Page 24 of Resisting Mr Black

“And to bagging yourself a rich, handsome piece of gorgeousness.” Lucy knocks back her drink.

“He’s just helping me out.” I take a sip of Prosecco, not entirely believing Art’s done all this out of the goodness of his heart.

“He definitely wants you, you lucky cow. Have you agreed to go on a date with him yet?”

“No.” I realise there’s a very real chance he’s got tired of me knocking him back. I wouldn’t imagine that’s something that happens to him very often. Maybe he’s bored of waiting and has moved on. He must have a string of women waiting to swoop in and take my place. The thought unsettles me, and I take a fortifying drink of Prosecco.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s the sort of guy a woman could really fall for,” I admit. “He’s got the looks, he’s successful. He’s saying he’s never had a girlfriend because he “hasn’t found the right one”, but I’m not sure that wasn’t just a lie to convince me he isn’t a womaniser, which I still think he is.”

Lucy’s eyes light up, and she picks up her phone. “Hold that thought.”

I’d rather not. I take another sip of Prosecco and wince as the dry bubbles hit the back of my throat. My phone buzzes. It’s a text from an unknown number. I open it.

Have you settled in okay? Art.

My stomach flips. I wonder how he has my number, then I swiftly remember he found my address from my personnel file, so he’d be able to retrieve my mobile number from there as well. I glance up to find Lucy too engrossed in scrolling through something or other on her phone to pay me any attention.

Yes. Thank you. Please thank your friend for me.

His reply is instantaneous.

Consider him thanked. Are you still going out?

Yes.

Be careful.

He’s taken a sudden interest in my safety again.

“Aha!” Lucy exclaims. “Here it is.”

I put my phone back down.

“I’ve done a bit of digging on Mr Italian Stallion,” Lucy exclaims proudly.

“You mean you’ve cyberstalked him.”

“Researched him,” she corrects, sliding her phone over to me. “Read it for yourself. You won’t fucking believe it.”

I hesitantly pick up the phone and look at theForbesRich List from a few years back. There’s a photo of a clean-shaven Art looking ravishing, dressed in a black suit. The caption underneath reads:

Net worth: £5 million, Founder of international gym chain Go Fitness, Art Black’s year has gone from strength to strength. The Oxford-educated millionaire and self-confessed bachelor’s fortune has seen a 15% rise in shares over the past twelve months. If it’s your scene, potential wooers might stop by London’s ultra-exclusive Savage club, where he is reportedly a regular.

“So? He’s had a good education and is worth a few quid.”I’m not sure what she’s getting so excited about.

Lucy frowns. “Not that part, the part about the club he attends. Savage.” She’s looking at me like it should mean something, but I’m lost. “Have you ever heard of it?”

“No.”

“Neither have I, so I Googled it. Turns out it’s an extremely exclusive S & M club.”

My brain flounders around for something to say. My mouth has suddenly dried as my mind conjures images of black PVC outfits and whips. “S & M?”

“Yeah. You know, latex, rubber, tying each other up, whips and chains…”

I need her to shut up. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it.” I rub my forehead and take a hefty swig of Prosecco.