Romancing The Billionaire: The Complete Story Page 6

  ‘He’s not a suit model,’ I add.

  ‘Well he looks like one. How do you know he’s not?’ Laura argues.

  ‘Well he could be I suppose. I don’t know much about him apart from the fact he works in an office around here. Oh and he doesn't seem to mind driving through the city on a whim, which makes him unlike most people I know. I do doubt he’s a model though.’

  ‘The posh guy who caught Amy outside the shop last week, do you mean him? My, what a dish he was,’ Gloria says.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Gloria’s husband Ken looks at her.

  ‘Sorry dear, but you don’t see men like that every day.’

  ‘Oh I think I remember now; he was with the stunning red head wasn’t he?’ Ken says with a smile, prompting a serious side eye from Gloria. ‘You know the one with all the curves in all the right places.’

  ‘Yes, thank you Ken. I’m sure that tap in the toilet you were going to take a look at weeks ago is still leaking.’

  ‘I’ll get to it now dear,’ leaving his stool Ken makes his way over to the toilets.

  ‘So, he’s the one who’s been sending her those gifts is he,’ Gloria continues once Ken is out of earshot.

  ‘Yes, isn’t it exciting Gloria?’ Laura replies.

  ‘It is, but I'd say enjoy it while it lasts Amy. They don’t stay keen for long,’ Gloria looks over at Ken as he hikes his belt up and scratches his behind. ‘What times he picking you up?’

  ‘Five o’clock, or there about.’

  ‘Well you’d better get a move on then, it’s gone five now. He might think you’re not coming.’

  ‘What?’ I spin around to look at the clock and she’s right. I’ve been so busy chatting away that I forgot about the time. Speeding towards the tearoom, I fling the door open and almost hit Richard as he approaches from the other side.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, tugging my coat from the back of the door and struggling to get my arms into it as I rush for the exit.

  ‘Amy!’ Gloria calls after me.

  ‘Yes?’ I stop and turn.

  ‘You forgot your apron.’

  ‘What?’ I look down and sure enough my apron is still tied around my waist.

  Slipping my hands around my back, I tug at the ties.

  ‘Give me that, I’ll see to it,’ Laura takes the apron from my hands. ‘You just get out of here.’

  Chapter 15

  Him

  Spotting her on pavement, I pull over to let her know I’m here.

  ‘You came then?’ she approaches the car.

  ‘I said I would, didn’t I?’ I say before getting out of the car, walking around the other side around, and opening the door for her.

  ‘This is pretty flash for driving through London isn’t it?’ She says stepping inside.

  ‘It’s one of my favourite toys. I made a bit more than I was expecting on a deal earlier this year and treated myself to this little run around. I don’t often drive it through the city. I have a driver bring me around in something a bit less conspicuous but I didn’t want to bring him along today, it felt it a bit impersonal. Are you warm enough; I can put the top up if you’re cold?’

  ‘No, no it’s fine. Well things can’t be too bad in your line of work if you can treat yourself to a convertible sport’s car.’

  ‘No they’re not. So where would you like to go? I’ll take you anywhere you like.’

  ‘Well I was heading South East.’

  ‘South of the river it is then. You may have to give me directions when we get that side though, as I’m not familiar with the area. What is it?’ I notice her gaze out across the city.

  ‘It’s nothing I'm just admiring the view.’

  ‘So how long have you lived there then?’

  ‘All my life, what about you, do you live in London?’

  ‘Yes, not far from the office.’

  ‘Gosh that must be expensive, and your family, where are they from.’

  ‘All London based also.’

  She gives me a look as though she’s summing up what I’ve said and it makes her uncomfortable.

  ‘You’ve gone all quiet on me, what’s wrong?’

  ‘I think we’re from different worlds you and I.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So perhaps they are not meant to collide, our worlds that is.’

  ‘Who says?’

  ‘It’s just the way it is.’

  ‘Well we have collided, and by your way of thinking if that wasn't supposed to happen it wouldn't have done.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘See you know I’m right.’

  ‘No, I mean turn right here.’

  ‘Sorry, I turn my indicator on and there’s nothing behind me at the junction so I’m able to make a quick turn.’

  ‘That was pretty nifty.’

  ‘It’s a nifty car.’

  ‘Just pull up here anywhere on the left please.’

  Slowing the car to a halt, I turn off the engine and clip my belt open. Getting out I walk around to her side and open her door for her.

  ‘Thanks,’ she says looking around the street at the net curtains twitching.’

  ‘So when can I see you again then?’

  ‘I'm free at the weekend I'll see you then,’ she replies to my surprise.

  ‘OK. When and where?’

  ‘Pick me up here on Saturday night, around seven.’

  I go to kiss her on the cheek but like a butterfly, she dances away before I can reach her.

  ‘You’re not going to make this easy for me are you?’ I call after her and mid step; she spins back around to face me.

  ‘Of course not,’ smirking she walks backwards. ‘I’m sure that wouldn’t keep you amused for long at all.’

  Chapter 16

  Her

  Hearing my father and Rosie laughing downstairs. I reach for the hairbrush on the window ledge, planning to give my fringe one last go over before I leave and my mouth drops open. Across the road from the little two-bedroomed terrace we live in. In our quite little cul-de-sac, sits a large, silvery-grey, expensive looking car. Someone who appears to be a chauffeur is sitting at the wheel.

  ‘I’m off out now, see you guys later,’ I call out as I flee down the stairs.

  Grabbing my coat on the way, I almost forget to shut the door behind me. Seeing me approach the driver emerges from the car.

  ‘Evening Miss Smith,’ he bows his head as he leans and opens the back car door for me.

  I thank him and step inside as quick as I can before too many of the neighbours see.

  ‘You look nice,’ Crawford smiles at me.

  ‘I do try,’ I say feeling more than a little out of place.

  ‘You do more than try, you succeed.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I lift my hand to the side of my face by the window to hide it.

  ‘If you would Terrence please,’ Crawford addresses the man in the driver’s seat.

  ‘Of course sir.’

  ‘So this is your other car then?’

  ‘Yes this is my other car. I’m sorry if the extra person bothers you. But I’ve taken the liberty of booking us a table and thought it would be prudent to bring my driver for a multitude of reasons. Besides as I said before, it’s rare I drive through the city myself.’

  ‘No, no that’s fine.’

  We drive straight through the centre of London and I see more than one person admiring the car when we slowdown in traffic. Which, although strange at first, starts to feel quite nice after a while. I even catch myself waving to someone at one point, causing myself instant embarrassment. Pulling up outside the restaurant, I begin to feel nervous as it looks so grand.

  ‘Good evening Mr Montgomery, and Madame,’ the maître d behind the counter greets us as we approach

  ‘Good evening Charles’ Crawford replies.

  ‘Your usual table is it.’

  ‘Yes thank you Charles.’

  ‘You have you have a usual?’ I whisper as the maître d leads us to our table. ‘In a place l
ike this? Your line of business must pay pretty well. Either that or you spend a lot of time scouring the Internet for discount codes.’

  The maître d cuts a serious side eye at me at the mention of discount codes and Crawford smiles.

  I pick up a menu and almost begin coughing when I see the price of a starter. ‘I take that back; you must do more than all right. Look I don't mind going somewhere else.’

  He reaches out and places a hand on top of mine. ‘It’s fine Amy.’

  ‘Why fancy seeing you hear this evening old chap,’ the man appearing at our table says.

  I recognise him as the man who crashed into me at the charity auction.

  ‘Good evening Ashby,’ Crawford replies without looking.

  ‘I’m over there with the family; perhaps you’d like to join us?’

  ‘That's fine thank you Ashby, I think we’d prefer to be alone.’

  ‘Yes, that may be for the best,’ Ashby’s eye’s narrow as he looks at me and I notice his top lip lift as though he has a sour taste in his mouth.

  ‘Well if there’s nothing else Ashby. Perhaps you should get back to your family,’ Crawford say’s turning to look straight at Ashby this time.

  ‘Perhaps you’re right. Enjoy the rest of your evenings won’t you…both of you,’ closing his eyes, Ashby bows his head then leaves the table.

  ‘I do apologise for him again,’ Crawford says to me once Ashby is gone.

  ‘That's okay. He may be right; I don't feel that I belong in a place like this.’

  ‘And that's the sort of thing you need to get out of your head. Anyway let's forget about him.’

  The food is perfect. Delicious, melt in your mouth, never tasted anything like it kind of food. But, I’m suffering pangs of guilt thinking about how much every mouthful is worth.

  ‘I’d like to go to the ladies’ room. Would you please point me in the general direction Crawford?’ I ask.

  ‘Of course not a problem. Charles!’ Crawford calls the Maître d.

  ‘There’s no need for that Crawford, just point me in the general direction and I’m sure I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Yes sir,’ Charles has already reached the table.

  ‘Ah Charles, if you would be so kind to show the lady to the rest rooms?’

  ‘Of course,’ the tuxedoed waiter nods his head. ‘If you’d please follow me Madame.’

  ‘This isn’t necessary,’ I say once we’re a few feet from the table. ‘If you would just be kind enough to point the way I’m sure I can find it on my own,’

  ‘'Of course Madame, if you walk to the end of the hall and then turn to your right, you should see the restrooms ahead of you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You're more than welcome Madam.’

  The restrooms are ornate in cream and gold. I’ve never been any anywhere like this before. Sure, I’ve seen places like this in films, but that doesn’t prepare you for the spectacle of it in real like. Leaving the restrooms, I remember the way back to the table and as I approach, I see a slender blonde woman sitting next to Crawford. She's pulled my seat around next to his, and has her arm up resting on his shoulder. I can’t see their faces but they look cosy.’

  ‘They make a gorgeous couple don't they?’ Ashby’s breath is close to my ear. ‘Still, it’s about what you would expect when you pair matching stock.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ I whip my head around, our noses almost touching.

  ‘There’s no need for outrage. Besides, it’s a wasted emotion as there’s nothing at all you can do about it. You just don't belong here.’

  Enraged, I march across the restaurant and head for the table.

  ‘Excuse me, I believe you're sitting in my seat,’ I raise my voice but don’t get a reply.

  She doesn’t even turn her head to acknowledge me. Seeing red, I rip my coat from the back of my chair causing her to lurch towards the table and give a shocked expression.

  ‘You heard that didn’t you,’ I say before storming off towards the door.

  ‘Amy? Amy wait!’ Crawford jumps up and chases after me.

  ‘Forget it, I'm out of here,’ I call without looking back.

  ‘Amy whatever’s wrong?’

  ‘Is there a problem with your meal Madame?’ the maître d' says as I pass the door.

  ‘No problem with the meal, the food was perfect thank you.’

  Crawford catches up behind me as I step out onto the pavement.

  ‘Amy stop, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Go back inside and finish your meal won’t you Crawford, your friend’s right I don't belong here.’

  ‘My friend? Ashby Talbot, is that who you mean? Ashby is more an associate of mine I can assure you. What's he been saying?’

  ‘Nothing that I'm not thinking myself. I tell you what…’ I turn on my heel and cross my arms. ‘I'll just slip away, and you can go back in there and enjoy the rest of your meal with the lady friend you seem to be having so much fun with.’

  ‘Oh, so this is what this is all about then is it, Evangeline Neville is it?’ He pushes his hands into his pockets and rocks on his heels.

  ‘That's her name is it, figures,’ I purse up my lips.

  ‘OK, firstly; you should work on your “slipping away skills” as that’s far from what you’ve done here this evening. Second, if I wished to spend the evening with Evangeline Neville, I would do just that. Instead of suffering humiliation in front of my peers. By what, I might add, stands as a perfect example of a petty, jealousy tantrum. Yet still, for some crazy reason I’m standing here in the street trying to explain myself to you. Well you know what, I’m done. You keep going on about all these other woman, and I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but maybe you’re right. Perhaps I can have any woman I want, or a good chance with one at least. Which is more than I’m beginning to think I have with you. At first, I thought you were just playing hard to get, but now I’m not so sure. I’ve been nothing but respectful to you, I don’t deserve the way you’ve been treating me and I won’t stand for it. You’re more than welcome to a lift home, or I’ll pay for a taxi. You decide,’ taking a step back, he turns towards his car as it pulls up beside him on the kerb.

  A loud thundercloud cracks across the sky and the rain begins to pelt down against the ground. I see him reach out for the car handle and run towards him.

  ‘Crawford wait!’

  Surprised, he turns toward me then puts his arms out to act as a buffer.

  ‘I’m sorry Crawford, I didn’t mean to…I just…’ I struggle to find the words as the rain pours down onto my face and onto my shoulders. It’s a real downpour. My hair's soaked already, and my dress is beginning to stick to my skin as I hold my jacket in my arms.

  ‘Oh Amy. The first time I ever saw you was like this. I saw your face and all I could think about was how you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.’

  ‘You did?’

  Yes, I did, I do. But you keep pushing me away. I like you Amy and all I want is to be around you, is that too hard to believe?’

  The rain has pushed his bold quiff down, transforming it into a bunch of dark-gold curls falling down his forehead. Shaking my head, I scan his face until my gaze locks onto his eyes and I feel as though I might lose myself in green.

  ‘I think you might like me a little bit too,’ he smiles and the moment is too much for me.

  Rising up onto the tips of my toes, I push my lips onto his. Surprised, he kisses me back before pulling his head away to speak.

  ‘Come on, get in. We’ll get you warmed up,’ placing his hand onto the small of my back he opens the car door and guides me inside.

  ‘Home please Terrence,’ he says placing an arm around my shoulders.

  ‘Home?’

  ‘Yes we’ll get you dried and fed. You must be hungry, as you’ve not eaten anything. Don’t worry we’ll be there in a few minutes.’

  Turns out Crawford’s pretty accurate in his estimated arrival time. It's less than five minutes in fact before the c
ar stops somewhere in a swanky part of London.

  ‘I'll let you know when Miss Smith would like to go home Terrence,’ Crawford says before getting out and opening the door for me.

  Taking his hand, I step out onto the pavement. ‘Where’s he going with your car?’

  ‘Relax he’s just going to park it.’

  ‘And where are we going?’

  ‘We are going in here,’ he motions to the steps outside a large building.

  ‘Here?’ I’m confused as this building looks to grand to be a home, a hotel maybe, but not a home.

  Two door attendants in traditional suits, complete with top hats and tails, stand at the bottom on the steps. ‘Evening sir, and Madame,’ they tip their hats as we pass.

  Crawford approaches two security guards inside the main entrance, flashing what I presume is an ID card.

  ‘Good evening sir. If you’d like to proceed,’ the two men motion Crawford inside. ‘If I might just have a feel of your bag Madam?’ The man nearest to me reaches out and I pass him my bag. He gropes around the contents from the outside, then once satisfied, hands it back to me.

  ‘What was that all about?’ I ask as Crawford swipes a card in a slot next to the door and it clicks open.

  ‘It’s just standard procedure for new visitors,’ he holds the door open for me, and my mouth falls open as I pass through.

  ‘I thought you said that we were going to your house?’ Standing on a cold marble floor, I look around the large luxurious hall.

  ‘I said my home and my apartment’s upstairs. We just need to get you signed in first,’ he directs me towards the reception desk at the far end of the hall.

  ‘Good evening Mr Montgomery,’ a man behind the counter says. ‘And good evening Madame,’

  ‘Good evening,’ I reply.

  ‘If Madame would be so kind,’ he pushes a large open guest book in my direction and hands me a fountain pen.

  The ink flows across the cream page and after signing the book, I pass it back to him.

  ‘Thank you Madame. Will sir be requiring any food or beverages this evening?’

  It is a hotel. I knew it. A posh one sure, but that’s to expected in this part of London. I wonder why he’s staying in a hotel?