by Ellie Hall
Emma slowly opened her eyes and turned to the small porthole window. Will leaned over her shoulder, inhaling her vanilla scent. "That red blip. Do you see it? I think it's Santa, heading back to the North Pole."
She gazed out the window. "Do you mean the light on the end of the plane's wing?"
Nevertheless, he glimpsed the beginning of a smile form on her lips, suggesting he'd eased her fears, at least for the time being. She was quiet though and she continued to tremble beside him.
Will wasn't sure what else to do so he did something he hadn't done in well over a decade. He sang Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. He fumbled over the words a few times but on the second round, Emma joined him and their voices, though far from perfect, echoed through the cabin on the cloudy Christmas afternoon.
Chapter 5
Emma
The reality of Emma's situation came at her slowly like water turning to ice. One moment it was liquid and the next it was solid, hard, and impenetrable. She knew going to London meant flying and she knew that taking off and landing paralyzed her with fear. But what really scared her was falling. There was no one there to catch her. No safety net. She was alone. She'd fallen for Everett and knew how that turned out.
When she'd gone back to the apartment to grab her still-packed suitcases, her sister was out so she'd left a note, promising to call as soon as she landed.
Landing.
In London.
She reviewed the hours that elapsed since she woke up: Penny exposed her ice cream addiction, encouraged her to date twelve guys, and now she was fake-dating one.
A famous one. A rich one. A hot one.
An arrogant one.
A guy who played by his own rules, whose agent was clearly nuts, and who sat across from her humming Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
It was sweet of him to try to pull her out of the spiral of anxiety as she visualized falling through the gray sky to her doom. That didn't change the fact that she sort of hated him, what he stood for, and their new situation. However, it did mean money to erase the past so she could finally move on.
Resolved to go through with it, no matter how absurd, she straightened in her chair.
She was keenly aware of Will's presence. She couldn't deny or ignore how she felt a little fluttering inside as she had every time she saw her high school crush. Emma frowned when she realized that was the last time she'd experienced that inner lift, the butterflies dancing in her belly, and the surge of fizziness throughout her body when she sensed his eyes on her.
"What are you thinking?" His voice was smooth with a British accent yet masculine with a hint of a gravelly undertone.
She realized she'd been staring at him, lost in her thoughts. "I told you no personal questions."
"You could've been thinking about the stock market, politics, or the inner workings of my watch." He shook his wrist. "Nothing too personal."
She rolled her eyes.
Just then, a man wearing a modern tunic-style suit appeared from the back of the plane pushing a cart.
Will twisted in his chair. "Basil, how are you, chap?"
The man with a trim mustache nodded.
"We are doing wonderfully now that you're here." Will rubbed his hands together as Basil removed the cloches from the tops of the plates to reveal steaming potatoes, sausages, and peas.
"I didn't realize anyone else was on the plane with us," Emma stammered. "Thank you," she added as Basil presented the meal.
"We couldn't miss Christmas dinner. I figured since we'll be arriving in the evening and due to the time difference…"
"It was very thoughtful." She couldn't imagine how he'd planned this so quickly given the fact he'd learned they had to go to London on short notice. Starved, she started eating, not giving the conveniences money could buy another thought.
Will lifted his glass of sparkling water. "No wine. Empty calories." He patted the rock solid abs hidden under his shirt by way of explanation. "But I'd like to make a toast. To our alliance."
Emma lifted her glass. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"A business agreement? A pact of sorts."
"Whatever. I just want to get it over with."
They clinked and sipped.
Will hesitated before he took a bite of his potatoes like the words hit a nerve. After a few minutes of awkward silence passed he said, "I'm doing this because I have to clean up my image. What's in it for you?"
"I told you not to ask."
"How can we pretend to be dating and have a conversation if I can't ask questions?"
"There's no one watching us here on the plane."
"But we should practice and get to know each other."
Emma stuffed a heaping mound of mashed potatoes in her mouth.
"I'll start singing Christmas carols again," Will teased.
She already missed her sister and might have enjoyed that, but didn't want to give him the satisfaction. This was a business transaction, as he'd said. Typically, she didn't get chummy and sing during board meetings.
"On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me the cold shoulder and a plate full of peas." He sang and then pointed at her plate. "I see you didn't eat your peas. But you like ice cream and cookies. Good thing there's dessert."
Basil appeared carrying a tray. On a plate in the center was an assortment of cookies: chocolate chip, gingerbread, peanut butter, sugar…
Emma's eyes lit up as Basil set them in front of her. They were still warm. She couldn't resist and plucked a chocolate chip cookie from the top and sang the entire Twelve Days of Christmas song true to her and Penny's agreement, changing a few of the lyrics. "On the first day of Christmas, my nemesis gave to me, a chocolate chip cookie…"
"Nemesis? I thought we were fake dating." He clutched his chest, mock insulted. "A nemesis wouldn't get you cookies from the best bakery in New York City," Will boasted.
"New York City doesn't have its best bakery yet."
"Oh, wait. She speaks. What's this you say? I'm intrigued. Tell me more." Will chuckled.
"My sister, Penny, is the best baker I've ever known and by default, her bakery would be the best. We even conducted a study. She has a baking blog and one summer we tried every single cookie at every single bakery in Manhattan that was worth their dough and reported our findings." Emma took a nibble. The chocolate and butter melted in her mouth.
"Let me guess, Penny's are better," Will asked.
Emma nodded.
"Do you bake too?"
"We share the recipe." Emma took a sugar cookie. "It was our grandmother's."
"So your cookies are just as good as Penny's cookies?"
"I don't aspire to be a baker. I just enjoy baking. She puts her heart and soul into it."
"So modest. She gets the accolades as best cookie baker. I see. What about these cookies? Are they okay?"
Emma shrugged and then took another bite as Will sat there cookie-less. "I guess you'll never know because you're some kind of monster who doesn't eat cookies or desserts."
"Some kind of monster?"
"It's Christmas."
"I have a—"
"A brand to upkeep. I know."
Will stiffened. "Emmaline, you're mistaken if you resent me for having money. I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I've worked for everything I have." He gestured around them. "I certainly wasn't expecting this level of wealth, but it's afforded me opportunities and—"
"Then you decided to throw it all away for a few nights out partying because—?" She left the question hanging there because she sensed he was just as uncomfortable talking about his personal life.
Will sighed. "I see. You think I'm a shallow, selfish, snob who plays by his own rules, who can simply hire an assistant, employ her as his wholesome girlfriend, then whisk off to London at the snap of his fingers and—"
She nodded. "Shallow? Selfish? Snob? Sounds accurate."
He leaned in and inclined his head. "If that's what you think I'll take it as a
personal challenge to prove you wrong. To show you that I'm more than that." His voice was low and his eyes flashed. The words raked across her skin in an intimate way as if he dared her to rise to the occasion and do the same. "If you think I'm shallow, selfish, and a snob then I think you're insecure, afraid, and directionless."
Emma got to her feet and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I'm not insecure, afraid, or directionless. I know who I am and where I'm going. To London. With you." She lifted her chin defiantly.
They faced off, the cookies forgotten between them. Their eyes locked, challenging and intense.
The plane shuttered from turbulence. Emma shrieked and stumbled. Will caught her in his arms. His gaze held a personal question they'd agreed not to speak. Are you okay?
The butterflies that previously existed only in Emma's stomach flew to the places on her skin where Will held her: her arms, her back, a spot on her hip. Her heart raced. If they were in a play, she'd have swooned. However, in real life, she was on a plane and it terrified her. He did too. Sort of. She was afraid if she answered any of his questions she'd fall, in an altogether different way. She broke free and returned to her seat, buckling up.
Will sat back but didn't take his eyes off her. She supposed she could silence his words but not keep the questions from his gaze. Why'd he care anyway?
The plane leveled out. She stared out the window into the nothingness. When she looked back, to her relief, he'd reclined with his eyes closed.
Now, at rest and his expression serene, she almost glimpsed another side of the stud the public saw: vulnerability, like he hid something. Then again, he was a model, likely a pro at wearing a mask in any given situation.
Tingles lingered inside Emma after the contact with Will when they'd hit the bumpy patch high up in the clouds. She tried to shake off the feeling.
She turned on her phone, pleased to see the plane had Wi-Fi and for a distraction.
Curious, she searched his name. As Melody suggested, the online news outlets reported his debaucherous nights in the city. She couldn't understand why he'd risk losing everything he'd created for a few lousy parties. Yet she scrolled and scrolled, moving back in time and unable to pull herself away.
The plane lowered in altitude and Will woke up. "Why are you scowling?" he asked.
"I'm not." She wasn't about to confess she'd practically been stalking him online. "Why are we going to London?"
He scrubbed his hand down his face. "Personal matters, actually, and a few business things that would be more easily solved there." His expression was cold, hard.
"As your assistant, shouldn't I know these details?"
Will shook his head irritably. "We'll discuss the scope of your role when we arrive."
But she knew he didn't owe her an explanation because she'd shut the door of inquiry with her no questions rule.
Maybe she didn't have the money or a personal brand, but there were cookies on the plate next to her and they solved nearly every problem—at least that's what she and Penny believed. Maybe he just needed some sweetness in his life to soften that rock hard exterior.
"Are you sure you don't want a cookie?" She made a show of savoring a bite. "Mmm. You know, on second thought they're really yummy. Scrumptious. Irresistible." She closed her eyes as she bit into a soft sugar cookie. "You have no idea what you're missing." Her hand hovered over the plate. "Do you suppose you could ask Basil to bring me some milk?"
Will's eyes held hers with intensity, a hunger, a desire she wasn't sure was entirely for the confections on the table between them.
"Are you sure I can't tempt you with just one little nibble? It's only a kiss. It's only a cookie."
He shook his head slowly as though entranced.
She mock pouted. "Well, then more for me. I guess. But if you change your mind…"
The set of his jaw suggested he'd need more convincing to give in. If nothing else, she'd get him to eat a cookie.
Chapter 6
Will
She was impossible and spunky. He was annoyed and highly amused. She certainly had an effect on him. He felt it when their hands brushed and when he held her during the turbulence: she made his heart race and his thoughts cloud. However, he couldn't afford to lose focus. Not when he was back in London.
Will's driver, Benson, met them at the airport. They loaded into another SUV and passed the duration of the ride in silence, seated on opposite ends of the long leather seat.
He had an effect on her as well; he just wasn't sure what kind. He glanced over to her as the streetlight outside illuminated her smooth and rosy cheeks. She had eyes he could get lost in or live in or love. He shook the absurd thought from his head. She clearly didn't like him for reasons he couldn't figure out other than the big one—money.
He sighed as that familiar fatigue swept over him. If only it took him to sleep at night. He'd struggled with insomnia for months—what had sent him to the clubs when he was in the US. At least there, he wouldn't be alone with his thoughts. Will cleared his throat. "I get the sense you don't like me." The cover of night gave him the courage to speak the words out aloud. "In the modeling world, the energy between two people matters. If they don't have chemistry, the audience can tell."
She seemed to think about this. "I don't despise you. We're from different worlds."
Returning to London thrust him back into his old world—one he'd tried to avoid.
"London is a difficult one for me to be in." Much like the breakup with Veronica, he wanted to keep the visit as quiet as possible. He'd erected walls to protect himself. Then the sadness and feelings of rejection crept into his mind, his bones. But he'd never tell anyone. Never. It was easier to be numb. To build up his business and armor and forget everything.
He'd made himself perfect in every way, but it still wasn't good enough.
However, with the new agreement between Emma and him lying low wasn't an option.
As the SUV exited the motorway, familiar stone and brick buildings lined the sleepy streets, making him feel hollow, alone.
Her lips turned up ever so slightly and her eyes danced with the glow of London, still lit up for Christmas.
He was starting to resent Jared for putting him in this situation. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. Or ab…" He meant to make a joke but it fell flat and he knew it was stupid.
The vehicle stopped in front of an old, familiar, and stately building.
The rubbish bins were out for collecting and the headlights of the SUV swept over a figure rooting through one. His eyes and eyebrow ring glinted as he scurried off. A light in the upper window indicated things had been prepared for their arrival. Will took a deep breath and stepped into the street. "Home sweet home." But his words lacked meaning and emotion.
"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," Emma said as her eyes grew wide, taking in the ornate architecture of the large building.
They climbed the stone steps, passing through the columns. Her hand landed on the fleur de lis engravings.
"My mother was French." It slipped out.
"I've always wanted to go to France. I thought you said you weren't born with a silver spoon in your mouth."
"I bought this building with her memory in mind." He'd said too much.
"Oh. She's not—?"
He had to stop this before she took it further. Thinking about the loss made him afraid he'd crumble. He had to remain strong. "If you're going to make certain topics off limits, I can too. Let's not go there." His voice was harder than he'd meant because apart from Veronica, being home came with its own baggage. He cleared his throat as they both stepped inside the foyer. "Is that where you're from? Kansas? There was an application for a gym there."
Bartholomew, the butler, greeted them and took Will's coat. Will bypassed formality and drew the man into a hug. After everything that happened with Veronica, Bartholomew had been loyal and kind. The former he'd expect since Will paid to keep him in service, but the kindness was true. Bartholome
w patted Will cordially on the back and then smoothed his coat.
The butler moved to help Emma out of hers. "I'm fine, um." Bartholomew ignored her protests and eased her sleeves from her arms. "Okay, well, here you go." She passed him her outerwear and he slipped out of the room. Her hair stood straight up from the static again.
Will smirked.
Her cheeks blistered and she immediately smoothed it down. "No, I'm not from Kansas. I'm from a small suburb of New York. It's an expression. Like 'there's no place like home.' Wizard of Oz? Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Lion—?"
"And the Tin Man. He needed a heart, right?" Will said, eager to think about something familiar and not how irresistibly adorable she was, especially when she got flustered. It was endearing and a relief. A nice change from her irritable mood and a welcome dart to pierce his sullen one.
Nonetheless, after she looked around at their surroundings, she tossed him a shrewd look, suggesting he needed a heart like the Tin Man. "It's not very festive. No Christmas decorations?"
His flat might as well have been from the pages of a magazine called Modern Man: the metal and hardwood edition. It was a combination of traditional British style and sleek utilitarian.
After Veronica finally left he had the entire place redone. It suited him though. Simple, clean. Hard and reflective surfaces. It dawned on him that he'd sculpted his body in much the same way.
"Bartholomew wasn't expecting me so soon and this is my first time back since the renovations." Gone were the plush sofa, the lacy curtains, and frilly touches Veronica insisted upon. "Looks good, huh?" He ran his hand along the polished surface of a credenza.