Jess raises an eyebrow. “Radical.”
“I like to keep you on your toes.”
She grins, taps her tablet, and heads for the door. “Well, let’s see if one of these two unicorns is up to the job. God help them.”
Jess has barely left my office when the door swings open without a knock.
“Word is you told the government to piss off. Again.” Jasper laughs.
I don’t bother looking up. “Takes them longer to write a bloody memo than it does for that to get round.”
He drops into the chair opposite mine, casual as you like. Jasper’s got that kind of presence. No urgency, no chaos, just calm. Always has. He’s eight years older than me, but that gap’s never felt like a divide. If anything, it’s been a bloody advantage. He’s the reason I even got my invention off the ground. Took a chance on me when noone else gave a toss. Invested when all I had was a scribble on a napkin and too much caffeine in my system.
Over time, the business partnership turned into something more. Mentor, friend… he’s one of the only people who’ll tell me I’m being a stubborn arse and get away with it.
“They wanted the SRT valve?” he asks, though he already knows.
“For free.”
He lets out a low laugh. “Public service and all that?”
“Apparently.”
He leans back, eyes on me, reading more than I’m saying. He does that. I used to find it annoying. Now I’m just used to it.
“Still on for the move?”
“Yeah. Movers are booked for Friday.”
“And Jess?”
“She’s staying with the company, but she made it very clear she has no desire to commute to Kent five days a week. Not even for the best boss ever—” Jasper snorts at that. I know I can be tough, but Jess and I had a system, and it’ll be hard having someone new looking after me. “She’ll work more closely with Luciana now,” I add.
“New PA then?”
“Yeah, I’m interviewing two candidates tomorrow.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What, two total?”
“That’s the list.”
“Blimey. What’s wrong with village life, eh?”
I shrug. “Apparently not enough Pret and too many tractors.”
He grins. “You’ll terrify them first day. Show up all sharp edges and military efficiency.”
“They’ll manage.”
He watches me a beat longer. Doesn’t say anything straight away. Then, “You think this’ll help? Getting out of London?”
“I don’t know. But staying here’s not helping either.”
He nods. “You’ve been running full tilt for ten years, mate. You’re allowed to stop.”
“I’m not stopping. Just… changing pace.”
“Right,” he says, smirking. “Changing pace. Into a converted barn with underfloor heating and a wine fridge.”
