Tim's squeal of delight was music to my ears. He'd been so quiet with me, so closed off. I wanted to find a way to connect with him, to make him understand that I was not the enemy. I had pondered for an age what to do for Valentine's day and Martin had found me in my office with my head down on the desk.

"What seems to be the problem, old boy," he asked, leaning on the corner of the desk and giving me a quizzical look.

"I'm fine," I said, not wanting him to pry into things but knowing he would.

"Relationship woes?"

"No, not really. Sort of," I finished lamely.

I didn't feel worried about opening up to Martin, he wasn't judgmental like most people and he had no problem with my 'relationship woes' involving other men. He just took me for what I was, occasionally using me as something to ponder over and write something lyrical about me being some sort of contradiction or a mysterious soul. He meant well so I let him have his moments.

"I was just thinking about Valentine's day," I told him and he gave an understanding 'Ah'.

"I see," he laughed. "The eternal question, flowers or chocolates. Always buy both," he said in mock severity.

"He does like food," I laughed, imagining how Tim would be home right now, staring petulantly at the cupboard, complaining about the lack of food but never going out to hunt for himself. Clearly I was the alpha male who provided the kill while he sat around looking pretty.

"I could get him a book," I suggested hopefully and Martin rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure that will get his heart racing," he said dryly. Isabel had told me I had awful taste. I could ask her to pick something but somehow that left me with a cold feeling inside. Her buying something romantic and thoughtful for my boyfriend, his delighted smile when he opened it and gazed at it in its perfection.

"Ivo, are you alright?" Martin snapped me out of my inner battle and I noticed I had been clutching my pen tighter.

"What do you love doing together," he asked trying to be helpful. I gave him an awkward glance and he seemed to understand.

"Ah, right," he chuckled. "Young love and all that. Well I'm sure there are a number of establishments that cater for that sort of romantic interest," he said with a dead pan expression and I couldn't contain my laughter at his professional manner.

"No Martin," I scolded him.

"Take him somewhere nice, make it a surprise. Something whimsical and impulsive and he is sure to be blown away," he winked at me and I stared at him, half bemused and half repulsed by his innuendos.

"You like it?"

"Oh Ivo I love it," Tim sighed happily, stretching back on the double bed of our five star hotel room. He bounced back up to look out the window at the London skyline. It was beautiful as it twinkled merrily and I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him close, breathing in the smell of him.

"It's perfect," he said boyishly, his excitement infectious.

He turned to face me, sliding his own arms around me. He kissed me softly on the lips.

"Fuck me, Ivo," he whispered, catching me off guard. He wasn't usually so forward but I wasn't about to complain. The look in his eyes was intoxicating. It was something I hadn't realised I had waited a lifetime for until now.