Page 44 of Surprise Me Tonight
She shifts slightly, angling toward me. “What’s the issue today?”
“They’re sceptical about the system cost. Sustainability’s the buzzword, but no one wants to pay for the plumbing.”
She hums. “So, we make it about optics. Long-term cost savings. Green points.”
I glance at her. She’s only been with us a few days, but she’s already picked up what the company is about. She studies the document we’re planning to hand out during the meeting, every inch the professional. But her knee is close to brushing mine. And neither of us moves.
It’s nearly five by the time we’re back in the car. The sky outside is dimming, London is slipping into its early evening haze, headlights already flickering to life across the city.
I lean my head back against the seat and exhale. Long meeting. Too many voices. Too much back and forth.
But in the end, they gave in.
They always do.
I fought them harder than I probably needed to. It wasn’t just the money. It was the principle. The system’s worth what it’s worth, and I’m not in the business of selling out innovation to some cost-cutting bureaucrat who’s never touched a toolkit.
Stella didn’t say much in the meeting, but she was there. Present. Sharp. She passed me notes when I needed them, nudged my arguments in better directions without saying a word. Just a pen and a margin and her impossibly neat handwriting.
Now she’s beside me, scrolling through her tablet, shoulders tight, face drawn.
She looks exhausted.
And beautiful.
“We should eat,” I say.
She looks up. “Hmm?”
“Dinner. You look like you’re running on caffeine and obligation.”
“I’m fine.”
“Stardust,” I say quietly. “Let me feed you.”
She closes the tablet and rests it on her lap. “We could just grab a sandwich and head back.”
“We could.” I turn my head to look at her. “Or we could have real food. In a place with chairs and cutlery and maybe a drink, if you’re up for it.”
She hesitates. I watch the internal debate play out across her face. The rules. The tension. The long day. Me.
Then she nods, slow and calm. “All right.”
I don’t move straight away. I just watch her. The quiet shift in her posture, the slight squaring of her shoulders like she’s made peace with something. Then I say, “There’sa place I know. Tucked down one of the alleys near the Shard. Old-school Italian. No nonsense, proper food.”
She raises a brow. “That sounds suspiciously like a favourite.”
I shrug. “Might be.”
“Do they know your name when you walk in?”
“No comment.”
She smiles, then glances down at her watch with deliberate flair. “Well then, Mr Wright…” Her voice drops a note, playful. “I should point out, it’s now five past five. I am, very officially, off the clock.”
I let out a low breath, something between amusement and relief, and tug my tie loose. “Right. In that case…”
I lean forward towards the driver. “Change of plan, we are having dinner at a restaurant near the Shard. I'll give directions.”
