~
The day seems to fly by, and actually, the team with the three assistants that have been hired pull the day off to perfection. This was totally expected by Belle. I was far less optimistic about the day’s events. However, with a great deal of will and determination we’ve manage to stave off the incredible hangovers we are all suffering from and also deliver the bride’s faultless day.
The newly appointed Lady Torrington sashays into the kitchen around eight-thirty in the evening to congratulate us all on a fabulous day and gives us all a bunch of flowers. So sweet really, to think of your caterers on your big day. I ’m very surprised, but Belle simply smiles sweetly and nods as if there was never any question of excellence. We leave shortly after that, grinning from ear to ear and feeling happy but extremely tired.
As we walk into the apartment, Teresa heads straight over to the fridge and grabs a fresh bottle of white wine and three glasses. Belle slumps straight onto the sofa as I move toward the chair and Teresa starts to pour the wine
“You ladies mind if I crash here tonight? I cannot be arsed to get the tube home now,” she asks.
“God no, the spare room’s ready to go. Besides, we have to catch up on last night,” Belle responds.
“I can’t believe today went so well,” I say, ripping off my boots and launching them behind the chair.
“There is nothing we can’t achieve together,” Belle replies, smiling with her eyes firmly shut. “I think that’s a quote,” she continues to muse as she stretches out her legs.
“Well, I say we give ourselves a huge pat on the back. We pulled it off with style and no one was any the wiser that we were all still shitfaced from last night,” Teresa states, glugging back her wine.
“Cheers,” we all chime in together.
“Talking about last night, did anyone notice the utter sexpot that was standing behind the bar with Conner Avery?” Teresa asks.
“Oh, God, do we have to talk about him again?” Belle groans, reaching for the wine bottle.
“No, I’m not talking about him, although I can’t believe you don’t want him. He can have me any day. The man’s utterly gorgeous, even with blue hair. No, I mean the guy he was talking with across the bar for a while,” she continues, leaning forward across the breakfast bar and giggling.
“He was probably a new barman,” I chirp in.
“No, definitely not. He was far too well dressed. Dark brown Armani suit, and his shoes were worth more than the barman makes in a month I should think. His eyes were the most stunning pools of icy blue liquid I’ve ever seen. I was salivating. Honestly, it was all I could do to stop myself from launching over the bar at him and screaming take me now,” she says, sighing and staring wistfully up at the ceiling.
“Well that would have been interesting. So not you at all,” I laugh as I pop my feet up onto the coffee table and get comfortable.
“Yes, Teresa, I don’t recall ever watching you throw yourself over a bar on purpose before. Obviously we all remember you doing it accidently though,” Belle joins in, chuckling.
“Sod off, ladies. You know that wasn’t my fault,” she responds with a frown.
“No, of course not. You most definitely just fell off the bar while grinding onto Mr Blonde’s knee. I still can’t believe you did that.” Tears begin to run down my face at the thought.
“In my defence, I was very drunk. I haven’t done it since and won’t be doing it again anytime soon.”
“Oh, feel free to do it again as soon as you want. It was the most entertaining moment of my life,” I remark, trying desperately to contain my hysterics.
“Well, anyway, I have to find out who he was. Black hair, blue eyes and an arse so yummy I would eat breakfast off it. The suit was cut to perfection and there was just something about his demeanour. So arrogant and yet so smooth. I just wanted to be whipped away and never rescued. Mike went to hit him for some reason and he just threw him to the floor as if he were an insect or something. Very appealing. If you’d have seen him you would have felt it, too,” she says, returning to her far away state.
“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so dreamy before. Maybe he was a new bouncer?” I question with a smirk, having just about contained my giggles.
“Ooh, I forgot to tell you. I had a call today from Louisa Trembell. She’s something to do with the White Buildings in town and we’ve got a meeting set up for Monday to bid for their catering. If it comes off, it’ll be a gold mine. Just what we need,” Belle interjects, raising her glass.
“Wow, that’s a bit of good luck,” I exclaim.
“Isn’t it? She said she’d been given my number by a good friend who had recommended us very highly,” Belle responds.
“Any ideas who?” Teresa asks.
“No. As far as I’m aware, I don’t have any connections to Miss Trembell. Mind you, it’s a small world so I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.” Belle laughs.
“Well, we’re not looking a gift horse in the mouth. We just have to win the contract now. Belle, I’m sure you’ll do a fantastic job. But, honestly, I can’t see how we can do much more cooking in that kitchen. It’s far too small. That sort of regular contract will push us past our limits at the current location,” I say with a small frown, thinking of my sweet but completely not acceptable any more kitchen.
“You’re right, and maybe after this meeting we’ll be able to go to the bank.”
“Ooh how exciting. Do I get to come with you to the new shop?” Teresa chimes in.
“Do you think we’d leave without you?” I reply with a genuine smile. As if my life could be happy without her in it every day.
We all smile warmly at each other and proceed to chat into the early hours. Tomorrow is Sunday and that means a lie in, a happy breakfast, a gossip and coffee all day. Life couldn’t get any better really. I smile at my sister and best friend while they chat about everything and anything and I feel completely comfortable in my skin. I’ve had a great night and day with the people I love, and as I watch them, I know we will never change. Life will move forward and alter its course, but the three of us will always remain strong together. We are all rocks of stability for each other, constantly helping out with varying issues or dilemmas, our own varying strengths and weaknesses complementing each other in a way that only the closest of friends can ever achieve. That has always been and will remain the most important thing to me - friendship. Relationships will come and go but no man will ever know me as they do. I’ll never be able to open up to a man with such complete abandon. My girls simply know me inside out, and I them. They don’t even need to speak and I can tell how they feel. I can see it in their movements and appearance. I adore the relaxed mood that we can create around each other through times of stress and turmoil, or the sense of excitement that we can produce if we are all inclined to.
Yes, life is good and we all know it.
“Well I, for one, am pooped,” I say, yawning and stretching my arms above my head.
“Looks like you’re ready for bed, young lady,” Belle says as she heads to the sink. “I think we all are. It’s been a fucking long day and I am exhausted.”
“Yep, I can’t keep my eyes open anymore,” Teresa replies as she waves her hand and wanders off to the spare room. “Night, all.”
Belle and I nod at each other and go our separate ways, to our beds and our duvets and our dreams.
~
Sunday morning comes round in a slow and easy manner and soon we’re all laughing around the kitchen table about another indiscretion Teresa involved herself in a few weeks earlier. She is undeniably a girl who can get herself into a tight spot without any degree of difficulty. Fortunately, she usually seems to be able to wrangle her way out of it with the same ease. Belle continues to talk about the possible White Contract with a grit and determination I haven’t seen for a while, but bizarrely she appears to be a little nervous, unsure of herself even.
“Belle, are you okay? You seem anxious about this mee
ting,” I ask.
“Of course I’m fucking anxious, Beth. Do you know anything about the White Building? It’s… It’s... The fucking White Building,” she snaps at me. I recoil instantly.
“Okay, calm down, honey,” Teresa soothes.
“I’m sorry. It’s just… I’ve never done anything this big. Christ, do you know how much these types of people make in an hour? Even I’m a little intimidated by their wealth, and frankly, we’ve never catered to this level. I don’t know if I can pull it off,” she stammers. I stare at her in shock. If she’s worried then perhaps we all should be.
“Of course you can, Belle. You’ve never let yourself down, and I couldn’t think of a more appropriate person to put in a room full of those types as you so aptly put it,” I say with a rub to her shoulder.
“Alexander White is not someone I can just wing my way through, Beth. I need to be completely prepared for him.”
“You didn’t say you were meeting him. You said Miss Trembell.”
“But what if he’s there?”
“I doubt someone like Alexander White will be hosting a meeting regarding company lunches, Belle. I’m sure he’ll leave that to other people,” Teresa states, quite rightly.
“Tell you what, let’s Google him, see what we can find out,” I interject. “We’ll grab our stuff, head down to the coffee shop and go from there. I’m sure we can find a way to make you feel more comfortable about it.”
“Good plan, Beth. Always the planner,” Teresa agrees enthusiastically.
“Okay, sorry girls. I’m just wound a bit tight about it, that’s all. Its major league stuff and I’m really concerned. It’s such a big thing for us.”
“Well let’s go and get you some fire power then, shall we?” I reply with a smile as I head to my room to find my boots. He’s only a man for God’s sake. I’m sure we’ll be fine.
~
For October it’s a surprisingly nice day, crisp and cold, and at least it isn’t raining again as we stroll arm in arm along the street to the coffee shop that we so often frequent. The traffic is quiet because it’s Sunday and it gives that slightly odd feeling to the otherwise loud and hectic London streets. I love Sundays - my one day of the week to relax a little and do something other than cook, and thankfully, it’s an absolute necessity that everything is take out on Sunday.
I usher the girls into the coffee shop and go to the counter to order the drinks and pastries. It’s the same standing order as it always has been for the three of us. A double macchiato for Belle with a chocolate twist, cappuccino with nutmeg sprinkles and a chocolate brownie for Teresa and a vanilla latte with a cinnamon swirl for me. I pay Tristan with a smile and take the tray over to the girls.
“Oh my fucking god, that’s him,” Teresa shouts at the screen. I almost drop the tray at her outburst.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Belle questions.
“That’s him, Mr. Sexpot from INK,” she says, pointing at the screen.
“No, honey, that’s Alexander White. He would not be behind the bar at INK,” Belle retorts, laughing.
“I would never forget that face, Belle. I’m telling you. Holy shit, you’re going to meet him,” she screams, clapping her hands together like a child.
“Could someone show me what’s going on?” I ask, giggling with them, completely oblivious.
“Just look at this. Actually, I’m not sure if you should look. You might faint or something.”
“Just turn the screen round, you idiot.” I glare at her as she turns it towards me.
Oh. My. God.
I just gape at the vision of sexiness smiling at me from the screen. Open-mouth stare.
He is the most striking man I’ve ever seen in my life. Jet black hair that very nearly tickles his collar with that messed up look about it. Light-blue eyes that seem to draw me towards them somehow with their mesmerising and icy cold gaze, like you know you would be playing with the unattainable and probably bloody dangerous but you’d be willing to give him anything anyway. A smile that very nearly brings me to my knees and has me drooling like a hungry puppy, and a stance that exudes a confidence that definitely needs no explanation. I skim my eyes over the length of him, barely containing the drool as I digest his broad shoulders and long legs looking lean under a tailored black suit. His hands are in the pockets, and the open white collar shows off his incredibly sexy neck and jaw line to perfection. I’m seriously struggling to know where to look next.
Unfortunately, my eyes hover over his crotch area so I lift them again to meet his and almost feel my insides melt under his gaze. Even from the screen it seems like he’s entering my deepest thoughts. My thighs have begun trembling or something. I have no idea what the hell that’s about and I can’t help but lick my lips as I look back towards his mouth again where there’s a long, wide, enigmatic smile that lifts slightly more at one side, giving a slight hint of amusement. He’s looking sideways at the camera with a woman draped over him who’s equally as stunning. They make quite the dashing couple. He looks like a runway model, the Greek God of casual style and he knows it.
“Oh my...” I say, still open-mouthed.
“Exactly,” Teresa agrees fanning herself. “I did try to tell you.”
“That is quite unfair, ladies, and you are not helping at all,” Belle remarks.
“I know, Belle, but good god, why didn’t you say something? How the hell does a woman present a decent pitch with those eyes looking at her? I wouldn’t be able to speak, let alone sell,” Teresa states, quite rightly.
“Well I’m not going to back out of a meeting because the guy happens to be reasonably handsome. It’s his profile I’m more worried about. Have you seen the write up on his businesses? He appears to own half the bloody world and is both loved and loathed because of it. He’s been known to bring companies to their knees by challenging them through the courts. Some chap called Tate Westfield runs his law department and he’s apparently the devil incarnate. He dabbles in the casino and entertainment sector but doesn’t like to gamble too much. Most of his capital has been made through acquisition or asset stripping. He also owns a ridiculous amount of property, private and commercial. He does most of his dealings in either the States or the Far East, got in there about eight years ago. He must have seen that boom coming, or he created it; I’m not sure which. He’s been at the top of his game for the last four years with several million between him and his next viable competitor, and if all that’s not scary enough, it seems he donates ridiculous amounts of money to various charities and institutions each year,” Belle explains, occasionally sipping her coffee.
“So what you’re saying is that he’s a cutthroat bastard who likes to appear the hero? How very charming of him.” I smirk.
“I still can’t get past reasonably handsome. At what point do you call that reasonably handsome?” Teresa almost shouts, knocking over her coffee. “Oh, shit. Even my bloody hands are shaking.”
“Teresa, have you not heard a word I’ve been saying? The guy is a fucking machine. He gets whatever he wants by going through whatever he needs to and doesn’t take any prisoners. That’s not attractive; that is a pure business brain on a killing spree. There is no sweet and well-mannered in those eyes or fingers I dare say. They’re meant for pure butchery,” Belle says.
“I know, but look at that backside, and why did you mention those fingers?” Teresa replies dreamily, making my eyes swing to his hands, which I have to say look incredibly inviting - strong, and given my sister’s explanation, probably very precise. My inner slut leaps at the thought, so I chastise my own ridiculousness and look across at Belle.
“Well, I think he’s probably a complete arsehole, granted a very cute one, but no one who operates at that level can be a very nice person. He’s probably a complete control freak who has to spank his employees and I’m sure he donates to charities simply to give out a decent appearance. He probably doesn’t even know who he gives money to. In fact, I’m sure that is how y
ou need to approach the meeting. Think of him as an unworthy opponent, someone who simply needs a bit of sucking up to and flirtation and he’ll be putty in your hands,” I declare, while secretly continuing with my absurd panting for the man on the screen, who appears to become even more attractive as we speak. There’s a damn hotline to my groin or something, and he’s still looking at me as if I’m not allowed to remove myself from his gaze.
“I’m not sure a bit of flirtation is going to work, honey,” Belle says with a frown.
“Well why not? Just go in and picture him naked,” Teresa chimes in. “That’ll definitely get the flirtation level up.”
“Really, ladies, I don’t think I can go with either option but at least you’ve made me laugh about him. Maybe if I just keep it light and breezy, I won’t let myself get drawn into a death stare.” Belle laughs.
“Oh, I think I’d quite like a good death stare from him. Actually, I think I’d give him anything he asked for.” Teresa smiles as she plays with her hair. I can’t stop my eyes from rolling - such a princess.
“Belle, honey, you’re going to be great. Hopefully he won’t even be there and none of this will matter. You said that Miss Trembell sounded very efficient and I’m sure she just wants to know the facts and figures, which you know like the back of your hand, so please stop worrying about it,” I reply with complete sincerity, flicking my eyes to the screen again. I’m pathetic, I know, but honestly, I can’t think of anything other than his bloody hands all of a sudden.
“Well we’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we? It’s a one o’clock meeting so I just need to take a few sample platters in so they can have a taste.”
“That’s fine, honey. We can knock up something fabulous in the morning. You’ll get a taxi there and before you know it, you’ll be back, contract in hand,” I say as I sit back, Mr. Reasonably Handsome having now timed out on the screen, thank the lord.
Seeing White Page 6