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hadn’t been time. She handed the packet to the runner she’d brought with her, and he took it and left.
    “Want to grab a bite?” Henry asked. “I’m hungry.”
    “Sounds good.”
    He led the way out of the club. “Do you have a car?”
    “No. I take the underground mostly. Congestion charges and parking are outrageous,” she said.
    “That they are. There’s a congestion charge around my neighborhood. I have to pay to drive home.” Traffic was a major problem in some London areas, so a charge had been introduced to ease traffic flow during certain hours.
    “Not many days,” she said. “I hear you get home in the wee hours of the morning.”
    He chuckled. “That’s true. But if I kept respectable hours I’d have to pay.”
    “You do now with the job,” she said.
    “That’s true,” he said. “What about you?”
    “What do you mean?” she asked.
    “Is this job keeping you respectable?”
    She had no idea what Henry was after with his questions. The valet brought his car around and after she was seated in the Ferrari Enzo, Henry put the car in gear. He drove with confidence and skill, negotiating the traffic with ease. She couldn’t help but admire the way that he drove. She was beginning to believe there was little that Henry didn’t do well.
    “Of course it is.”
    “Did your last job, working for Mo Rollins’s group, do the same?”
    She had a sinking feeling that he’d checked her employment record. Had he found out about her affair? Bethann had suggested to her before she’d taken this job at Everest Records that she should work in another industry, but the record industry was all she knew.
    “I took that job really seriously, Henry. I was a good employee and supported Daniel in every way I could.”
    “But he still let you go,” Henry said.
    “I had a health issue,” she said. This was a nightmare, she thought. When she’d been in the throes of her affair with Daniel it had never occurred to her that someday she’d be answering questions about why she no longer worked for him.
    Henry braked to a stop as they neared Kensington High Street. She knew he planned to check out Roof Gardens, the eclectic nightclub owned by Richard Branson, tonight.
    “Babylon okay for dinner?” he asked.
    “Yes.” She’d never eaten at the trendy high-priced restaurant before. When she’d been with Daniel, even when they’d been dating, they had tended to stay more to economical places. Daniel only spent money on his clients.
    Henry pulled up to the valet stand and got out. Astrid climbed out on her side and wished for a moment she’d taken time to dress a bit differently for her day. She was already realizing that Henry was different. That didn’t mean he would treat her better than Daniel had. This was a job, she thought. Nothing more . The measure of the man she worked for was better than her previous boss. And she knew she was going to have to change and probably grow a bit to keep up with him. She shifted the strap of her large shoulder bag and hurried around to the sidewalk so she was next to him.
    There were a few paps—paparazzi—who took some photos of Henry. She stepped back so he could be photographed alone. He posed and talked to the photographers and signed a few autographs before reaching for her hand and drawing her up the path to the entrance.
    She knew that Henry hadn’t finished questioning her about her past and Daniel. She also decided if she played her cards right, she could keep him off the topic tonight.
    “Does that happen to you often?” she asked when they checked their coats downstairs.
    He smiled ruefully. “Yes. I’m used to it, though. My mum says that it’s part of our life being in the spotlight. I grew up around it. I don’t court them, but if they want a photo I give them one.”
    “Isn’t it intrusive?” she asked.
    He stopped and pulled her toward a quiet corner. “It’s my life. I don’t think about it. When I was a player, I didn’t like them