’ll still want to control the fall-out,’ I say.
‘How do you mean? Can’t I just go home now?’
‘Elle, this is Paloma Martinez-Pérez, head of client relations at the Ever After Agency.’ I’m all for Paloma jumping into the conversation, but she’s introduced herself as if this is an actual war room and she’s about to brief the president.
‘Er, hello.’
‘We think it’s best if you and Leo come to the agency right away – before the staff arrive and the shop opens.’
There’s another muffled conversation, then, ‘You want Leo to come too?’
‘Yes. We need you here together to brief you on our plan.’
A beat of silence. ‘Okay. Send the address and we’ll be there as soon as we can.’
‘Be ready in ten minutes,’ says Paloma. ‘We’re sending a car – a black Bentley and your driver is called Carl.’
Wow – first the offer of an extraction team, now we’re sending a luxury car? Why not a helicopter? It’s clear that Paloma does a lot more at the agency than organise congratulatory gifts. This is just the first time I’ve had to delve into her bag of not-so-magic-money-buys-anything tricks.
I end the call with reassurances for Elle and Leo and am about to thank Paloma when she says, ‘Let me know when they arrive. I’ll be in my office.’
Right, so I’m no longer lead on this case – Paloma is. It’s the first time this has happened to me as well.
I fall heavily into a chair and Nasrin sits next to me. ‘That was intense,’ she says.
‘What do you think Franzia will do?’ I ask.
She shakes her head. ‘No idea, but we should ask Mia to keep a close watch on socials, yeah?’
‘Mmm, good point.’
My phone rings again and I snatch it from the table, expecting Elle with another update. But it’s Tristan.
‘Hi, Tris.’
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ says Nasrin. She closes the door behind her.
‘Hello, darling. I just wrapped up a meeting and wondered how yours went.’
I lean back against the chair, once again grateful for having this man in my life. ‘Well, I didn’t get fired, so there’s that.’
He laughs. ‘I doubt you were in danger of being fired. They love you there.’
‘Mmm, Paloma may not. She just took over my case.’
‘Oh, Poppy – sorry, darling.’
‘Eh, she’s right to. Anyway, the client is being brought in shortly, so I should probably go.’
‘All right. Fill me in at home. I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
I’ve got my HEA. Now it’s time for Elle to get hers.
Elle
Ten minutes is not a long time to get ready, especially when you can’t find your knickers.
‘Found ’em,’ says Leo, tossing them my way. I slip them on. ‘Somehow, they ended up in there.’ He points at the mechanism that converts the sofa from sitting to sleeping.
The ‘somehow’ is that Leo and I had sexy time on the sofa twice before he converted it into a bed and then once again after that. I’m amazed we found them.
Knickers on, I scout about for the rest of my clothes. Oh, that’s right – Prue’s candy-pink outfit. I stoop and collect the items from the floor with a grimace. They’re wrinkled and I’d rather not wear them a second day, but what choice do I have?
‘I might have something better, if you like,’ says Leo, ever the mind reader.
He crosses to a narrow cabinet and inside are two pairs of jeans, three T-shirts, and a white dress shirt. ‘For when I’m working late and end up staying here,’ he explains with a shrug.
I already know about the bathroom that’s adjacent to the office and stocked with emergency toiletries. It even has a shower, something I’m glad I used before we went to sleep, as there won’t be time for one this morning.
‘Take your pick,’ he says, giving me first choice. I choose a pair of jeans and the dress shirt while Leo puts on his Hank Moody outfit.
‘Umm…’ The jeans are swimming on me, of course, and if I don’t hold them up, they’ll fall off.
‘Wait here.’ He runs upstairs and in no time, he’s back bearing a box. ‘Samples from the US,’ he says. He rifles through it and takes out a Kelly-green belt that will fit me perfectly.
‘The cactus leather?’ I ask, slipping it on.
‘Yep.’
‘I love the colour.’
‘It’s my favourite.’ He checks his watch. ‘Shit, three minutes.’
‘Enough time to brush our teeth,’ I say, which we do side by side at the small sink, much like we used to do when we were students and in love.
In love. I almost choke on the toothpaste. Are we back in love? I regard Leo in the mirror and he meets my eye and gives me a wink that sends a surge of warmth hurtling through my body. Who knew teeth brushing could be so romantic?
He spits and rinses, then I do – not as romantic – then it’s a frantic rush to put on our shoes, gather our belongings, and run down the stairs.
When we get to the front door, Linda is about to put her key in the lock. She blinks at us in bewilderment, then her mouth does that judgey thing again. So far, I’ve made a terrible impression on her. Leo unlocks the door and swings it open.
‘Good morning, Linda,’ he chirrups as though it’s not plainly obvious we’ve spent the night together.
‘Er, good morning,’ she stammers.
‘Excuse us,’ Leo says, ushering us through the door and onto the footpath right as a black Bentley pulls up kerbside.
Leo opens the door for me – he always was a gentleman – and I get in, scooching across to the other side.
‘Hello, Carl,’ I say as Leo gets in.
‘Howdy, Carl,’ he adds.
Carl nods at us politely via the rearview mirror, then waits for us to buckle up before heading into traffic.
‘Phoof,’ I sigh, leaning back against the seat. ‘That was…’
‘Exciting?’
I look across the backseat and raise my eyebrows at him. ‘I was about to say “harrowing”.’
‘Hey, we made it in time.’
‘Linda hates me.’
He reaches for my hand and holds it tightly in his. ‘She doesn’t hate you.’
‘Disapproves of me then.’
‘Linda doesn’t know you. And she’s just trying to be a good manager.’
‘Mmm,’ I reply tartly as I turn my head and look out the window.
‘You know,’ he says, leaning close and murmuring in my ear, ‘you look super sexy wearing my clothes.’
My lips curl up despite myself and I gaze back at him flirtatiously. And why not? If he can flirt with me, I can flirt right back.
Unfortunately, my mind has other ideas, homing in on the question I asked myself at the bathroom mirror: are we back in love?
Poppy
It’s not often that a secret client and their love interest come to the agency. You’d think that we were matching Miley with Harry with the amount of interest my colleagues show when Elle and Leo arrive. George especially! His efforts at surreptitious gawking stick out like dogs’ balls (as my dinky-di dad would say).
Anita is the exception, but then, she’s a pro. Even if they were Miley and Harry – ‘Harley’? – she’d greet them the same way: as if they’re people. Fancy that!
She guides them over to me and Nasrin and heads back to reception after both decline a beverage – although Elle looks like she could do with a hit of caffeine. They both do.
I rush through introductions and lead them out of the line of prying eyes into the conference room – the room without the whiteboard that’s covered in their personal details. No need to share how the sausage is made – or, rather, the HEAs.
‘So,’ says Nasrin, kicking us off. ‘First off, just want to say I’m a massive fan,’ she tells Leo.
The professional that I am, I resist the urge to roll my eyes, flick her under the table, and say, ‘For fuck’s sake, Nas!’
He offers her a guarded smile. ‘Uh, thanks.’
‘Now,’ I say to redirect his attention. ‘I understand Elle filled you in on who we are and how we’re connected to… well, you.’
He nods and takes her hand, and they share a glance laden with affection. And from this brief exchange, I know. A match has been made. Typically, I’d be rejoicing, but we’re so far from being out of the proverbial woods, we could build a log cabin from where we’re sitting.
‘Good,’ I say, and their eyes return to me, both sets wary but tempered with hope. It’s now up to me to instil confidence that Paloma’s plan – the agency’s plan – will work.
‘Here’s what we’re going to do.’
