The driver gets into the car and starts the engine. We pull away from the curb and join the steady flow of traffic moving towards the city center.
I sit back in my seat and stare out of the window without really seeing anything. I give myself a good talking to. Yes, Brett is good looking. But I have been around good looking men before and never have I lost my mind like this. I need to get a grip of myself and fast. This is business, nothing more and nothing less and I need to remember that.
The moving scenery gets my attention as the driver pulls off the main through road and goes down a series of smaller streets. After a few moments and several more twists and turns, we’re heading down a deserted country road. I remember Mr. Connell telling me that this dinner party would be held at William Hardy’s home, a country mansion in the middle of nowhere.
I feel excitement swirling through my stomach again, and this time, it has nothing to do with Brett. It’s a genuine excitement for the event we’re going to be attending. I think it sounds like the perfect place for a nice evening of chatting and good food.
The car moves along the deserted road. Trees line the road on either side and it’s so dark here that it feels like the dead of night. I imagine owls swooping through the trees and night creatures stalking through the woods. I almost laugh out loud at my own crazy thoughts, but I hold it in. I don’t want Mr. Connell’s driver to think I’ve lost the plot.
The car slows down and I peer between the seats, so I can see through the windscreen. We’re approaching a large set of wrought iron gates set into a high brick wall. It looks more like a prison than a mansion, but I was expecting some sort of security to be in place. William is a multi millionaire, so he’s not going to have his property open for just anyone to waltz into.
“Ms Collins representing Asima Asset Management,” the driver says into the intercom.
I feel another prickle of excitement go through me. He makes it sound like I’m here as an equal to Brett, rather than as his subordinate, and I suppose in some ways, I am. I mean I know more about the company than he does certainly, and Mr. Connell himself asked me to come this evening to make sure it all goes well. To insure that Brett talks to the right people. For tonight only, maybe I can really be more than just a personal assistant. I already bring real value to the company, and maybe I can make myself even more of an asset.
The gates open and we drive through them. They begin to close the second we’re inside. The long driveway is lined with manicured trees and little lights are scattered through them in strategic places, casting an ethereal glow over the road.
Yes, I say to myself, tonight is going to be a raging success, and I’m going to remind Mr. Connell of why he trusts me so much. There’s going to be no flirting with Brett, no imagining what it would be like to kiss him. It’s going to be all about the business.
4
We drive for what feels like at least a mile before the road before us opens out into a wide circle in front of the mansion. The mansion is beautiful, large and white and gleaming. A set of white marble stairs lead up to the doors of the house and the doors stand open and two men stand either side of them, waiters holding trays of champagne flutes. In the center of the circular road, a large fountain throws white water into the air and then the water comes cascading back down through a series of lights that makes it look like something out of a fairy tale. William has definitely gone all out on this dinner party if this is anything to go by.
I wonder for a second where all of the other cars are.
Then my question is answered when a man in black trousers and a red jacket steps out of the trees and comes to the car as it rolls to a stop at the base of the stairs. The driver rolls the window down and the man introduces himself as Mr. Hardy’s valet. The driver politely declines his services, explaining that he won’t be staying, he’s just dropping me off. The valet nods and blends back into the shadows.
It always amazes me how the staff at these kinds of events so effortlessly fade into the background and then magically appear when they are needed.
I thank my driver and then I reach for the door handle, but before I can open the door, it opens for me and a hand reaches in. I take the hand and step out of the car, careful not to flash too much flesh as I get out. I manage to leave the car reasonably gracefully, which I’m pleased about, particularly when I look up and see the owner of the hand is Brett.
He looks as hot as always, dressed in a full black tuxedo and a crisp looking white shirt. “You look great Opal.” He smiles as he releases my hand.
“Thank you,” I say, feeling myself blushing slightly under his approving gaze. “You scrub up pretty well yourself.”
He laughs softly and offers
