"What's up?" Holden asks.
“Yeah, Estelle? The building doesn't seem to be on fire," I mock as I continue to make my way further into the office. Holden chuckles behind me.
"You don't know?" she asks.
"If we did, I wouldn’t ask the question," Holden retorts.
"My God. You really don’t know,” she repeats. She seems amazed. “It must have been quite the night. You two practically live with your phones glued to your hands." She isn't entirely wrong. "If you haven't got a clue of what I'm talking about that means your Sunday was far more eventful than mine and clearly it trickled into your Monday morning." Her lips curl up.
She may be right, but I'm surely not going to tell her. Holden shoots me a stare that clearly indicates that he isn't going down that road with her either.
"Estelle, instead of playing twenty-one questions, why don't you just spit it out. Brandon and I had other things on the go this morning that required our full attention," Holden tells her. Ain't that the truth.
"You’re everywhere." Huh? "Every single big newspaper in the country is raving about the Raven and its Navy-SEALs-turned-tech-genius-billionaire-creators. That, gentlemen, would be you."
"What do you mean?" I ask surprised.
"It's as if the top ten newspapers in the country plotted this monster media coverage. Photos from last Wednesday's honorary ceremony are splashed across the front pages of the most important business and technology sections. And the websites.”
"Which papers are we talking about?" Holden asks carefully.
“Daily Mail, Daily Mirror, Daily Express, The Guardian, The Daily Telegraph, The Sun, BBC News and The Independent." Estelle enumerates each one on her fingers.
"Wow, that's a big deal," I say.
"Gentlemen, that's a very big deal," she corrects me. “It's even spilled back to your homeland. The media in America is going wild."
"Are you serious?" I ask at the same time as Holden exclaims, "No way."
"I'm not lying. I got in at eight-thirty hoping to catch up on some work, but it never happened. It's been a tsunami of inquiries since I walked through the door."
"Holy shit," Holden and I say in unison.
Estelle flashes us a huge smile. "It's been an absolute madhouse. The phone has been ringing off the hook. We've received more orders for the App this morning than we have all of last week—and if you recall last week was pretty epic."
“Yes, it was," I agree.
"We kicked butt in Dublin," Holden notes.
"I'm not a clairvoyant, but I predict this week will blow our socks off," Estelle affirms.
"Wow." As if kicking off this week by fucking Amelia wasn’t enough, this lands in our laps. "I can't wait to get started,” I rub my hands together.
“Let’s do this,” Holden cheers, patting me on the back.
"I can't tell you how happy I am that you two finally showed up. The staff has been running around like headless chickens trying to juggle it all. They’re using the large conference room as the headquarters. That cuts down on the back and forth. They’ve been diligently working with our Randstad plant in the Netherlands to get as many of the Raven earpieces produced as urgently as possible. It's been such a nonstop day that I ordered breakfast and lunch for everyone. It goes without saying that everyone has been ingesting copious amounts of coffee to keep up. We’ve barely had time to visit the loo. It's been balls to the wall all day, gentlemen." Damn, I love that expression.
"I can imagine," I sympathize.
"On a lighter note, you two looked absolutely dashing in your tuxedos. Those photos really did you justice.”
“Thank you,” we say in unison.
“Seriously, you belong on a runway more than at the Bromley Pavilion—as spectacular as it is of a location," she laughs.
"I'm glad we followed your advice," Holden says.
"I think you were right, it wouldn’t have been the same with suits," I add my two cents.
“Thank you for saying that." She lowers her eyes and glides the palm of her hand against her hair in a coquettish move. "I can't believe you’d listen to me. I’m humbled." Says the fairly opinionated assistant. "May I say those photos with the PM’s daughter are quite becoming. You look so good together. Even Francis agrees.” That’s her husband. “I don’t think I’ve seen her look more beautiful than that night." That’s because you haven’t seen her climax. Estelle takes a step forward and leans in. We mirror her and do the same. All three of us are now huddled together in a small circle in the middle of the hallway. "Rumor has it that she's single.” That cheeky glee in our assistant’s eyes is comical. "Amelia Cavendish that is," she adds as if it wasn’t obvious.
"Really?" Holden asks casually.
"Yes. She was seeing a Frederick at some point. A dapper chap from a very good family. Very old money and all. An aspiring surgeon to boot. I haven't seen any photos of them as of late surface on the pages of The Daily Mail’s Femail section—my favorite celebrity-slash-gossip website. Something tells me that relationship fizzled.” Yup. That's part of her past now. "She was also linked to another lad,” she pauses. “Tsk. What’s his name again?” Estelle snaps her fingers a few quick times. “Oh, I forgot. I guess he wasn’t all that memorable. In any case, Amelia is a great catch," Estelle adds. "Maybe she’d fancy one of you.”
"You think so?" I ask.
Holden snickers.
"Absolutely. You have a lot to offer. So does she." I couldn't have said it better. "On top of having a good head on her shoulders, she's gorgeous, smart, elegant, she has a great little body on her." I can attest to that first-hand. "Did you know she has her own wildly successful business?" Estelle should consider becoming Amelia's publicist. She's doing a great job at pimping her.
"You don't say?" Holden joins in on the fun.
"No really, Mr. Barclay. She's such a role model. Contrary to King Albert's grandchildren, Miss Cavendish stays away from sensationalism nonsense. She has better things to do with her time than delve into that sort of rubbish." Yup, that was laced with disapproval. Estelle puffs out her chest with pride when she says that last part. You’d think she was Amelia's mother.
"Brandon, maybe one of us should try to go after Miss Cavendish? Maybe there was a connection? We did have a great conversation with her before the ceremony." I nearly explode in laughter.
“Oh, God, could there be something between you?” Estelle gasps.
"Did you grab her contact details? One of us needs to invite her out for dinner." Holden takes the charade to a whole other level.
"Hmmm, if I recall correctly, the Prime Minister asked us to go through Miss Lancaster to deliver the Raven earpiece we promised his daughter,” I piggyback on what Holden has already started.
"Let’s send her two," Holden suggests. "Who knows maybe she's planning a trip with a girlfriend or something."
“I’m right on it,” Estelle offers without being asked.
“Oh, can you also send one to the Prime Minster? Brandon and I will write personal notes for both of them.”
“Absolutely. This is so exciting,” Estelle cheers.
"Great idea," I play along. "Maybe once Miss Cavendish gets the Raven, she’ll be in touch to let us know how she likes it. Maybe then we can find out if she fancies either of us." Or both of us.
"Ha," Estelle gasps, placing one hand against her heart and waving the other. "That's a wonderful first step. You never know. Can you imagine if this were to lead to something?" Trust me, I can do more than imagine. "It's too bad you don't know where she lives.” Wrong. “It would've been better to deliver it in person. It makes such a great first impression.” I think we aced that part already. “That's how connections are made, gentlemen." She’s way too invested. "But then again perhaps I shouldn’t get my hopes up that one of my dashing bosses might end up with the Prime Minister’s daughter." See what I mean? Way too invested.
"You don't think she’d go for either of us?" Holden asks with a frown.
; "You definitely have the looks and the success—both of you. The military background doesn't hurt one bit. No doubt her father would like that a lot."
"So, what's the problem?" Holden presses. Sneaky devil.
It's best if I’m an observer for this next round because I'm sure I'll betray myself. Holden has a much better poker face than I do.
“It's only that she might prefer men her own age," Estelle says with seriousness. “Not that you’re old, by any means, but she's nearly a decade your junior. Some women can’t handle an older man.” As of Saturday, Holden and I changed that. “Oh well," Estelle shrugs. "I should really learn to mind my own business. I shouldn’t be this concerned with Miss Cavendish’s dating life, or yours for that matter." She decides that now? "But bloody hell, did you ever look good in those photos. Even the photos of the three of you together were just smashing. It was like a group of supermodels posing." She shakes her head. "Anyhow, let me get back to work before you decide to fire me for overstepping my boundaries," she winks.
"Now that you mentioned it, maybe we should find another assistant who doesn't have such strong views on our dating life," I wink back. Are we dating Amelia? I don't have time to linger on my thought. When I notice Estelle's eyes widened in horror, I quickly add, "Joke. I'm just kidding."
"Yeah, why don't you go back to work? I think you’ve given us a good piece of your mind.” Holden snickers. Estelle turns beet red. “Brandon and I will go and join the team in the conference room."
"There are a number of personal phone calls that only you can handle," she says.
"That's fine, just send them our way. Now that we're here, we’ll deal with them." I put her mind at ease.
Our assistant turns on her heel, but Holden stops her. "Oh, one last thing, Estelle, can you make reservations at a restaurant for tomorrow tonight? You know all the good ones. Brandon and I will take the team out. So many restaurants are closed on Monday nights anyways. Not to mention that based on what you’ve just shared I doubt any of us will be out of here at a decent time tonight. We’ll make sure to call it an early day tomorrow so we can all gather to celebrate this major coup as a company."
"Brilliant," she cheers and practically skips back to her desk.
CHAPTER 43
Amelia
Ow. Ow. Ow.
I step out of the lift on wobbly legs, contorting my face in a grimace. I still can't decide if walking or sitting for the short ride from my penthouse to my office is more painful. Every time the chauffeur hit a bump, I cringed. Officer Roderick’s furtive and amused glances from the passenger seat didn't go unnoticed. I've been walking around like my fanny was on fire since I left Holden and Brandon's place. In many ways it is. I think it's still in shock. So am I. My pussy hasn’t had this kind of workout since— Well, never.
I thought Geoffrey was a bit of a wildcard in bed compared to a more levelheaded Gianluigi. Now I realize he was more like a jackrabbit than anything else. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. And he's done. And he's already snoring. I swear the second time around I counted five thrusts before he started yelling out God's name. Holden and Brandon are definitely ‘the re-education’ of Amelia Cavendish. And are they ever demanding teachers. It's a good thing I’m a diligent student. I guess I do have a very big incentive... or should I say two. Not only did I have to get used to their massive size and their impressive length, but I also had to adjust to their insatiable hunger. My two formidable lovers barely had time to come than they were hard again. Un-bloody-believable. As much as my body is aching after the most sinful sex marathon of my life, I can't help but grin. I've never been desired this much and it feels fucking amazing. I just wish Charlie was around or at least reachable so I could share this news with her. I, Amelia Jade Cavendish, finally knows what a proper shag is. Who would've thunk it?
I didn't go lightweight this afternoon. I armed myself with as much liquid rocket fuel as my bladder could handle. Holden, Brandon and I already enjoyed two strong cups of latte on their deck, but that's not nearly enough to jolt some energy into my well sexed-up body. It goes without saying that a bottle of green energy juice from The Good Life Eatery is a must. Since I'm determined to get some work done, I also grabbed a very large latte with a double shot of espresso from Kaffeine. I prayed and I prayed for this Aussie coffee shop to open near my office and a few months ago, God answered. Come to think of it, He’s been very attentive to my silent requests lately. Even those I didn’t know I had. Thank you.
When I push open the door to my office, I immediately notice the frazzled look on my assistant’s face. The phone is glued to her ear and her hands are gesticulating in an impatient wave. And here’s what really gets me panicked, she has three pens stuck in her blonde high bun. One is usually a bad sign. Three? Not good. Not good at all.
“Good morning, Just in Case, may I place you on hold, sir," I hear my assistant say. Her agitated vibe betrays her calm voice. Without looking up, she moves onto the next call. “Good morning, Just in Case—” she repeats her greeting message, but stops in mid-sentence. “Yes, Miss Cavendish is the owner. No, that isn’t a rumor. No, the press didn't get it wrong. Yes, she's the Prime Minister's daughter. No, she’s not in yet. No, I don't know when to expect her. I’m sorry, sir, I’m going to have to place you on hold. This console is lit up like the Christmas tree in Trafalgar Square during the festive season.” I bend at the knees and wave at her. Isla lifts a finger at me and mouths, “One second.” She points to the microphone and rolls her eyes. The phone rings again. “Good morning, Just in Case— It’s best to go through Miss Cavendish’s PR company to book future interviews, madam. Mr. Terrence Adams is our point person there. You can give him a call. I'll gladly give you his number. Our publicity firm takes care of those sort of things— I’m sorry, madam, I'm going to have to put you on a brief hold, I’ll be right back.” Isla notices my freaked-out expression when she pulls her eyes up towards me. "I'll be right with you," she whispers.
"Okay,” I whisper back.
I watch in amazement as she goes back to the calls that she put on hold and answers what seems to be a million questions.
Isla Whelan has been working with me for the past three years. During my first year in business, I was able to manage things on my own, but as more and more clients discovered my accessories, I quickly realized that I was juggling too many balls in the air. Isla is amazing and she's a hard worker. Bonus, her straight-talking is such a breath of fresh air. She’s twenty-eight and she's a trained graphic designer. I snatched her from a top design studio. Although I couldn't match her wages at the time, she was more than happy to escape the punishing hours of agency life. The fact that I knew her mum also helped.
Finally, after a few harrowing minutes, she silences the phone before yanking her headphone from her head. She drops it on her desk in a loud thump and lets out a long exhale.
What's going on? “Good morning, Isla," I say cheerfully.
“Good morning, Amelia," she sighs. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you.”
“What was that all about?” I point at the phone console with my free hand. “Why are we getting all those calls?”
“This is the morning from bloody hell,” she exclaims.
Huh? "What brought that on?" I ask, confused.
“You don’t know?" She's clearly shocked.
"What did I miss?"
"You haven’t checked your Facebook newsfeed yet?”
Isla knows that I go by Diana Prince on my personal accounts.
“Well, no—”
"Not even the business Facebook account?" My blank expression answers her question. “Wow.” Since this sounds like it's going to be an intense conversation, I drop my leather tote bag, coffee and bottle of juice that was tucked under my armpit on her desk. Something tells me I need to be prepared for this. "I gather you haven't checked any newspapers yet?" I shake my head. "Any business or technology websites?" I give her another shake of the head. "Have you been on the Internet at all since you
woke up this morning?" Her voice goes up several octaves.
"Is Armageddon upon us?" I tease.
"My God," Isla says before sinking into her seat.
"I’ve been tied up all morning and I really didn't have time to be on the Internet," I offer as an explanation. I mean seriously. Between getting fucked by two of the most amazing men I’ve ever met and coming my brains out, social media was the last thing on my mind. “Why don't you give me a quick summary of what I’ve missed?" I suggest.
Isla’s eyes widen. “This is like we charged a rocket and it's now erupted into the media stratosphere, Amelia." She's not making any sense. "Not even a wizard-slash-media-sorceress-slash-she-can-sell-snow-to-Eskimos like Charlie could’ve orchestrated anything this perfect. This epic. This monumental. This our-little-company-is-about-to-explode tsunami." Okay, that's a lot of adjectives.
"We got featured in the news?" I come to the only possible conclusion.
"That pales in comparison to what actually happened. Your face and that little body of yours,” she waves her finger at me, "is all over the top ten business and technology newspapers and websites. Everybody in the country now knows you're behind Just in Case.”
"Which photos?"
"The ones that were taken at the honorary ceremony your father held last Wednesday," she explains.
"Oh." Wow. "Which publications were we featured in?" Isla gives me a rundown of the top ten newspapers in the country. I'm completely gobsmacked by the list. "That’s bloody amazing."
"I know. I couldn't believe it myself."
"As much as I love Charlie and I’m certain she can walk on water, I agree, I don't think even she could’ve pulled this off.”
“Told ya,” Isla grins.
“God, this is like Christmas, summer vacation and my birthday all wrapped up into the perfect day," I exclaim.
I really, really want to add a few proper shags and an endless series of toe-curling orgasms to that list, but I refrain. Best to leave those out. A bit too personal.
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