Page 12 of Midnight Kisses

Adding further fuel to Sadie’s refusal to genuflect was the fact my mother liked her. As far as Sadie was concerned, this gave her immunity to do whatever she wanted. Which, at Elysian, was more or less true.

A few years ago at a company Christmas lunch, my mother got an awful glint in her eye and I knew she was envisioning Sadie and I together romantically. I vehemently rejected this idea, but my mother was stubborn and had argued the point right up until I took the piece of steak Sadie wanted, and her loud threats to castrate me finally chased the idea out of my mother’s eyes. It wasn’t an empty threat, either—Sadie had grown up on a sheep station and often bragged of grim skills like this.

After that, my mother recalibrated her assessment of our dynamic to that of siblings, which was closer to the truth but still fell short. I thought of us more as homeowner and poltergeist.

“I don’t have her name,” I told Sadie. “I met her at the New Year’s party.”

“You’re fucked then,” she said cheerfully, shoving my feet until I made room for her on the sofa. “What search terms have you been using?”

Hot blonde, Sky Tower bathroom woman, sexy model, nice tits.

“Descriptions,” I said evasively.

Sadie’s expression was scornful. “You can’t find a missed connection with synonyms for boobs, Miles.”

Instead of telling her she was right, because I would rather die, I shrugged and knocked back a glass of water.

“Do you know the names of any of her family or friends? Often when people lock down their profiles, their friends post photos of them anyway. Parents and grandparents comment the most out the gate shit on photos. If you gave me an hour I could probably crack most people’s security questions this way. Yours would besoeasy. Mother’s maiden name, Hubbard. First pet, a rock named Toby?—”

“I had a dog, too.”

She levelled a look. “We both know you preferred the rock. Less emotional investment.”

The dog had been fucking needy.

Like I said, the secret to happiness was caring only about yourself. I felt so strongly about this, if it wasn’t in direct contradiction with the core principle, I’d give seminars.

“Go away, Sadie.”

“No, let’s track down your dream girl. I’ve never seen you so interested in someone. It must have been a very memorable meeting.”

Neithermemorablenormeetingwere the right words for what had happened with the goddess in the bathroom, but I let it slide. Sadie already knew everything about my habits, my childhood, and my family. I didn’t need her knowing what made me come like a geyser when I masturbated, too.

“Was she there as part of a company table, or did she buy a solo ticket?”

I hesitated before admitting, “She was working the event.”

My assistant groaned. “Miles. Come on, my guy. The bar is on the floor with you. Why can’t you be happy with the social climbers and WASPS your mother throws at you? Why do you have to hit on staff while they’re working? I should spray youwith the spritz bottle like I do Buck when he barks at the courier.”

“Trust me, I didn’t start it—” I stopped, unsure I could honestly say that. “Maybe I did. But make no mistake, she was an enthusiastic participant.”

A fucking delicious one too.

“I’m amazed she didn’t get fired for flirting with a guest in the middle of the party.”

“We were in the bathroom.”

I let Sadie think that was because I’d politely excused us, instead of wandering into the bathroom and cracking on with the first woman I found there.

Why the hell would someone hide a hottie like her in the bathroom, anyway? You were supposed to put the sexy people on the door to greet people, or give them champagne so they could parade around the room and be admired. I knew fuck all about organising events but I’d been to enough of them to know that. Everyone knew that.

Sadie was shaking her head. “I have no idea what women see in you.”

“I’m rich and good-looking.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not the slam dunk you think it is. If you were this much of an a-holeandbroke and ugly, you’d never get laid. You’d have to actually cultivate a personality. Like me.”

“Sadie, talking to you is like scratching an itch with a cheese grater.”

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