The Collector | 18+

【08】Not Consciously

Unsurprisingly, the thought of Ulrik Westergaard remained with me for the rest of the day. I struggled to focus, constantly reminded of him, his masculine, clean, and expensive scent, and of those damned half-smiles.

Even hours later, as I clung to the bar in the subway on my way back home, it was him on my mind.

Ugh, the audacity of this man... How dare he occupy my thoughts like this.

I was reminded of the fact that I'd barely slept the night before as soon as I passed the door. The excitement of the day had faded, and in the safe confines of my home, I was able to relax enough to notice just how tired I was. Per usual, I was swarmed with cats right away, purring balls of fur begging for a treat, a caress, or even just some attention.

"Hey, babies! Did you miss me?" Their enthusiastic responses came through multiple meows. "Gigi, I'm home!"

"I'm here!"

Once my jacket was hanging on the rack and my shoes were off, I made my way out of the small entrance hallway and into our living room. She was there, doing her evening routine. She'd changed, and was wearing pink denim short overalls, with a blue bralette underneath. Her hair was loose, and as always when she'd worn it up all day, it had a lot of volume—to the point where it looked chaotic. But it didn't matter, as only I would see her this way, looking like a lunatic as she watered her plants.

If my obsessions were Vikings and cats, hers were cooking and plants. Our place looked like a greenhouse on steroids, with tropical greenery on every available surface. I didn't mind it at all, though. It looked beautiful, and it brightened our small apartment. In here, one might forget that we were in the heart of gloomy and cloudy London.

I went to the kitchen counter to retrieve the metal box where we kept the cat food, before moving to the four bowls settled under a window. The furry gang followed me closely, making me trip a few times.

"How was your day?" she asked, moving on to another shelf of potted greens.

"Eh, it was okay. I thought I'd come home later, but I couldn't focus."

"Does it have anything to do with that yummy man from lunch?"

I gritted my teeth, knowing this was to be expected. "It was honestly just a work lunch, Gigi."

"Oh, please... You two were shagging each other with your eyes when I arrived. That's why I thought it was a date you'd squeezed in your noon break."

"We weren't...eye-shagging."

"Oh, you were practically drooling, sweets. And him too. But woof, who wouldn't? He is dashing."

Instead of saying anything, I filled the last bowl and made sure each cat was in position. "I almost forgot!" I said. "Someone messaged me on Facebook this morning. She's interested in adopting Slim, but she'd like to see him first."

"Brilliant. One less spawn of Satan to feed."

"Come on, Slim Shady is the second nicest one," I protested, squatting to pet the black and white cat in question.

"They are all nice to you, and they all ignore me."

"Not Simone."

"True. Which is why we're keeping Madame de Beauvoir with us. Now, don't think I didn't notice you tried to switch topics, you clever girl. Tell me more about that blond piece of arse you got yourself."

With a groan, I went to the couch and dropped on it, my head on the soft armrest and my sock-clad feet hanging from the other one. "So, who is he?" Gigi insisted.