When in Rome... Read Online Free PDF Page A

an investment banker?”
    Mike rolls his eyes and sits back in his chair. “An entrepreneur, my dear. I am the owner of London’s coolest new record label and club promotions company.”
    Bastard. Only Mike could make serious money and be doing something really cool. I better not tell David.
    “And you’re actually staying solvent?”
    “What do you think?”
    The waiter comes over and refills our glasses. We order some food—I choose octopus salad to start, followed by the chicken. I’d actually prefer the sole, but I don’t want to look like I’m listening to Mike’s advice. When the waiter leaves we’re silent for a while.
    “So how are things with David?”
    Does he really want to know or is he teasing me? I decide to play it straight.
    “Actually, things couldn’t be better. He’s gorgeous. We’re really happy.” All of which is true, but for some reason I’m turning red again and my face is twisting into a stupid smile. Mike sits back in his chair.
    “Never really saw the two of you together. Thought you could do better than an accountant. But if it works for you . . .”
    How does he do that? Make an insult sound like a compliment, so that when you get angry it looks like you’re overreacting. The thing is, he’s got a point. I never saw myself ending up with an accountant either. It doesn’t really sit with my image of myself as a girl-about-town. But there’s no way I’m going to let Mike think he’s hit a sore point.
    “Look,” I say defensively, noticing that the restaurant is getting very hot. “You have no right to say anything about David, or to ask about us being together. You left, remember, and you didn’t even have the guts to tell me to my face. You are a pig and an idiot, and I don’t know why I’m even here.” My voice has taken on a slightly squeaky tone, so I stop talking and give him one of my best “I am really far too busy for this conversation” looks.
    But Mike grins again like he’s pleased with himself for getting a rise out of me, and before I can stop myself my lips start curling upward. God, he’s sexy. I mean, obviously he’s a total bastard, but the two aren’t mutually exclusive, are they? I make myself look cross with him. The last thing I want is for him to realize that I still think he’s utterly gorgeous.
    The food arrives and I gratefully start to eat. Actually it’s delicious. I love restaurant food. I would eat out every day and every night if I could. And when I couldn’t be bothered to go out, I’d order in. I have friends who are great cooks, but all that chopping and marinating is just so boring, especially as nothing I cook ever turns out like it should. I’m only interested in the Jamie Oliver–style chuck-it-in-a-pan-and-hope-for-the-best cooking, but whenever I’ve tried chucking it all in, I end up with some sort of hideous, tasteless muck. I blame my mother, of course. She doesn’t cook either, except for souffle. I think she figured that as no one else can do a good souffle, it was something worth working at. Everything else she leaves to Marks & Spencer’s or Harrod’s Food Hall.
    I look up to see Mike watching me closely. He picks up his glass.
    “To old friends?”
    I hesitate. Am I really ready to forgive and forget?
    “Look Georgie, I’m sorry, okay? You’re right. I was a total prick. Can’t we be friends again?”
    Put like that I can’t really say no, can I? I mean, he’s admitted that he’s wrong and he’s even apologized. I pick up my glass, and as I take a sip Mike winks at me.
    “You seem really happy. Life with an accountant obviously agrees with you. Do you think David will mind us being friends?”
    “Of course David won’t mind,” I say, maybe a bit too quickly. Mike drains his glass.
    “Well, I think we’ll be needing some more champagne then!”
    I consider pointing out that I’ve barely started my first glass, but I don’t want to appear churlish. And anyway, if Mike wants to spend money on champagne, who am I to stop him?
    I empty my glass as quickly as I can and