She shakes her head like I’m talking nonsense and looks away from me. Walking over, I take her cheek in my hand and make her look up at me. “Trust me when I tell you these will sell, Summer. This is what I do…I know. You shouldn’t be working in that club, slogging your guts out. You need to be doing this.” I gesture behind me to her painting, but she still doesn’t look convinced.
“I’ve no idea how to go about selling one, even if I did think they were good enough.”
“Have you got any more?”
“Loads. Most are at my parents’. I’ve mostly been sketching since I’ve been here. I work too many hours to put much time to it.”
“Will you consider giving me a couple to sell? To prove to you that you’re good enough?”
She tries to look away again.
“Summer?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Now there’s something I really want to do.”
Her eyebrows shoot up and she squeals as I rip the sheets away and lift her into my arms.
“Holy shit,” she squeals when I walk us into the shower. It’s only seconds before the water starts to warm up, but I don’t care. Her hot, naked body is plastered against mine; the only thing I’m thinking about right now is how fast I can get inside her.
I wanted to take her out for breakfast this morning, as is becoming our tradition, but she slept until almost noon so I have to settle with lunch. Not that it’s a hardship.
Summer takes us to a local café and insists on paying, seeing as I’ve settled everything so far. I have no problem paying for her; I want to treat her, make her life a little easier, but I understand her need to feel like she’s contributing, so I shut up and allow her to do what she needs to do.
I reluctantly leave not long after we get back to her place. Not only have I got work to do, but she’s got a shift this evening. She needs to sleep if she’s going to make it through to the morning.
Anger washes through me as I think about her serving all those sleazy guys in the club. She’s too pure, beautiful and talented to have to deal with all those arseholes. But what can I do about it? She’ll never accept money from me, even if it is for her paintings.
I fall back onto the sofa in my suite at the hotel and swipe through the photos I took of her artwork while she was getting coffee earlier. They’re not great images—they don’t do her art any justice—but I’m hoping they’re enough to get some interest. I want to prove to her that she has the talent to make money doing what she loves, and what better way than with a cheque, or at least an offer to purchase?
Attaching the images to some emails, I ping them off to a couple of clients I have who might be interested before shutting my laptop down. Summer’s shift is starting soon, and I have every intention of being sat at her end of the bar for the best part of the night.
Summer
I keep one eye on the door all night, expecting him to walk through at any minute. He promised he’d be here, but the sun’s going to be rising soon and he’s yet to show his face.
I try not to worry as I continue serving my customers. I’m sure he’s just fallen asleep, or he’s lost track of time working…he did say he had a lot to do.
My mind wanders over our time together, and I can’t help the blush that finds it’s way onto my cheeks. The image of his serious eyes as he looked down on me won’t leave. It scares and excites me in equal measures.
He’s leaving in a few days, and so far, neither of us has mentioned it. The thought of him going back to London and never seeing me again doesn’t sit well with me, but what else is going to happen? He’s got a successful business and a life. And I’ve got…well, not a lot really, but that doesn’t mean I’d hop on the first flight out of this place. Even thinking about it is crazy, even if the prospect of following him excites me more than I’d willingly admit. I barely know him. Everything he’s shown me so far might be one big act. He might have wife and two kids in London waiting for him. This really could just a bit of fun for him while he’s here. He’s away from home; it’s easy not to be yourself.
I let out a sigh as I wipe down the already clean bar in front of me. Until a few days ago, I had a firm plan in place. Work as many hours as I can, get the money I need, and enrol in art school. But then, I heard his smooth British accent, looked into his dark eyes and my entire world turned upside down. I can’t even allow myself to think about the possibility of selling some of my pieces. I convince myself he was just being nice. We’d just spent the night together and I caught him looking through my sketchbook; he was just saying what he thought I’d want to hear.
My heart’s racing when my shift’s over. Finding him waiting for me the last few days has been nothing short of amazing. He’ll be here, I tell myself as I round the corner, but my heart drops into my stomach the second I look up. I glance around at all the people coming and going, but I don’t see him.
Rummaging around my purse for my cell, I come up empty handed. “Shit.”
I loiter around for ten minutes just in case he’s lost track of time. I’m convinced he’ll be here, but as the minutes tick by, I begin to realise I’m wrong.
He’s not coming.
Is that it? Did he only want to get into my panties?
My skin starts to burn as I walk out into the morning sun, but I don’t notice it as I begin my long walk home. My head’s a mess. I believed I meant more to him than a one-night hook up. I feel a tear run down my cheek and I angrily swipe it away, frustrated that I fell for his British charm.
I strip my dress off the second I enter our house and make my way to the shower. Images of what we got up to in here yesterday do nothing for my mental state, and I find myself slapping at the tiles in frustration. I cover my face with my hands and scream, hoping the sound of the water ensures Ireland won’t hear me.
I’m emotionally and physically spent by the time I get out. I pull on some panties and a vest and fall on to my bed.
I feel like a hot mess when I walk into work the next night. I managed a few hours of sleep, but even that was fitful and full of dreams about his dark eyes and smooth words.
I don’t bother looking out for him. I know he’s not here. Something felt different when he was. I was different. Now, I’m just the same boring, shy Summer I was before he entered my life.
I guess I should be thankful. He brought something out of me I wasn’t sure existed. For a few hours, I was the sexy, confident woman I admire in others.
I don’t keep an eye on the door. I know he won’t be walking though it. Instead, I keep my head down and try to keep myself as busy as possible as a distraction. I know the others have noticed my mood; they keep glancing over at me with concerned faces.
It’s just gone midnight when I spot someone I wasn’t expecting to see sitting at the bar.
Zack.
I watch as he speaks to Mila, and after getting him a drink, she calls me over.
“Good evening,” I say politely, I had no desire to speak to him much before, let alone now.
Zack doesn’t say anything for a long while, and eventually Mila must get the message because she makes her excuses and wanders off.
“What do you want, Zack?” I ask, my abruptness shocking me as well as him.
“Harrison wanted me to give you this,” he says, handing over an envelope. Written in stunning penmanship on the front is Summer, my Manhattan girl.
“Why couldn’t he do it himself?” I fight to keep the emotion from my voice.
“He couldn’t.” It doesn’t really answer my question. “Right, I’m off then,” he announces as he gets up from his stool after knocking his drink back. “Ahhh, I love a good suck, bang and blow.” He winks at me as my blush hits before disappearing, leaving me clutching Harrison’s envelope.
“Everything okay?” Mila asks, looking over my shoulder as I stare down at the envelope.
“Uh…”
“Why don’t you take your break? I’ve got you covered.”
“Sure,” I whisper.
I walk off towards our little staff room, clutching the envelope. My hands tremble as I consider what might be inside. My strongest guess is an apology, one he wasn’t brave enough to say in person. I never would’ve had him down as a coward, but his disappearance leads me to think he might be.
I blow out a long, slow breath before tucking my finger under the sealed flap and ripping it open.
Summer,
I’m sorry but I’ve been called back to London. It was never my intention to leave without seeing you, but I had to get on the next flight and there was no time.
My original flight back leaves tomorrow. You’ll find the ticket enclosed with your name on it.
You don’t belong there, Summer. You have a talent that the world needs to see. Please allow me to help you.
Nothing would give me greater pleasure than picking you up from that flight in a few hours. Actually, that’s not entirely true—what would follow would probably give me far more pleasure. I love it when you blush.
Yours,
Harrison x
I place my palms over my heated cheeks as I reread his letter. He wants me to get on a plane to London. What about my life here? My job?
“I’m really sorry, Sum, it’s got crazy out there,” Mila says a few minutes later when she pops her head into the room. When she sees the tears on my cheeks, her expression softens. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be there in a few seconds.”
The rest of the night is manic. I’m glad it is, because it means thoughts of Harrison and his offer are forced to the back of my mind. Mila continues to keep an eye on me, and although I’m grateful for her concern, it also reminds me of everything I’m trying to ignore.
“Wow, I thought that shift was never going to end,” Mila says as we make our way to our lockers.
“It was a busy night,” I mutter sadly.
“I’m taking you to breakfast,” she announces. “I think you need it.”
I haven’t got it in me to argue, so once we’ve gathered our stuff and I’ve changed my shoes, we head out. I follow to her diner of choice as she chats away about the night and our array of customers. I’m thankful she steers clear of any questions about me.
It’s not until our food’s been eaten that she brings it up. “You can talk to me about it, you know.” A lump forms in my throat and tears sting my eyes. “The other girls mentioned you’d met a guy. What’s happened?”
“He left,” I manage to get out. Her soft and sympathetic eyes bring everything to the surface, and I drop my head into my hands and sob. I feel ridiculous, because I only knew him a few days. How can it bother me so much that he’s gone?
“Time doesn’t matter when it comes to love, Sum,” Mila says, making me look at her. I didn’t realise I said that out loud.
“What was in the envelope?”
I haven’t got the strength to explain, so I dig it out from my purse and hand it over. Sitting back in my chair, I watch as she reads his words. Her mouth drops as she pulls the accompanying ticket from the envelope.
“Wow. So are you going?”
“That would be crazy. I can’t just leave my life and head off to London. It’s totally insane.”
“Yeah, it could be. Or it could be the most romantic and incredible thing ever.”
“I’m going to ignore that last part,” I mutter.
“Oh come on, Summer, how is that not romantic? It’s like something from a film.”
“I can’t go. I can’t lose what I have here. Plus, my family.”
“They’re in New York, and the last time we spoke, you said you hadn’t heard from them since you moved here, so I’m sorry, but I don’t think they should be included in this decision. This could be the best thing that ever happens to you, Summer. It could change your life.”
I say goodbye to Mila outside the diner and we head off in different directions. Everything she said runs around my head, but I can’t help thinking she’s living in a dreamland. She knows love and romance aren’t like that. That’s how she found herself here in the first place.
I don’t remember my journey home, or my shower once I get there. I know it won’t help, but I pull his letter from my purse before falling onto my bed with it. I read his words over and over, hoping they’ll give me strength to make the right decision.
I must fall asleep at some point because when I wake a few hours later, it’s with his letter stuck to my cheek, the ink smudged from my tears.
I don’t read it again. Instead, I fold it up and stuff it back into the envelope. This whole thing is crazy.
It’s utterly insane to even consider it.
I go about my usual daily routine before I have to start getting ready for work once again. I don’t see Ireland, although I do hear her snoring. That’s probably a good thing. I don’t need anyone else’s advice.
As I stare at myself in the mirror, I know I’ve made the right decision. I’ve got a plan. I know where I want my life to go, and suddenly moving to London isn’t part of it.
Harrison
I knew it was a long shot, but never seeing her again isn’t an option. I hated leaving like I did, but I had no choice. When I saw the next flight had a seat, I had to be on it. I was desperate to have her by my side, but I knew it was impossible—not that I thought Zack handing her a plane ticket the next day would be any better, but I had to try.
I can’t help but hope as I stand and watch passengers walk out through the arrivals gate at Heathrow. I watch as people are reunited with loved ones waiting for them. I have to swallow down my anxiety that at any moment she could walk towards me.
She never does.
Summer
Two weeks later
I’ve been on autopilot since Harrison upped and left. I refused to take my allocated day off, and worked it. If I sit at home, all I do is think, and that’s dangerous. I start to wonder if I made the right decision. What would I be doing right now if I were in London with him? It’s pointless trying to dissect it. I made my bed, now I’ve got to lie in it. I’d rather continue serving guys drinks until I have enough money in the bank to do what I want to do. Well, that’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.
Tonight’s shift is just like any other. My customers attempt to chat me up like I should be interested in them just because I’m serving their drinks. The other girls around me flirt back, knowing it’ll earn them extra tips. I was always useless at the flirting part of this job, but since meeting Harrison, I’m even worse at it. It reminds me of the person I was when I was with him. The kind of person I want to be.
“SUMMER,” Ireland calls from the other end of the bar and waves me over. “I’ve just had a call from Max. You need to take two manhattans up to the Kensington suite.
“What?” We don’t do room service.
“That’s what I was told,” she says with a shrug, a cheeky smile and a wink.
I quickly go about getting the drinks so I can get it over with. I’m going to be seriously pissed off if I get up there to find some sleazebag waiting for me.
I feel sick by the time I step out of the elevator. I don’t trust Max as far as I can throw him. He treats us all like objects whose only use is to look pretty and make him money, so I’ve no doubt he’d send me up here for something untoward.
I let out a breath and square my shoulders when I’m stood in front of the door, praying this isn’t going to be a huge mistake on my part.
I reach up and knock. What I’m not expecting is for it to open with my gentle force.
“Hello,” I call through the small gap. “I’ve got your drinks.”
I get no response, but the soft music and flickering candlelight inside catch my attention.
I stand and argue with myself for a minute or two. Do I leave the tray out here? Do I knock again? I was under the impression they were expecting me.
In the end, I decide to push the door a little farther open, knowing there’s a table in the entry way
I can place them on, and then leave. Maybe that was their intention.
I place it down quietly as I wonder what’s going on in the room beyond. It looks like it should be a romantic paradise, and I can’t help thoughts of Harrison popping into my head.
Sadness washes through me as I let out a breath and turn to leave, but some movement by the doorway leading to the suite catches my eye.
When I turn to look, my chin drops and my eyes widen in shock.
Stood in the doorway with his shirt unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up and his hair a mess is Harrison.
My heart starts to race as a range of emotions battle against each other. Anger that he left the way he did. Frustration because I haven’t been able to get him out of my head no matter how hard I’ve tried, and I’ve missed him so damn much. Lust and desire because it seems he still affects me just like he did before. My muscles twitch with my need to run at him, to be wrapped in his arms and remember exactly how he smells, but the anger within me keeps me rooted to the spot.
“Summer,” he whispers, but it’s not in surprise. He planned this. His eyes are soft, begging me to come to him, to let go of what’s keeping us apart.
Thoughts of what’s going to happen when I do inevitably cave to my need for him flood my brain. Is this it? By going to him, am I agreeing to go to London with him? What about my life here?
Deciding everything outside this moment doesn’t matter, I go to take a step forward. His chest heaves as he moves towards me at the same time. Then, his hands are in my hair and his lips are pressed against mine. I moan the second he touches me and I lean into him as his taste explodes in my mouth. His hands grab my ass and he lifts me as he stumbles back until he hits the wall with a thud. Neither of us attempts to part. Our tongues duel as I push the cotton from his shoulders.
His Manhattan: A British Billionaire Romance (The Cocktail Girls) Page 6