Love to Hate You by Anna Premoli Page B

mystery girl, who sources claim is not part of the count's usual circle of friends—’ Dear God, deliver me,” I comment, then go on reading. “'… unlike the count's usual conquests, his new flame is no extravagant beauty, but it’s clear that the hunky young aristocrat has deep feelings for her—’”
    At these words, I burst out laughing. A loud, not very refined laugh.
    â€œWhat?” asks Ian, sounding annoyed.
    â€œThey say you were looking at me with dreamy eyes—” and I start laughing out loud. I guess that girls don't usually behave so ungracefully around him. Ian carries on reading, trying not to let me distract him. “Well anyway, there’s nothing compromising in the article,” he says, once he's finished.
    â€œOf course not – the only compromising thing they could have seen would have been an argument,” I remind him, trying to sound serious.
    â€œI wouldn't have thought it, but luckily—” he agrees cryptically.
    â€œI'd have preferred not to appear in the newspaper at all. You know, I've got my career and my credibility to think about, unlike the girls you usually date,” I say.
    â€œI don’t
date
them,” Ian says back. “We go out to dinner every once in a while. Anyway, I’m single—”
    I lift my hand to cut him off. “I don’t care who you go out with and what you do. That's your business. The only annoying thing is that even a bloody work meeting with you turns into news.”
    â€œDo you see what I’m up against, now?” he asks.
    I look at him seriously. “Don't you understand that it’s your own fault if you end up in situations like that? After crying wolf so many times, nobody believes you any more.”
    â€œOh, of course, Miss Perfect bloody Girlfriend, Miss bloody living-together,” he says angrily. I've obviously hit him where it hurts.
    â€œI’ve never 'lived together' with anyone,” I retort.
    â€œExactly!” he snaps, folding his arms across his chest.
    â€œAnyway, this time it was nothing serious. Just the Sunday papers,” I say out loud in an effort to convince myself.
    â€œSo the
Sun
is just the Sunday papers to you? That picture's in colour and they've splashed it over half a page, if you hadn't noticed,” he insists, showing it to me again. Hang on, whose side is he on?
    â€œClose that bloody paper,” I exclaim, starting to lose my cool. “In fact, why don’t you throw it away?”
    I rip it out of his hands, crumple it up into a ball and throw it into the bin by the door. Amazingly, I don't miss.
    â€œAnyway, there's one good thing about all this,” he says seriously.
    â€œWhich is?”
    â€œElizabeth must have fallen for it, so she'll probably leave me in peace now.” The idea actually cheers him up, for God's sake.
    â€œGreat! Offending our client’s daughter – brilliant move… Wish I'd thought of it myself,” I say sarcastically. Elizabeth is a pain in the neck, but there's no need for Ian to know I agree with him.
    â€œYes, I definitely should have thought of it sooner!” the young lord exclaims, completely ignoring my wisecrack.
    â€œOh, please—” I say, trying to bring him back to reality. I stand up, about to leave the room.
    â€œAnd now that that's sorted, I'd like to talk to Beverly about work. We’ve already wasted enough time,” I say solemnly.
    Ian decides to follow me. “I never thought I’d say these words, but for once, you're right.”
    And he opens the door.
    *
    A few hours later, Beverly is saying goodbye to us with satisfaction as we climb into the car, to head first to Edinburgh and then back to London. Surprisingly, we managed to get a good couple of hours' work in before Elizabeth somehow managed to manoeuvre us back into banal, shallow conversation.
    Beverly was happy with our proposals and with a bit of luck