Page 104 of So Wild

“Nice,” Sam corrected. “Nice and straight-edged—which isn’t a bad thing at all. It’s just not a thing Tabby knows to leave alone. She’ll wreak your head, mate.”

Toby ignored her, pointing toward a huge glass building. “That’s work.”

Sam watched the well-dressed men and women scurrying about with corporate purpose, wondering how many of them had ink beneath their Country Road skirts and Armani suits. Not many, she bet. Even during their most faux-rebellious phases, true blue-blood yuppies avoided the needle.

“We’re on the thirty-first floor,” Toby said apologetically, steering her toward a glass and chrome lift. Sam noticed his voice had changed, gone smoother. He was also walking with his shoulders back, making him seem about a foot taller. The elevator opened as they approached and everyone inside it eyeballed her as though she’d grown a second head. As soon as the doors closed, she turned to Toby. “What’s wrong? Are you not supposed to bring guests?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“It’s your…well.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve got a lot of tattoos and there’s kind of a dress code…”

Sam looked down at herself. It had been a nice morning and she hadn’t brought a jacket. The vines, the kitten, the cherry blossoms adorning her arms and shoulders stood out stark against her skin. Fucking hell, she’d been in Brunswick too long, hanging out with Noah and Gil and the similarly tattooed. This was a cleanskin paradise and she stuck out like a sore thumb. The elevator dinged, announcing Scott’s floor. Sam’s gut contracted. “Fuck, I didn’t even think about a dress code. Maybe I should go?”

“If you do, will you keep the pups?” Toby asked hopefully.

No, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Even her old man wouldn’t have let six half-spaniel, half-Rottweiler puppies run wild in their courtyard. She would have to see Scott in his natural element, besuited and sitting behind a big desk.

“Show me where he is,” she told Toby.

As Toby steered her around the desks, Sam felt the otherness of her ink more acutely than she had in years. All the women in his office were dressed various forms of grey, cream and pink. Why hadn’t she worn something other than black jeans and a tattered Chronic Masterbaters t-shirt?

Scott wasn’t in his office and they retreated back into the pastel pen.

Toby scanned the room. “Don’t worry, if he’s not here and he’s not in a meeting, he’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Show me.”

Scott was in the small, staff kitchen washing a mug in the sink. Her stomach dropped like an elevator capsule. God, he looked good, slick and smooth, the day having not yet put wrinkles in his suit and ruffles in his hair. She’d planned to let Toby announce she was here but she couldn’t stop herself from walking up and wrapping her hands around his middle. “Hey, Galahad.”

“Samantha!” Scott sounded alarmed and amazed. He turned and pulled her into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Emergency visit.”

He grinned in the way that made his eyes crinkle adorably. “In the staff kitchen?”

“Obviously. Was that Marvin the Martian I saw on your mu—”

He kissed her in that perfect Scott Sanderson way, warm and deep and soft, but nottoo soft. She melted against him, forgetting everything except that he was here with her. It was all okay. It was all fine. Scott would take care of this. Scott would know what to do about the puppies, and even if he didn’t, everything would still be fine because he would be there.

Toby gave a loud fake cough. “Mr Sanderson, I think you should—”

The warning came too late. She and Scott were still hugging each other when a woman’s voice cut through the moment like a knife. “Scott? What is going on?”

Sam turned to see a handsome woman in a liquid black pantsuit. Her expression was drawn, her lips tight. Fucking hell, fifty million dollars said this was Scott’s boss. Feeling panicked, she held out a hand. “Hello, I’m Sam DaSilva.”

The woman stared at her tattooed forearm as though it were a poisonous viper. “What brings you to our building?”

“She’s here to see me,” Scott said quickly. “I apologise, Martha, I know this is unprofessional.”

“It is,” she said with a sniff. “I need a word. Can we go to your office?”

“Sure. Sam, can you stick with Toby for a little bit?”

She didn’t get a chance to say ‘okay.’ Scott and his boss were already leaving, abandoning her and Toby in the midst of an awkward silence.

“Sorry, that’s one of the big bosses, Martha Clarke-Oscar,” Toby said. “Want to see my desk? It’s right outside Scott’s office, so you’ll be able to see when he’s free.”

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