His Manhattan_A British Billionaire Romance

by Tracy Lorraine

  That’s all shot to shit when I do look up and find none other than a very amused looking Zack staring back at me with his hands in his pockets. The smirk on his face tells me he knows exactly what I’m doing out of our suite. I panic as I stumble back to allow him to join me.

  “Going somewhere nice, big bro?” he slurs slightly.

  “Yeah…uh…I was coming to find you, actually.”

  “Aw, were you coming to tell me it’s past my bedtime, Daddy?” he laughs. “And here I was thinking you were heading to find that sexy little waitress you couldn’t keep your eyes off.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, hoping he’s drunk enough that he won’t remember this in the morning, but I don’t think I’m gonna be that lucky.

  “I didn’t think you cared that much, Harry. It’s sweet, really,” he says, staggering from the lift and bouncing off the walls towards our suite.

  I let out a sigh as I unlock the door and push him towards his room.

  Clearly, I wasn’t destined for a wild night of hot sex.

  Summer

  I’ve been working in LBD for a few months now, and every shift I receive some kind of proposition from a guy. Every time, it turns my stomach. I’m not cut out for this kind of job. I’m not a natural flirt like most of the other girls. I can’t turn it on and off when needed to ensure my tips keep coming.

  I came here with one goal in mind: earn as much money as possible. Ireland insisted the tips and the unsociable hours meant I’d save enough in no time. Unfortunately, she was unaware of my inability to flirt these rich guys out of their hard earned cash.

  This guy is different, though.

  The moment I looked into his dark eyes as he stared down on me, it was like the wind had been knocked out of me. I’ve never experienced that electric moment when you meet someone for the first time that you read about in books and see in films, but there it was.

  The other girls seemed to perk up, too, but they were probably just seeing dollar signs, as it had been a quiet night. I saw them giving their hair a shake and adjusting their boobs, readying themselves for action as I returned to the bar after cleaning up the mess I’d made.

  I’ve overheard some of the other girls conspiring between themselves about how to use me to earn more tips. They send me over first, knowing all I’ll do is get them drinks. Maybe they think it’ll make them all seem more interesting when they eventually head over and start flirting their asses off. None of the girls see me as a threat to their pay packets at the end of the night. Nor do they worry that I’m going to head off into the sunset with the eligible rich bachelor some of them are desperate for.

  I can barely put one foot in front of the other when Ireland and I head towards our lockers after our shift.

  “Breakfast?” she asks as we make our way out of the hotel. Her heels click against the polished floor making me wonder how she keeps them on. The first thing I do after a shift is change into my sneakers, closely followed by an energy drink or two. My body wasn’t designed to go without sleep; it’s a constant battle to stay awake.

  “I’m gonna head straight home.”

  “Summer, you’ve got to eat.”

  “Yeah, I will. I’ve got some noodles in the cupboard.”

  “That’s not food,” she snaps, her eyes narrowed in my direction. “Look, I get it. I know you’re saving every penny you can, but there are certain things you can’t scrimp on—food being one of them.

  “Alright, fine. I’ll just have toast or something.”

  “You will not.”

  I squint as we head out into the early morning heat. The little black dress I’ve been wearing for the past twelve hours sticks to my clammy skin. A shower and bed is what I need, but I can’t refuse Ireland’s offer.

  “Mornin’ ladies,” Clive sings as we walk into his diner, only a few blocks from our duplex.

  I can’t help the groan that bubbles up my throat when the salty bacon and sugary syrup hit my tongue.

  “Oh, so good,” Ireland groans around a mouthful of pancakes.

  “Uh huh.”

  “What’s this about you walking into some British guy and smashing a tray full of glasses at his feet?” I groan at her question, forgetting she was in the VIP room at the time. “Apparently he was pretty taken by you.”

  I think back to the man in question, and another shiver runs through me as I think about his dark eyes and full lips. He’s not even here and he affects me.

  “I doubt it,” I mumble around a mouthful of food. I’m not interested in discussing his obvious interest, because I’ll probably never see him again. Plus, I have no desire to date—or anything of that nature—which Ireland is fully aware of. I’m here for the job and the money, and that’s it. Definitely not a British guy with eyes I could lose myself in. A guy who’s just a few years too old for me.

  “Summer,” she snaps. “You’re killing yourself at the club. Would it do any harm to enjoy yourself at the same time?”

  “I am enjoying myself. I love living with you, and Vegas is…nice.”

  “That’s not the kind of enjoying yourself I mean.” I know exactly what she meant. I’m just not interested. “He was just your type—”

  “How do you know my type?” I’m not even aware that I have a type, let alone that he’s it.

  Ireland shrugs. “He’s just the kind of guy I always pictured you with. Older, smart, polite, drinks gin and tonic…British.”

  I shake my head at her as I try to contain my smile because, damn it, she’s right. Images of his perfect nose and strong cheekbones filter into my mind, but I bat them away. I won’t see him again.

  The second we’ve paid, we’re out of there and heading for our beds. I’ve been pulling twelve hour shifts since one of the new girls bailed a couple of weeks ago. I know it’ll be worth it in the long run, but damn, I’m exhausted.

  Leaving Ireland faffing about with her purse, I head straight for the bathroom, kicking off my sneakers and unzipping my dress as I go. I need sleep too badly to be wasting time.

  The water’s scorching hot and burns my skin, but the temperature is a welcome relief to my tight muscles.

  I pull my hair down and make quick work of washing it and myself before turning the water off. Wrapping a towel around myself and scooping up my discarded clothes, I head for my bedroom. I just about manage the effort of dropping the towel and pulling on a vest and panties before I fall face first onto my bed. The cool sheets feel incredible against my heated skin. I briefly think about my shift, but I regret it when I fall asleep with his face on my mind.

  Summer

  I swipe my phone from the side, and it takes me a few seconds for the numbers to register in my head.

  “Damn it.” I jump from the bed and rush around to grab everything I need. My shift starts in just over thirty minutes. I pull my last clean dress from the hanger before heading for the bathroom and repeating in my head that I must do some laundry before my next shift, the same as I do most days.

  “You’re late,” Maximo, my boss, barks at me when I run into our little staff room two minutes after my shift was suppose to start.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, throwing my stuff into my locker and quickly changing my shoes. The sketch I did during a quiet shift of me and Ireland stood behind the bar that’s pinned to the inside of my locker makes my lip twitch with a slight smile, as I attempt to ignore the man behind me.

  I stand to my full height and go to walk out, but he grabs my wrist as I pass him. I resist the urge to reach out with my other hand and slap him.

  “Your hair’s a mess. And where’s your lipstick?” His eyes run over the rest of me. I’m not sure if he’s looking for anything else I could have done wrong, or just checking me out. Either way, it makes my stomach turn over.

  Returning to my locker, I dig around in my purse until I find my brush and lipstick, and set about fixing myself.

  I feel his eyes follow my every movement the whole time, and the smirk on his face makes me sick.
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  I focus on my dream, like I do many times. This is just a means to an end. Two years max, and I should have enough to enrol in art school. I’ll have to work while studying, but it’ll be manageable.

  The whole night is crazy. I don’t get a second to myself, or a chance to chat to the girls. But that doesn’t mean I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder in case he walks in, or listening for his smooth accent.

  I don’t want to be disappointed he’s not here tonight, but I am. I want to believe everything I said to Ireland about not being interested in a man. I accepted Ireland’s offer of a job here because I have a dream for my future, not because I’m looking for a rich husband to sponge off. I want to paint. I want to travel. I want do what I love and make money at the same time.

  When happy hour kicks off, I know I’m closer to sleeping. Exhaustion has meant I’ve stopped paying attention to who’s entering the club, but I also didn’t get the impression he was the type to party all night.

  I sigh heavily as I continue making mimosa after mimosa for the girls to hand out, when I hear a familiar accent. Unfortunately, it doesn’t belong to the brother I was hoping to see.

  He locks his gaze onto me and, after running his eyes over my body, he makes a beeline for my end of the bar. Brilliant.

  “Well, if it isn’t shy little Summer,” he says patronisingly.

  “Mimosa?” I offer with a forced smile as I hand over a glass.

  “Hmmm.” His eyes continue to take me in, and I can’t help but blush under his gaze. “I think I’d prefer a slippery nipple.”

  My face flames and I shove the mimosa under his nose, muttering something about it being free before fleeing to the other end of the bar to help Brynne with a large group of drunk guys who’ve just descended on her.

  Harrison

  I’m awoken by my phone vibrating on the nightstand. I glance around to get an idea of the time, but the blackout blinds do too good a job; the room’s in darkness.

  Locating my phone, I squint when the illuminated screen shows my brother’s name. I heard him disappear from our suite not that long after he got back up here, but I wasn’t going after him. I may have made out like I cared last night, but he’s big enough and ugly enough to look after himself. I let it ring, debating whether to answer or not. Knowing my luck, he’s been arrested and needs bailing out.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when it rings off, but no sooner has the light gone out does it start again.

  Deciding the best way to get rid of him is to answer it, I swipe the screen and bring it to my ear.

  “What?” I bark. Not only has he woken me up, but it’ll be for something fucking ridiculous.

  “It’s happy hour in the club; get your arse down here.”

  I groan. Why would I want alcohol this early in the morning?

  “It’s free.”

  The price really doesn’t help to sway me. I’ve got enough to pay for a few bloody drinks.

  “I’m going back to sleep.” I start pulling the phone from my ear.

  “That shy waitress you were so taken by is serving,” he says quickly, getting my attention.

  “Right?” The phone moves back to my ear.

  “I thought that might get your attention.” He’s right; I’m more than interested. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. But after a fitful night’s sleep, I decided I didn’t come here to hook up—especially with a waitress who’s way too young for me.

  “I’m good,” I say, although the slight waver in my voice shows it’s not really the truth.

  “You’re saying she’s fair play, then? Thank fuck for that, because she’s looking fine this morning. I’m telling you, that arse…I could just—”

  “I’m on my way,” I say, jumping out of bed and hanging up, much to Zack’s amusement.

  Little fucker just played me and I fell hook, line and fucking sinker for it.

  I’m showered, dressed, and in the lift in minutes. I know Zack was baiting me, but I have to get down there and make sure it was a joke, and that he’s not trying to get his hands on her. Zack’s an arsehole to women, and Summer’s too sweet to be subjected to that.

  I march towards the club entrance, more agitated than I should be by this situation. I shouldn’t care who Zack’s trying it on with. I’m sure she’s able to look after herself. But even still, I storm in and immediately scan the bar looking for them.

  I don’t see Summer, but I soon find Zack looking back at me with a smug as fuck look on his face. There seems to be no sign of a hangover.

  “What took you so long? Refolding your knickers?”

  “You’re a dickhead,” I mutter when I step up to him.

  “Mimosa?” he asks with a knowing smile as he hands me a glass.

  I take it from him and knock it back, needing something to settle me.

  As I put the glass down and look up at Zack, she appears through a door behind the bar.

  Fuck, she’s beautiful. Even more so than I remember from last night—Zack wasn’t lying about that. I run my eyes over her body, encased by her little black dress. It clings in all the right places, but it’s also classy as fuck compared to some of the other waitress’.

  She puts down the box she’s carrying before looking up. Her eyes immediately meet mine and my heart starts to race. I expect her to look away like she did every time I caught her last night, but to my surprise, she holds my stare. Her lips part slightly; my only thought is to wonder if she tastes as sweet as I imagine. Suddenly, I regret my decision not to find her last night. I could have had the answer to that question.

  “You are so in there, brother!” Zack says happily. I reach my hand out and slap him around the head.

  “Hey,” she says when she comes over to clear the dirty glasses in front of us.

  “I feel like I probably need to apologise again for him,” I say with a side glance to my brother, but he seems to be distracted by another of Summer’s colleagues. “Long night?” I ask when she tries to hide her yawn.

  “Yeah. Not long to go, though.”

  Part of me feels like an arsehole because it’s obvious to anyone that she really needs to go home to sleep, but the other part is desperate to spend some time with her, get to know her. I’ve no idea why I feel that way. I swore off women a few years ago, but something about shy Summer draws me to her.

  I sit myself on a bar stool and smile as I watch her cleaning the bar top and fiddling with some bottles. I’m pretty sure I make her nervous, and it’s just an excuse to look busy. The thought sends excitement through me that maybe my attraction isn’t one sided. As I watch her work, feelings slowly start to seep in I thought I’d banished, feelings I never thought I would experience again when it came to another woman. Happiness, contentment, safety…everything I thought I’d found back then that was shot to shit.

  I would have thought the sudden rush of what I’d been missing would freak me out, but strangely enough, I feel relaxed. I know she knows I’m watching. Every few minutes, her eyes flick over to me to check.

  I hear a couple of the other waitresses discussing their plans for when their shift ends in thirty minutes, so I make my excuses to leave. Her face drops when I say goodbye, and sadness darkens her sparkling blue eyes. It’s all the evidence I need to know I’m about to do the right thing.

  As I lean back against the wall, I start to wonder if she left through a back entrance and I missed my chance. The amount of disappointment I feel surprises me. I’ve met this woman twice; she’s served me two drinks, so why I’m so taken with her is beyond me. The only person who seems to understand it is Zack—which is strange, to say the least. If you’d have asked me before now, I’d have said he’s the most selfish arsehole on the planet, but he got me down here this morning for a reason. Shame I’ve now cocked it up. I’ll just have to hope she’s working again tonight, because I will be spending more time with her, one way or another.

  I almost give it up as a bad job, but just as I push myself from the wal
l, I see her round the corner in front of me.

  My body stills as I take her in. She’s still wearing the tight black dress from the club, but her hair has been pulled from its scraped back ponytail and is now in a messy bun with bits hanging around her face. The most obvious change is the shoes. Gone are the sexy little heels she was wearing, in favour of a pair of trainers.

  She makes her way towards me, completely oblivious as she digs around in her bag before pulling out a can of energy drink. She pops the top and I move to stand in front of her.

  “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” she says when she bumps into me, even though she’s the one now wearing her drink. That wasn’t part of the plan.

  In her trainers, she’s shorter than I was expecting, so it seems to take forever for her eyes to look up from my chest. The second she sees it’s me, they widen in surprise. I’m pretty sure it’s a good surprise when her lips twitch into a small smile.

  Our eye contact holds. I lose all train of thought and forget why I’m standing here toe to toe with her. My hands clench at my sides with the need to reach out and pull her to me. She raises one of her eyebrows in curiosity when I don’t do anything.

  “Shit, sorry…fuck,” I stutter like a fumbling idiot. “I got you these,” I say, pulling a bunch of roses out from behind my back. The woman on reception came up trumps, pointing me in the direction of a florist just off the strip.

  I love the look on her face. It makes her even more beautiful and it only heightens my need for her.

  “For me?” she asks, like it can’t be possible.

  “Can I take you for breakfast?”

  “Uh…” She looks around as she thinks about her answer. “You want to take me to breakfast?”

  “Yes. I’ve got a table booked for us.” I point in the general direction of the restaurant, and her gaze follows.

  “Oh no…I don’t think…” She looks down at herself and her cheeks blush once again. Fuck, I love that look on her.