Chapter 8

I stopped outside his door, took a deep breath like I was about to skydive without a parachute, and knocked. No going back now. Not unless I fancied throwing myself down the stairwell. The door swung open almost immediately, leaving me zero time to panic or bolt. There he was—in a suit. A proper one. Not the kind you wear for a Zoom meeting or to make your ex jealous on Instagram, but the sort that whispered "money" and "I don't queue for anything, ever." He looked like he was on his way out. Maybe a date. Probably with someone tall, elegant, and dangerously immune to carbs. Regret made a swift U-turn in my gut, and I took a tiny step back, already rethinking everything. But then he gestured for me to wait. He was on the phone, looking very much like a man who closed deals before breakfast. He held up a hand, mouthed "one second," then pointed inside. I stepped into his flat, trying not to look too nosy while absolutely snooping. It was about the same size and layout as mine, but the v