by Lee, Corri
“What the hell are you doing to my bar?” Shona and I exchanged glances of gleeful guilt and spun around to drench our gate crasher.
Adam and Cole ducked behind Bethany, who guarded herself with her handbag. “Oh my god, my Louis Vuitton!”
“Relax!” I snorted, “it’s leather.”
“Epi leather!”
I shook my head and laughed at her doting over her bag in a frenzy. “It’s still bloody waterproof! Your ignorance scares me sometimes- I can’t believe you have a degree.”
“Hah.”
“Drop your weapon, Douglas!” I lowered the soda gun to the bar and raised my hands in a deceptive surrender. Cole poked his head over Bethany’s shoulder and smirked. “Now back away.”
I felt the impish glint hit my eyes as I stepped back one pace. When Cole and Adam emerged from their hiding place, I made a grab for the soda gun again and sprayed them relentlessly with a burst of maniacal laughter. “You’ll never take me alive, Fiore!” Adam darted in front of the line of fire and snatched the soda gun from my hand. “How noble- taking a bullet for your best friend.”
“He should be so bloody lucky.”
I took a breath to regain my composure and sighed with a grin. “Drink, sir?”
The night became a repulsive display of soft core pornography at the hands of Bethany and Adam. Shona and I groaned in disgust and considered prizing them apart with a pool cue, but if Bethany was attached Adam’s face, she wasn’t probing me over my meeting with Mr Alexander or my impending date with Cole. Not that Cole knew that I was going to accept his invitation yet.
“So, how was your meeting with Nathaniel Alexander?” I blinked at him vacantly before my brain registered that he’d spoken.
“Sorry, what?” My mind was teeming with the alterations I could make to my novel and the concept of ‘calculated risks’.
“Your meeting with Alexander.”
I winced apologetically. “Sorry. Yes, the meeting was great. He’s very good at his job.” Not like I could relate to the plot anyway without his guidance. “He’s actually very level headed and normal- even if his methods are a little unorthodox.”
“Unorthodox?” It didn’t seem appropriate to divulge the details of Mr Alexander’s request for me to attend the meeting with my underwear to a potential lover.
“He’s recreating scenes of my book to give me a greater insight into the emotions they would create. It’s certainly an effective method.” I could hear the cogs grinding in Cole’s head as he processed my words. I could already tell how this conversation was going to pan out and I was in no mood to provide a blow by blow synopsis of my novel for a man who specialised in law. I put an immediate stop to his musing. “He told me I should give you a chance to dazzle me.”
Cole raised an eyebrow and the grinding clearly ground to a standstill. “Oh really? Does that mean you’ll be joining me on the Thames tomorrow? It would be awfully lonely on my own.”
“I daresay that I will be, Cole.” His eyes brightened- I had clearly made his evening.
My head drooped against his shoulder as we passed the London Eye. I was still flagging from my self-inflicted weekend of fatigue which had extended into the previous night. My meeting with Mr Alexander still buzzed around in my head and the fact that he couldn’t answer ‘why me?’ posed further questions. What was he thinking when he found that we had the same eyes? What made him so desperate to talk to me afterwards? What did I have that made him want to work so hard to lead me into the limelight?
Cole draped an arm around my shoulders and swept the hair from my eyes. There was something in that moment that I didn’t want to resist- this was comfortable and I should have seen that coming. What sane woman wouldn’t want to be swept into the arms of a gorgeous man who would move heaven and earth for the opportunity to spend a single lunch time in her company? Plus he had the advantage of a billionaire rooting for him, urging me to spare him of my needs and requirements just this once.
I stifled a yawn and sat up straight to stretch the stiffness from the muscles in my back and shoulders. Cole ran a hand across my lower back and leaned forward to pour me a glass of wine. “Thank you for agreeing to this, Cecelia.”
I took the glass he held out to me and heaved a sigh. Maybe I really had been too hostile with him- he had been trying to win my attention for over a year. “It’s entirely possible that I may be guilty of failing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I’ve known too many men who felt that free access to my affection should be a god given right and not something to be earned.” I held up a finger to prevent him from interrupting me. “But I think you’ve proven your point that you’re not just looking to get your leg over. It’s just hard to believe that someone like you would be willing to put this much effort into pursuing someone like me.”
He batted my finger away and scowled at me. “ ‘Someone like me’? What the hell does that mean?”
“In regards to whom?”
“Both of us.” I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my wine. A rough end to my teens and unsavoury entry into my twenties had left its mark, and I was certainly not the hot piece of ass I imagined he preferred.
“Casanova chasing after Rumplestiltskin.” I shrugged at his incredulous scoff. “It’s hard not to lack confidence when you live with the girl next door.”
Cole rolled his eyes at me and pulled me back into the warm snug of his arms. “There’s a reason why Bethany can’t pin down a long term partner, and the whole girl next door image is precisely why. Where’s the challenge when she looks so-…” I leaned up to look at him, brow arched and eager to hear how he planned to complete his sentence. “… Easy, Cecelia. Bethany comes across as a bit of a man-eater. This is the twenty-first century- men are as eager to find their soul mates as women now. I’m sure she’s a great person when you get to know her but she just tries too hard to flirt her way into a guy’s bed.”
“Wow.” I shook my head in disbelief at the unexpected glimpse into the male mentality. “I sure as hell won’t be repeating that sentiment to her.”
“Yeah I can’t say I’d recommend that you do. I like being attached to my manhood.”
I stared out across the river and, as Mr Alexander had recommended, I considered what I really stood to lose by waiving my unforgiving male screening process for once. Cole was attractive, well mannered, apparently genuine and obviously besotted- all I stood to lose was a small portion of my abundance of spare time. “Alright,” I sighed, “you’ve worn me down. Romance the hell out of me.”
“Really?” I wrinkled my nose at the victorious sparkle in his eyes.
“Jesus, Cole, you could look a little happier.” He cupped my face in his hands and gazed at me with his adoring soft brown eyes.
“You won’t regret this.” He pressed his lips to mine and kissed me- deeper than his sweeping Hollywood kiss yet quietly reserved, like he was too scared to unleash the full force of his passion. Not once did his tongue attempt to make an unwelcome intrusion beyond my lips. This simple display of deep respect and not pushing his luck was humbling, but I felt bereft of the surge of emotion I associated with moments like these. There were no sparks between us. Not yet.
Bethany and I were slow dancing to UB40 when Cole arrived at the bar that evening. I felt no rush for knowing that he was mine, but honoured him with a smile and offered my lips for a kiss when he lifted himself up onto a stool at the bar. Having not been yet informed of the outcome of our lunch time cruise, Bethany reacted. Of course she reacted.
“Hello? Is this some sort of new international greeting which I wasn’t told about, or did something happen at lunch time?” I flared my nostrils at her and willed her to fall silent, but instead she raised a hand aloft to Cole to initiate a high-five. “Alright, Fiore! Now you’ve defrosted the cold front you can work on clearing the cobwebs, if you get my drift.”
I flashed my cattiest sneer and snarled a fake laugh. “Aha. Stop talking.”
She put her hands on her hips a
nd fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh please, we both know you’d feel a lot better when he-…”
“Oh my god, why won’t you stop talking?” I could feel my face beginning to flame.
“What? It’s been two years since you last-…”
“Oh my god, Bethany, you’re fucking killing me here!” I spun around and made a grab at her ribs, intending to utilise one of only two methods known to instil silence in this infuriating woman- tickling. Being female made me ill equipped to utilise the other known method, and I had witnessed first had that it only served to muffle her nonsense.
She shrieked shrilly and darted to the opposite end of the bar. “Alright, I’ll stop telling him you’re frigid!”
I was ready to spit venom when Cole spoke. “Two years? Oh well, that makes me feel better.”
“What?”
“Well it means I’m not the only one who’s been given the brush off.” I cradled my head in my hands and sought refuge in my ‘happy place’. What the hell had I done to deserve being at the centre of a conversation like this?
My embarrassment was diffused by a collective rumble of gossip and surprised gasps from around the lounge. I raised my head to find a courier approaching me with a large heavenly scented bouquet of red tulips and white roses, and a card standing in a silver pin between their stems.
Acquaint yourself with sloth.
Leave your laptop at home, or else.
I was momentarily baffled by the informal sentiment of ‘or else’ when the courier passed me an envelope sealed with a red wax seal, emblazoned with an elaborate letter A. And there’s the formality. Bethany peered over my shoulder and murmured inquisitively.
“Extravagant bastard, isn’t he?” I tried to push the word ‘extravagant’ out of my mind, knowing the connotations it held for me, and cracked the seal. It seemed almost impolite to ruin something so modestly beautiful, and for some inexplicable reason, the wildly romantic vision of Nathaniel Alexander brooding over his desk burning a candle to seal the envelope haunted my thoughts. “Are you going to open it?”
I shook myself back into my senses and removed a card from the envelope. What had possessed my mind to travel in such a direction? I smoothed an indiscriminate crease from my forehead as I read.
My driver will collect you from the spa and take you to The Langham Hotel. Pack nothing but spare clothes. Bring your sloth. NO LAPTOPS.
“Holy shit, The Langham?” Bethany choked out a gasp behind me. “That place is like hotel utopia. I hate you so fucking much right now.” I swatted her away from my shoulder and shook my head.
“He’s got to be taking the piss.” I tugged my phone from my pocket and wandered into the cellar. I knew how expensive The Langham Hotel was and it made me uncomfortable. I filtered through my recent calls list, making a mental note to save his numbers to my phone book, and cursed as I waited for my call to be answered.
“Miss Douglas.” His silky smooth voice knocked away some of my anger, but I quickly regrouped.
“The Langham?”
“Yes?”
“Are you insane? That place costs a-…” I rolled my eyes at myself and swore under my breath. The cost of a hotel room wasn’t even as much as a drop in the ocean for him. “It’s too much. I can be slovenly at home.”
There was the chink of glass and the clatter of china before he answered. “But you won’t, will you? You’ll be at your laptop in a heartbeat or racing to your bar to mop up sweat and spilt liquor.” I hated that he had known me for such a short time but knew me so well. “Go to the spa, then go to your all expenses paid hotel suite- lounge around in silk negligee, order room service and don’t do a damned productive thing until you wake up on Thursday.”
“I don’t understand why you’re going to the expense of putting me up in some swanky hotel.” He sighed and I heard the sound of wood scrapping on wood.
“I have my reasons. You work too hard and you’re going to burn out if you don’t take a night off. And isn’t there a scenario similar to this in your novel? If the idea of generosity bothers you so, consider it as sponsored creative research. You’ll relax when you’re there. You will enjoy it.” There wasn’t a shred of doubt in my mind that his words were an order. I dug down into an unrecognisable corner of my spirit that could express remorseless gratitude.
“Thank you, Mr Alexander.”
“No laptop. I’ll have it confiscated if you’re found with it.” There was an inflection of humour in his voice but it was perfectly clear that he wasn’t joking. I held my phone against my forehead in frustration before I strayed back out to the bar.
Bethany stared at me eagerly and waved her hands in a get-on-with-it gesture. “Well?”
I threw my phone down and shrugged. “Sponsored creative research. I wrote about expensive hotels and that’s exactly what I’m getting. Nathaniel Alexander- my fairy-fucking-godmother.”
“So he gives you everything you write about?” Our heads snapped around to Cole when he spoke. His face was severe, and already I could tell that he was feeling territorial. But I was not this territory.
I shook my head and secretly wished that I’d stuck to my guns. “Only the things that coordinate with an area that needs improving. I mean, I doubt he’s going to be buying me a queening stool any time soon.” Cole’s jaw dropped and an impression of shock mingled with curiosity crept across his features. “Oh my god, Cole, I was joking. It’s not that kind of novel. But at least I know where you stand on the issue of female dominance.”
“Never say never, Cecelia.” Cole and Bethany both laughed as I blushed violently- my joke twisted back on me and playing against me. “Seriously though, I have to read the novel that is scoring you all this amazing free stuff and personal mentoring with one of the richest guys on the planet. It’s got to be good.” I stammered uneasily.
“Yes.” It was Bethany who spoke, not me. “I’ll get it emailed to you.” I gave her my what-the-hell glare and she dismissed it with the wave of a hand. “Cici needs more people to tell her how awesome she is.”
I certainly did not. That was the last thing I needed.
Chapter Seven
I groaned at the immense menu of available treatments at the Alexander Health Spa. It was all so superfluous and shallow- vanity wasn’t something which I could relate to. Clearly this pampering experience was supposed to lull me into a state of total relaxation in preparation for my night of sloth at The Langham Hotel, but there wasn’t a single moment of it that set me at ease.
The spa itself was a reflection of Alexander Publishing House- white walled, black floored and immaculate. Every seat was rounded and upholstered in plush vermillion suede, and the walls were dotted with grand wall mounted aquariums holding swarms of neon tetra and seahorses. Every employee wore a neatly fitted black tunic and carried the same unspoken hostility that could be found in the publishing house’s Russian receptionist.
Bethany, of course, was in her element as the type of woman who lived to be plucked, man handled and wrapped in seaweed. Sometimes it baffled me how I’d come to live with my polar opposite, but then I remembered the beautifully warm-hearted woman that lay beyond the hair extensions and acrylic nails. When my parents died, Bethany was the only person who encouraged me to live- to pull myself away from the thick vodka fuelled fog that clouded my judgment and mourn their passing productively. My parents wouldn’t have wanted me to have been so miserable when they died so blissfully happy, and she made me understand that, to a certain degree. She switched me back off self-destruct mode and fed, housed and clothed me until I found the townhouse. To some effect, I would always be indebted to her.
She glanced sideways at me through a tousle of white blonde hair and rolled her eyes. “You’re reminiscing about how awesome I am again. Stop it, and spend the billionaire’s money.”
I smiled at her warmly and jabbed her in the side. “It’s hardly costing him anything.” She looked at me blankly for a moment and shook her head, looking for an explanation. “He ow
ns the bloody spa, Bethy! He isn’t paying for a single thing.”
“Oh well, in that case I’ll have one of everything.” She laughed and threw the menu down. “We both will. Even Mr Alexander knew you’d feel like you’d walked into Hell when you got here, so I have jurisdiction over your treatments.” I groaned and grimaced. This was never going to go well.
“You have got to be joking!” I stormed from a treatment room wrapped in a thick white robe with Bethany creased up in hysterical laughter. “I’ve been soaked in mud, smeared in chocolate, scrubbed with honey, wrapped in seaweed, exposed myself to no less than six women, and now you want me to have a bikini wax? You’re off your rocker, Marshall.” She struggled to reply through her laughter- I was positively sick with fury at how hilarious this was to her.
“Come on, Cici! I’ll be right there with you. We’ll get the deforestation out of the way and then its full steam ahead to unhindered relaxation and indulgence. There’s champagne.” I narrowed my eyes- she knew that the mention of alcohol would pacify me.
I growled at her and bared my teeth. “How dare you coerce me with my kryptonite? You are going to owe me several very large and very expensive drinks.” I begrudgingly held out my hand and was promptly yanked back into the treatment room.
I may have scared birds from the trees and woken sleeping babies in Australia with my screams. I knew that the experience wouldn’t be pleasant, but coupled with the mortification of being stripped bare with my legs akimbo and the added insult of eyebrow and upper lip threading, the torture was deadly. I limped out of the treatment room as hairless as a sphynx cat and slapped Bethany around the arms with a grim expression. “Why the hell did you tell them to give me a Hollywood?”