‘Milo, hello. Cool night, right?’ she replied, trying very hard not to slur her words.
‘Okay! I see someone has had a few drinks.’
‘You’re a few drinks.’
He laughed. ‘I’m pleased you’re still here.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I wanted to hang out with you.’
‘Well, I’m very busy.’ She gestured around her with both hands. ‘Lots going on here.’
‘I can see that.’
She shuddered as the warmth of his hand rested on her bare back.
‘Have you had fun?’ he asked.
‘I have.’ Rose told him about some of the stories she’d heard. Milo laughed, particularly at the one about the fashion designer.
‘I made the mistake of going on a few dates with her once.’
‘Did she ask you what to wear to a pub?’
‘No, but she did ask me to sign an NDA.’
‘What? Seriously?’ Rose had been made to write up non-disclosure agreements at work by particularly high maintenance celebrity publicists. The idea of a person forcing someone like Milo to sign one was too absurd to even contemplate unless that person was Beyoncé.
‘Seriously.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know, to be honest. I gave it to my lawyer, he said it was ridiculous and I didn’t see her again.’
‘Have you ever given anyone an NDA?’
‘No. That would be fucking weird.’
‘Agreed. Was she as awful as she seems?’
‘She mainly spoke about herself and how much money her business was making,’ he said, sighing. ‘She had an actual app on her phone that pinged ker-ching and flashed with dollar signs every time she sold something. So yes: awful.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘How sober are you feeling then?’
‘Oh, very,’ said Rose, hiccupping on cue.
‘How many of those have you had?’ he asked, pointing to the negroni Rose had nearly finished.
‘Quite a few, actually,’ she hiccupped again. ‘They really are delicious.’
‘Come on, let’s get you home.’
Rose mumbled something about not wanting to be a mystery brunette in the morning as she followed him to the lifts. Thankfully, he ignored this.
They walked out of the lift into yet another dark underground car park.
‘Is this the part where you kill me?’ Rose asked.
‘Ha, no not quite. Don’t think I’m cut out for prison.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. Your fancy lawyers would definitely get you acquitted.’
‘Let’s just get you home, shall we? Then we can discuss the criminal justice system as much as you like.’
His hand was on her back again.
‘Hi, Ralph,’ Milo said to a man in a black suit standing in front of yet another car.
‘Hi, Ralph!’ Rose aped.
Soon, they were strapped into seat belts and sitting side by side in a different set of warm seats. There were miniature bottles of Evian positioned in cup-holders beside each of them. Rose opened hers and finished it in seconds. Milo swiftly handed her his. She finished that one too.
‘So you live in south London?’ he asked.
‘Yes, in a very nice flat I pay very little for that often smells like weed,’ she replied, feeling slightly more sober now that she’d consumed something non-alcoholic.
