Page 112 of The Girlfriend Clause
Andrea
Wednesday was heretoo soon. I wasn’t ready. Processing what had happened in his apartment was bad enough, but with the threat of redundancies too, my head was spinning. I’d had no mental space to think about how I was going to handle co-hosting a minister, let alone how to bring my “vibe” to his apartment, or whatever it was he wanted me to do.
Liam had sent a car for us—not a Prius smelling vaguely of BO and pine air freshener, but a white Mercedes, driven by a man in a peaked cap. It slid to a stop beneath Harcourt House, and the concierge stepped forward and opened the door.
“Good evening, Ms. Jones.” He nodded at me, then Eliza. “And your guest. Welcome.”
Apparently, our reputation now included arriving in chauffeured cars. Good to know.
I stepped out and slipped around the back of the car to pop the boot. It was stuffed with all sorts of paraphernalia that was supposed to make the appearance of me living at Liam’s—at least on a part-time basis—more convincing. Wehad way too much. I began pulling the bags out onto the street and noticed the concierge hovering.
“Ms. Jones, please.” His lips were tight. “Allow us to bring this upstairs for you.”
Eliza shot me a look. “Told you we should have packed properly,” she muttered.
We’d run out of suitcases and had shoved what we could into grocery bags and anything else we could find. A pot plant poked out of a take-away noodle bag next to a bundle of new TK Maxx throw cushions in a plastic laundry basket. It looked a bit wrong here, outside Liam’s place right next to Claridge’s. Oh well. He’d literally asked me to bring whatever might make this more convincing, so that was what we’d done.
Admittedly, I’d enjoyed buying the worst cushions I could find. Liam may have underestimated my capacity for petty revenge.
“Er… okay. Fine. Thanks.”
I reached into the back seat to grab the pet carrier just as a porter appeared behind me and held out a hand. Mr. Darcy mewed hysterically.
“Thinking the cat might not have been the best move, either,” Eliza added under her breath.
“He needs his meds on schedule,” I said, keeping my voice low. Poor Mr. Darcy was now on insulin. Even one late dose could be a disaster, and Eliza staying at home with him wouldn’t have helped—she’d never have got the needle in him. “Anyway, Mr. Darcy will be an asset. No way a man like Liam would have a cat in his penthouse unless he was crazy about his ‘girlfriend’.”
Thank God Mr. Darcy didn’t traveltoobadly. Well. For a cat, anyway.
The porter smiled and took the pet carrier from me, thenstepped back to let us go in. I hoped to God our little furry friend didn’t decide to wee before we got inside.
Shit. Litter tray. We hadn’t considered that. I’d been so distracted.What were wethinking?
The concierge led us to a separate lift at the rear, touched a fob to the panel, and stepped back as the lift doors opened.
“Mr. Roth is expecting you, ma’am.”
“Um… I think we’d rather take the stairs, actually,” I said. The thought of even stepping foot into the elevator still made me feel rather sick.
“Are we sure, ma’am? Mr. Roth’s is on the tenth floor.”
“Andy,” Eliza hissed.
“I know it is. I’ve climbed them before,” I said.
“Elevator’s fine,” said Eliza, looking pointedly at me. She smiled at the concierge and took my hand. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“But Mr. Dar—”
“They’ve got the cat, Andy,” said Eliza.
“We’ll bring your companion animal straight up, Ms. Jones, along with your luggage.”
The doors closed, and we started to rise. “It’s all right, Sis.” Eliza gave my hand a quick squeeze. “You’re going to have to get used to using lifts again, eventually. And we can’t have you showing up all sweaty for your sexy billionaireboyf, can we?”
“He’s not my ‘boyf’, Eliza.” She’d been going on like this all day, and I’d given up correcting her. At least it took my mind off being in a lift again, though. It was taking an age to get there, and I felt my pulse start to rise.Why did he have to live on the tenthfloor?
