The Liberation of Alice Love - Abby McDonald [10]
His words repeated, full of promise. A cute little hotel in Paris? She found herself blushing at the idea. She wasn’t the most spontaneous person, even Alice would admit that, but taking off with a complete stranger to, what, have rampant sex at some undisclosed location? No, it was ridiculous, not to mention irresponsible and quite possibly dangerous too, she told herself sternly. He clearly didn’t know her at all.
Alice reached to a tray of cupcakes and bit into the sweet frosting.
Completely ridiculous.
Chapter Three
Monday arrived too soon, and by the time Alice was settled at her desk, surveying the stack of work awaiting her, it felt as if she’d never left. The blue skies that had blazed all weekend were gone, and now her windows rattled with a dull, gray drizzle; summer, it seemed, was still a long way away. She delayed the inevitable for a while, watering her plants, setting her radio to one of Chopin’s particularly mournful waltzes, but soon there was no avoiding it. Alice braced herself and reached for the first contract in the pile.
Remind me never to go on a blind date. EVER. A chat window from Ella appeared on the screen.
Bad? Alice typed, gladly turning away from her inbox.
He was writing a graphic novel. About a time-traveling gnome.
Alice spluttered on her chamomile tea. This I’ve got to hear.
Ella’s reply came straight away. Tonight? I scored tickets to the Liberty Reigns premiere—our client has product placement in every bloody scene.
Ooh, I wanted to see that, but Tyrell snatched our client freebies.
Leicester Square @ 7?
See you then!
Alice had barely finished typing when she heard footsteps on the stairs. She minimized the window and quickly reached for the nearest papers, guilty.
“Hiya!” Saskia burst in with an armful of post. Alice relaxed.
“Morning.” She gave her a smile, reaching to take the mail. Saskia dumped it on the nearest surface instead, sending a neat stack scattering to the floor. “Whoops!” she exclaimed. “Let me help you with—”
“No!” Alice yelped, as she reached toward a painstakingly sorted pile of contracts. “I mean, it’s fine. I have it all under control.”
“OK.” Saskia gave her a saccharine smile. “Oh, I need the administrator passwords. Vi wants me to do some resetting stuff.”
Alice paused. What kind of havoc could she wreak with those? “If you’re sure…” She found the master list in her top drawer and reluctantly scribbled down the codes. “Be careful with them,” she warned. “They can access all our payroll details.”
Saskia rolled her eyes. “Of course!” She turned to go. “Oh, there were some messages for you.”
“Really?” Alice straightened.
“Just a couple of clients. About tax stuff?” Saskia shrugged. “I can email them up.”
“Oh.” Alice sat back again. “Thanks.”
As Saskia bounded back down the stairs, Alice felt a small pang of disappointment. It was foolish, she knew, but she’d spent Sunday hoping that Nathan would call. It would be easy enough for him to get her number, and although she’d been thrown by the proposition, Alice couldn’t help but feel that thrill of possibility. It had been so long since she’d met anyone interesting, let alone someone who seemed to like her too—enough to invite her on a scandalous weekend abroad, at least. Alice idly toyed with her pen as she remembered his expression and the flash of interest in his eyes. Perhaps he would invite her to dinner, or drinks, or—and—
Alice stopped herself. What was she even thinking? She didn’t waste time pining over men; she’d learned that lesson years ago. If they were interested, they would do something about it, and if they didn’t—well, then they clearly didn’t care enough to waste her time wondering over them. It was simple, far simpler than any books or magazines or even her friends would admit. Believing otherwise, she knew, would only leave her feeling an ache every night, absence like a physical form in the empty bed beside her.
Alice turned the music a little louder and went back to work.
***
She had almost untangled the mess of an option clause a producer had tried to slip through