Page 13 of Serving the Couturier

The atmosphere between London and me shifted as we were left alone, while the noise of the pub faded into the background. I became solely focused on her, unable to look away from her alluring gaze. The brief silence between us could have been awkward, but it was charged, like the impending arrival of a lightning storm, filling the air with electricity. I had the sudden urge to reach out and touch her hand to see if we’d actually spark.

“Well, this is quite a change from my usual Saturday nights,” I said with a chuckle, trying to ease the suddenly charged energy.

“You mentioned you just arrived in the city,” London said, her voice drawing my gaze back to her. “Are you here for business or pleasure?”

The way she said the word “pleasure” sent a rush of anticipation through me, and I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “I can assure you, it’s all business, but I must admit, the pleasure of your company is a delightful bonus,” I said, smiling at her.

“What kind of business, if you don’t mind me asking?” she asked, leaning in a little closer.

“Not at all,” I replied. “I’m a producer, and my friend Stan is interested in a little show I did back in England.”

“That’s fantastic,” she said.

“It is,” I said, smiling. “But I’m afraid I can’t say much more about it yet. The details are still being worked out.” I changed the subject. “What about you? Are you a native New Yorker?”

She shook her head. “West Coast. From San Ramon, California.”

“So far from home. How did you and your siblings end up in New York?”

“I have many siblings scattered around,” she answered with a grin. “But those in New York came for the same reason I did. Career opportunities.” After a pause, she added, “I’m an actress.”

“That makes sense,” I said, trying to hide my curiosity. “You’re all artists in your own right.”

She smiled. “Not everyone would consider what Carson does to be art,” she said, with a touch of sarcasm.

“Well, I’m not just anyone,” I replied, leaning in closer.

Just then, her phone buzzed, disrupting our moment. “Sorry, I need to check this,” she said, taking out her phone. After glancing at the message, she ignored it.

“Is everything alright?” I asked, hopeful that our evening wouldn’t be cut short.

“Yes, just a friend checking in,” she said, still smiling.

“Oh, I see,” I said, not wanting to hold her back. “I didn’t mean to keep you out so late. I’m sure you have a busy schedule.”

“Not at all,” she replied, her eyes shining. “I’m having a great time. How about you? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely,” I said, feeling my pulse quicken. “I can’t remember the last time I had such a delightful conversation with a beautiful woman.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said with a laugh.

“I hope it works its magic,” I said, giving her a charming smile.

Her phone buzzed again. “Sorry,” she said, glancing at it, this time typing a quick reply. “It’s my friend Mercedes again. She’s checking in to see how my date went.” At the look of surprise on my face, she chuckled. “Earlier, I was on a blind date that didn’t turn out so well. My date kept excusing himself to go to the restroom, and it was quite obvious he was indulging in something a bit more illicit than a quick wash-up.”

London tapped her nose, and I got the hint. The bloke was snorting cocaine in the loo.

“So, I made my exit and ended up here.”

“Blimey. Does your friend hate you?” I asked with a chuckle.

“At times, I do question it,” London replied with a laugh. “In all seriousness, though, she just wants the best for me.”

“She wants you to find love,” I said.

London shook her head, her eyes sparkling. “She wants me to get laid,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.

“I see,” I said, raising my eyebrows in surprise. “And what about you? What do you want?”

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