Free Denying Mr. Parks (The Parks #1) by Lilly James Page B

wide-eyed whilst her smirk sank at the realisation of what she’d just said.
    “Ignore that. I’ll call the takeaway.”
    Yes, we shared everything, but her telling me to fuck her brother was something I didn’t want her to share.

 
    Chapter Eight
     
    My alarm woke me up that morning, and I did my usual routine of cursing with how much I hated it and begrudgingly crawled out of bed.
    After my shower, I straightened my hair. On a Wednesday. Brushed my light olive skin with bronzing powder, combed my lashes with mascara, and swiped my lips with gloss. I threw on black-lace underwear, pulled black stockings up my legs, and changed into a black pencil skirt, a grey silk blouse, and a black blazer that turned up at the sleeves.
    I walked into the office on time that day, and Clarke took his black, thick-rimmed glasses off when he spotted me. “Well I’ll be damned. Evey, it’s Wednesday and you’ve got your hair down.” Was it that much of a big deal? He bumped shoulders with me when I sat at my desk next to his. “I hope this isn’t a show for Mr. Parks, my girl.”
    I made a point of expressing disgust. “No.” He was being absurd. I fancied a change. That’s all.
    “Jolly good. Handsome is away for the rest of the week, regardless.”
    I glanced sidewards, pretending not to care. He was away? Shit. I forgot. Oh well, I wasn’t bothered. But then wearing my hair down seemed pointless.
    “I am wondering why he is prolonging his stay in this department.”
    While I turned on my desktop and signed into my files, I shrugged coyly. “Maybe he has a lot to get through.”
    Placing his glasses back on, Clarke shifted his weight to face me. “Evey, it doesn’t take all week to run checks at our firm. This whole building and the companies in it belong to him. Normally he stays in this office maybe one hour, two at the most, and that’s only to check in with his employees. It’s the same with the other companies in this building. Then, to my knowledge, he will spend the rest of his stay in his own office, or at meetings and conferences. The only times we ever get to meet with him is when he insists on individual meetings, or at our society dinner. So to be here, at this very company, for almost a week, is extremely peculiar.”
    His desk phone rang, pulling his inquisitive eyes away from me. Thankfully. I softly exhaled in relief.
    Clarke answered the telephone with his full-on posh, Chelsea accent. “Parks Law Firm, Clarke Muriel speaking…Oh, hello, Pumpkin—”
    I swivelled in my chair to look at him. Pumpkin?
    “My wife,” he mouthed.
    Pumpkin? I laughed again, gaining Clarke’s attention. His eyes were warning me to be quiet, so I turned my head and began typing with a smirk.
    When he put the phone down he glared at me. “What on earth are you laughing at?”
    I snickered again. “You actually call your wife Pumpkin?”
    I thought I saw his cheeks burn red, but he hid himself behind his computer screen.
    “It’s what I have always called her,” he mumbled.
    Then I felt bad. “Clarke, I’m joking. It’s kind of cute.” Erh. Did I really just say that? I may have puked in my own mouth.
    “Stop it, Evey.”
    I gasped. “What have I done now?”
    He shifted in his seat. “I can see you smirking.”
    “I said sorry, didn’t I?”
    “Then why are you still smirking?”
    “Why are you getting your head up your arse?”
    “What’s going on?” Oh God. Carla had walked in on our small pumpkin debate with that face she always made where she looked like she just had a whiff of sour milk.
    I looked over at her innocently and crossed my fingers together on the desk. “We were actually discussing the smell of sour milk. Can you relate?” I had to. I couldn’t help myself. Clarke flicked his gaze towards mine and covered his grin with a sheet of paper.
    Carla tried to frown but couldn’t. Botox. “No. I can’t say I can.” Then she swirled on her heel and went back the way she came