The Wrong Girl Read Online Free PDF

her desk, and spent her days racing around the set, or roaming the city, or filming celebrities’ houses, or producing lightning-fast renovations.
    â€˜Hey, how was Byron? Did you see that gypsy I recommended?’
    Lily scrunched up her face and exhaled through her nose. ‘
Byron
was amazing.’ She looked around surreptitiously. ‘But then when I got back I hooked up with Pete – don’t make that face – and then he told me he was in love with some girl.’
    â€˜You’re fucking with me.’
    â€˜Nope.’
    â€˜That’s a
total
spin-out. I really thought if he ever got you you’d be married in, like, three minutes.’ Alice, number one fan of love and sex and male-female relations in general, looked genuinely disappointed.
    â€˜Doesn’t matter, I’m on a man-detox now. He gave me the perfect reason to ditch men. Won’t miss them. Simone’s doing it too. We’re each other’s support.’
    Alice burst into laughter. ‘SIMONE? Simone is off men? Oh, now I’ve heard
everything
. She won’t last an
hour
.’
    Alice didn’t get Simone. She thought she was fake and insincere and that Lily could do better.
    â€˜She’ll be fine. I’m excited. Do you even know how much energy men take up, Alice? I guess you wouldn’t, since you meet a new guy effortlessly once a week.’
    â€˜Scuse me, I saw Matt for
ages
.’
    â€˜Ah, yes, the DJ who wore T-shirts of other DJs so that people knew he was a DJ.’
    â€˜He was such a lovely donut, but the DJ lifestyle is not for me. Plus he never had any cash and I could only steal enough quiche from the test kitchen to support us for so long.’
    â€˜So you’ll be a Sally Single with me?’ Lily asked with a smile, knowing full well Alice and single went about as well together as porridge and seaweed.
    â€˜Sure, yeah, whatever.’ Alice began walking back to her desk, turning halfway across the office to say, ‘Hey, have you heard about the new chef?’
    â€˜Let me guess, he’s a good-looking, conceited megalomaniac with six women on the go and a long-suffering wife at home.’
    â€˜Nah, don’t think so. Young. New. A good country boy straight from the pumpkin patch. But sadly, he’s not handsome.’
    Lily started up her computer and shook her head. ‘Don’t care anyway. Not interested.’
    â€˜He is
GODLY
. The bear’s flares. All movie-star baby blues, big hands that could make a house from scratch, a voice like a war general and hair that’s made of pure silk and you just
know
what’s hiding in his pant—’
    â€˜I don’t care if it’s Tom Hardy himself: I’m not interested.’ Lily looked at Alice with a pained look on her face.
    â€˜We’ll see,’ said Alice, in a singsong voice.
    Dale tapped his finger on his mouse. Lily’s co-worker was a small, nervous guy with a penchant for train-driver hats, possibly because he was balding, but more likely because it made him feel less visible and therefore less likely to be forced to converse. He seemed to find the world a largely terrifying place. Lily was ashamed to admit she occasionally intentionally made him squirm, with up to three or four non-work questions in a row. Dale cleared his throat.
    â€˜No TV experience, no. Just restaurant.’
    â€˜
Great
. So we’re supposed to anchor the segment on this guy and he has no TV experience, no cookbook, no website, no hosting role on
My Kitchen Rules
, nothing.’
    Behind Lily the office door opened, and a small woman with short black hair, impressively both flat
and
frizzy, walked in. No one who’d worked at
The Daily
for longer than a day wore anything in the same sartorial area code as Eliza’s knee-length skirts, blouses, flesh-toned pantyhose and blazers.
    She was thirty-five at most, but looked forty. It was her eyebrows, Lily decided. They were