It was only when she emerged from the en-suite, enveloped in a steam cloud that'd probably do the fine silk of her robe no good at all, that Kit caught sight of him. Henry looked tired, naturally. But there was something else too, a thing she hadn't seen on him before. Usually, he was pristinely collected, unruffled to the extreme. Now through, there was a distinct air of the fraught about him.

Time was that would be something she could use to her advantage, a wee nugget to store away and keep to only use at the optimum moment. And perhaps she might still do that. Perhaps.

But right at that second, she merely walked over and stood in front of where he sat, to greet him by his new moniker as if last nights events never even happened.

Hmmm lemme just

“Darling! You’re here already and I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you”.

To a lot, in fact all other people, the words would have been merely a gracious platitude - not meant and certainly not considered before she said them. Nonetheless, to the woman now stood in front of her, they were actually genuine. This was the one meeting she had been looking forward to that day.

In spite of the fact that she'd only slept for about three hours the previous night, she arrived back at the club looking every inch as perfect as always. Kit never let a late night and busy impact her appearance, to do so would be unprofessional and might be seen as a weakness to others. Besides, the business she had to do today was with someone she actually cared about making a good impression on - and that didn't happen often.

She did not know how it happened - one would think the last six months of baby-kissing, glad-handing, PR showmanship beyond excellence and charity endeavors would’ve guaranteed her continued popularity. But no….she was scoring in the latest polls a full seven points lower and even though she knew full well that by rights, it should be zero (what the public doesn’t know, never hurts them!), it bothered her. So much, that her first response to hearing the news was to toss an antique crystal tumbler full of Stoli Elit, directly at the Head of her Public Relations Team. He ducked and her shot missed, but only just.

“How the fuck did this happen? I paid you, very generously I might add, to ensure that my image was kept pristine! And yet, all those awful events I had to go to, the human detritus I had to endure with their banal tales of woe and misfortune and now………bloody Diane Abbot is three points above me? You are so fucking fired Rupert!”.

“It’s……it’s maybe that you’re still single Ms Prince?” the near-cowering man ventured. “You know that unmarried women, even widows, are still something of an unknown quantity, in the eyes of Joe Public I mean”.

“You’re suggesting I marry?” she enquired, a cold glint of darkest black in her usually brown eyes.

“For your career, yes”.

“And who the hell do you consider this extremely lucky man should be?”.

“There is one……..fellow politician, same party allegiance, well respected. Not even that bad looking to be honest. Considered something of a powerhouse of the front benchers, though has a reputation for being a hardarse. But I’m sure you can manage him just fine” Rupert sneered back at her, the grease in his words only matched by his overly oily complexion.

She reached out, extending perfect manicured fingers to the keyboard, poised and ready for the hunt.

“Name?”.

A pause here, Rupert holding his breath for added cache at his brilliance for coming up with this plan. “Henry Leon, ma’am”.

He had to be kidding, surely. Leon wasn't just anyone. His name was very much in the running for the top job, one day. There laid heat and notoriety. She was happy being 'rank and file', flying under the radar while courting media when it suited.

Plus Leon, she knew, was ex-SIS. Having a man with those sort of skills around her could become problematic if he became curious over her 'business interests'. At the same time, if he was of the same bent as she, they could prove invaluable. One never knew when entering a new association, just what you might get with a potential partner. Hmmm, there was a lot to consider here.

A 'sounding out' session couldn't hurt.

“Arrange a meeting - Friday evening, here. Make sure we have a plentiful stock of Laphorig, Hennesey, Belvedere and Krug - surely there will be something there to tempt him. Then order canapes from Fortnum’s and book me a full body waxing appointment at 8am that same morning!”.

Kit had been very much emphasising for the past eleven days that this was not a 'date'. What it was however, was two people who'd been invited to the same function 'plus one', deciding to forego asking another person and instead, choosing to accompany the other there. The fact that they'd spent the preceeding afternoon in bed with each other, then showered and got ready together, was simply here nor there, as far as she was concerned. And even though they sat in the back of the chauffeur-driven limosine on the way to said event, arms and legs entwined as they kissed and giggled like a couple of drunk high school prom-goer's, once they exited the car to the repeating flash of what seemed like a thousand paparazzi camera's, her expression was back to 'all business', walking side-by-side with Dr William Harrison and telling anyone who asked that they were simply friendly colleagues.

Still, the night had gone well, their facade kept up even though she'd given into the urge to slip her hand all the way up his thigh under the table during the dessert course, taking a firm hold between his legs and squeezing hard and sharp, just to remind him that she could. And now that dinner was over and the hoi-polloi were filtering out, Kit knew it wouldn't be too much longer until they were wrapped up in each other again. And yet, she wanted to teaste him, just that smidge longer. That being the case, she dismissed the driver, insisting that they would walk the few blocks back to her penthouse instead.

Opening the door only the slightest amount to begin with, she looked him up, the down, then up. Next she fixed on the most charming and bright smile as the crack of the door was widened. "Mr Blackwood, how very lovely of you to get here so fast. I'm already assured this will be a mutually satisfactory arrangement. Please do come through......". Kit spoke politely, with perfect intonation and diction, and not as if her vintage Chanel suit in the most formerly pristine winter-white, wasn't now splattered with red.