“Okay, Mr. Sinclair,” she said cheekily, forcing a grin, “safe travels. Let’s go Joseph. I need to get to the office on the way home and it’ll be closing soon.”
“I’ll call you the moment I land,” Simon replied.
Shooting him a wink, she walked to the door, Joseph close behind. The desire to look over her shoulder was almost more than she could bear, and the sound of the door closing behind her sent a wave of sadness cascading through her heart, like a cold waterfall on a gloomy day. Gritting her teeth and taking large gulps from her water bottle, she managed to hold it together until she was seated in the car, but when Joseph started out the driveway, a fissure appeared in the dam, and the tears began to flow.
“Belle,” Joseph said kindly, “I know this is none of my business, and I don’t mean to overstep, but I have a feeling he’s just as sad about leaving you, as you are to see him go.”
“Maybe,” she sniffed. “It’s nice to think that but...”
“I’m certain of it,” Joseph declared. “I’ve seen how he looks at you. This morning at the office building I thought he was going to rip Robert Logan’s head off.”
Belled look across at him, a frown crossing her brow, suspending the flood of tears.
“Seriously?” she asked, somewhat aghast. “I didn’t notice anything.”
“Seriously,” Joseph replied. “I don’t know Mr. Sinclair very well, but I know the look a man has in his eye when he’s–hmmm–how can I put this? Jealous might be the word. All I know is he didn’t like you laughing and flirting with another man.”
“I wasn’t flirting,” Belle blurted out. “Not at all.”
“Probably not, but I think that’s how he read it,” Joseph remarked, and for just a moment took his eyes off the road to stare at her intently in the rear view mirror. “It’s obvious he cares for you a great deal.”
Belle stared back as his words sank in, then let her gaze drift out her window as they made their way down Sunset Blvd towards Beverly Hills. The short conversation had helped. She owed Joseph Cardinelli another debt of gratitude.
“Where’s your office?” he asked, pleased she had stopped crying and glad his words had been of some comfort.
“Oh–sorry. Just off Santa Monica Blvd on Roxbury,” she replied. “I’ll call Kelly–she’ll wait outside and can just hand me the envelope.”
“Great–I don’t fancy trying to park in Beverly Hills at this time of day.”
She made the quick call and dropped her phone back in her bag.
“There’s one other thing I need to discuss with you,” Joseph said. “Are you up to it?”
“Sure. It will help take my mind off things,” she replied, relieved to talk about something other than Simon’s departure.
“Mr. Sinclair has hired me to take your mother and sister on a tour of Los Angeles when they come into town. The usual places. Santa Monica, Malibu–and of course show them where the best shopping is.”
“He did? He didn’t tell me that,” she exclaimed, surprised by the news.
“I know. I think he wanted to avoid a debate,” Joseph grinned.
“Oh my gosh. He was right. I wouldn’t wish them on anyone, especially not you,” she sighed.
“He did mention your sister could be difficult, or at least you had told him that.”
“Difficult doesn’t begin to describe her,” Belle answered, rolling her eyes.
“He wanted you relieved of the duty, and I’m happy to oblige. When you know they’re here just get in touch and give me their contact info.”
“Lord! I’m sure you must have better things to do with your time than run my spoiled brat sister around town.”
“She can’t be that bad,” Joseph remarked.
“You’ll find out. Mind you, you probably won’t notice. Men usually don’t. They’re too busy gawking at her.”
“I’m not a gawker,” Joseph laughed, “and LA is filled with beautiful girls.”
“Not like her. Imagine Kate Upton is a 5, and my sister is a 10. My mom says she’s the next Bridgette Bardot or even Marilyn Monroe”
Joseph whistled his response as he pulled into the red-painted curb outside Belle’s office. A young woman ran up to the car and handed Belle an envelope. Thanking her profusely, Belle asked her to let everyone know she was going out of town for a week or so, then closed the window as Joseph pulled back into traffic.
“That should stop my phone ringing,” she sighed, “and maybe Sean will hear about it.”
“Marilyn Monroe, eh?” Joseph remarked. “Your sister must be beautiful.
“Only on the outside,” Belle mumbled under her breath, but Joseph heard her and raised an eyebrow.
“Now I really do have to meet your sister, but don’t worry Belle, I know how to handle difficult young women.”
Something in his tone sent a little shiver up her spine. Not a bad shiver, a good, sexy shiver. Was it possible Joseph was of the same ilk as she and Simon? She glanced at his profile and couldn’t help but notice a slight curl at the edges of his mouth.
“Good luck with that,” was all she could think to say, and continued to open the envelope and ready the deposit for the ATM.
Back in his suite, Simon decided to take one last look around to make sure nothing had been left behind, and though he’d spent minimal time in Belle’s room, he decided to check in there as well.
But he knew it was just an excuse.
He was missing her already, and if he thought being around her things would alleviate the ache he was wrong. Standing in her bathroom, staring at her lotions and potions neatly lined up, looking into the shower where he had just witnessed her explosive euphoric orgasm, exacerbated the dull, unforgiving ache in his heart. When he had watched her leave, trying to be so brave and chipper, a heated torrent of emotion had surged inside him, so unnerving it forced him sit down. Now it was back, like an unwelcome burst of scorching, inescapable sun.
“What’s wrong with me?” he blurted out, dropping on to the side of the bed, his head in his hands.
“Mr. Sinclair–are you ready?”
It was Cecil’s voice calling from the living room. Simon stood up, shook himself, and started to the door, but a pink chiffon scarf draped over the back of a chair caught his attention. Instantly an image popped into his head. Belle was naked on his bed, a blindfold across her eyes, the scarf wrapped around her wrists pulling her arms above her head, tied to the custom-made headboard of his four-poster back in London.
The vision jolted him, and on an impulse he grabbed the scarf, wadding it up and stuffing it in his pocket as he walked out.
“Just making sure I have everything,” he said gruffly. “Where’s my briefcase?”
“By the door, Sir.”
“Please leave it–I’ll meet you at the car. Be there in a minute.”
Clearly his boss needed more time and privacy, so Cecil hurried out the door and made his way up the path to the driveway.
As soon as he was alone, Simon pulled the scarf from his pocket and brought it to his nose. Belle didn’t wear perfume, but the soft, subtle fragrance that was uniquely hers floated up from the gentle fabric, almost making his head spin. Folding it neatly he placed it in his briefcase, and after another quick glance around, stepped out to the walkway that would take him to his waiting car. He moved with long, purposeful strides, marching forward, attempting to regain some sense of control.
“Cecil, please sit up front with Parker. I need to make some private calls.” he said, approaching the stretch limousine.
“Of course, Mr. Sinclair,” Cecil replied, moving hastily, wondering why his boss was so out of sorts.
Parker opened the door and Simon slid into the plush, soft leather seat. As the door was closed, he couldn’t help but think back to the last time he’d been in this particular car, Belle on her knees before him...
Grabbing his cell phone he touched Tyler’s name. He knew it was in the early hours of the morning in London, but he didn’t care.
“Yep,” came the sleepy voice.
“I can’t get her out of my head. I’m leaving in an hour, and I can’t stand the fact that she’s not coming with me.”
He heard the muffled sound of Tyler’s wife in the background asking who was calling in the middle of the night.
“Hang on, Simon,” his friend mumbled, then some rustling, and a moment later, “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
“I don’t know who I am either,” Simon complained.
“You’ve never behaved this way about a woman as long as I’ve known you,” Tyler remarked, knowing he was stating the obvious, “and that’s a long time.”
“I don’t know if I can be with just one person. I mean, I never have,” Simon declared. “How do you do it? How do you stay faithful, or do you?”
“Let me ask you something,” Tyler said, in the middle of a yawn.
“Very well, I’m listening,” Simon said impatiently.
“Who are you seeing back here?”
“Chrissie Simington, Penelope Black, Maude–uh–what’s her name...a few others.”
“Now think very carefully before you answer my next question,” Tyler said dramatically.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“Can you imagine being with them now?”
Simon laid his head back, closing his eyes, already knowing the answer.
“No–I can’t imagine it. That is, I can, but I don’t want to be with any of them.”
“You just want to lay next to Belle Somers. Wake up next to Belle Somers. Come home to Belle Somers. Take Belle Somers to your country estate and share all it has to offer. Right?”
“Yes, dammit!” Simon admitted. “Yes!”
“I have two things to say to you before I go back to bed, and don’t call me again until you get here. First–if you don’t bring her back with you, you’re a bloody idiot. Second–I’ll repeat what I told you before, what my pop said, every man’s a playboy until he meets the right woman. Goodnight Simon...”
Simon dropped his arm down and stared at the wooden panel that separated him from the two men with whom he shared most of his waking hours. Parker, his bodyguard and chauffeur, and Cecil, his private secretary. Most evenings he’d call in one of a bevy of beauties as his mood dictated. On the odd occasion when he did get a refusal, there was always someone else to take her place.
But there was no-one who could take Belle’s place.
What if it doesn’t work? he thought. What then? What if I can’t be with just one woman? What if I pull her out of her life–take her away from her career–and one of us isn’t happy?
Simon thought about his meteoric rise to the top. He’d been hailed as a risk taker, a courageous entrepreneur, a man who never wavered in his determination to make things happen, who turned mud into gold through sheer brilliance and a gritty perseverance.
“Damn and blast!” he shouted.
Grabbing his phone he dialed Joseph.
In her apartment, Belle was searching her closet for a pair of summer sandals she’d not worn for some time. As she rummaged, she saw the familiar pink square box. It was where she kept her diaries, the ones she’d written off and on over the years. On an impulse she picked it up and lifted the lid. There were five small notebooks, each a different color. She had bought all five at the same time.
The first, the green one, had been dedicated to her early days in London, days when she would wander the streets and parks after school, exploring by herself. Each night she noted all the interesting and intriguing things that had crossed her path.
The second was for Furio. She had selected the red one for him. Red for passion and love, it seemed perfect at the time, and its pages carried more than just their week together. It was filled with her thoughts during the days that followed, days during which she wondered how she would survive. Private thoughts about the awakening of her previously unknown needs, his patience and kindness, and her belief that she would never find another like him.
Her last, the blue book, had been dedicated to Justin. She chose blue because he lived near the water in Santa Monica, and the pages were filled with her musings on the roller coaster ride that was their relationship. There were two more notebooks that had yet to realize pen on paper. One that was purple, the other black.
On an impulse she placed the box carefully in her suitcase. Days spent relaxing by the pool at the hotel, or wherever her time off might take her, would give her the chance to read them, reflect, and perhaps start another.
Moments later she found her sandals, and was closing up the thick black zipper of her bag when Joseph appeared in the doorway.
“Simon just called,” he announced, a wide grin on his face. “He said to make sure you have your passport. I’m taking you to the airport.”
The private and charter jets have a unique terminal at Los Angeles International Airport, somewhat removed from the main commercial hub. It was there Simon waited, orchestrating a later takeoff, while Cecil arranged for the hotel to pack everything Belle had left in the suite and have it rushed over by an express courier.
Whether she would board his jet was yet to be determined, but if she did, he wanted her to have her lotions and potions. He knew women needed their specific makeup and creams at hand, especially when traveling.
He could imagine Belle in the car on her way to meet him. He had no doubt her mind was racing, filled with questions, just as he was.
Would she want to board his jet and be whisked off to London? Maybe she really did want to help her mother and sister, regardless of her complaints, or perhaps she was looking forward to some time alone. Would she think him presumptuous having Joseph bring her, passport in hand, to the airport? If she did choose to fly off to London with him, what would she do all day while he was tied up in meetings, and how would she handle the enormous popularity he enjoyed with the opposite sex? Wherever they went, there would be a better than good chance they would run into a beautiful woman with whom he had shared his bed.
But when he saw the car pull to the front of the terminal, her delicate, feminine hand rest in Joseph’s as he helped her from the car, her long locks swirl around her face, kicked into motion by the playful sea breeze, and her immediate smile as she spotted him behind the glass of the terminal window, his conflicting thoughts disappeared like steam from a kettle. All he felt was joyous relief.
Hurrying out to meet her, he greeted her with a warm, engulfing hug.
“It’s wonderful to see you, Belle,” he exclaimed, then felt foolish. He had left her just an hour before and thought he must have sounded like a love sick, teenage boy.
“You too,” she beamed.
“Come inside, let’s talk. Joseph, you can handle the bags?”
“Of course,” Joseph replied.
Taking her hand, he led her through the doors into the luxuriously appointed waiting area, and through a door leading to a small conference room. As they sat down at the highly polished table, Belle stared out the window. She couldn’t help but admire the small private jets that were moving across the tarmac.
“This place is amazing,” she declared. “I didn’t even know it existed.”
“It’s handy,” he remarked. “A terminal like this is a necessity at a place like Los Angeles, but Belle, my plane is scheduled to leave soon. We need to talk.”
She pulled her gaze from the window and looked into his sparkling eyes. They were clear and bright, but the crease of his brow suggested a troubled mind.
“I didn’t mean to kidnap you,” he began, not sure where to start.
“Oh–you can kidnap me anytime,” she laughed. “It was a wonderful surprise.”
“Even so–I’m sure it was a shock. The thing is–”
“Oh it was a shock!” she declared, interrupting him, eyes wide. “But a wonderful shock.”
“Miss Somers,” he said sternly. “Am I going to have to bend you over this table?”
“Oh gosh Simon, I’m sorry. I interrupted
you again. I promise I’ll sit quietly and won’t say another word.”
“I am going to gag and spank that habit out of you at some point,” he promised. “Now where was I? Oh yes–I didn’t mean to kidnap you but, oh damn and blast, I have completely forgotten how I was going to say what it is I need to.”
Belle bit her lip to keep from blurting out how thrilled she was to be there; how she wanted nothing more than to jump on the plane with him; that she couldn’t think of a single place she’d rather be than right where she was, or anyone she’d rather be with than him. Though it wasn’t easy, she sat quiet and still as he gathered his thoughts.
“The thing is,” he finally began, “I realized I didn’t want to leave you. That is–I didn’t want to leave you behind, but I don’t know what this all means. The point being...do you want to come to London with me? I’ll be working most of the time. I have social commitments, many of them. It won’t be like it was at the hotel. I have no idea if I’ll be back in London for just a few days, or a month or...you can return here at any time of course, but you do need to understand I’ll be gone almost all day, except for the weekends. So, what do you say?”
His words had tumbled out in a jumbled emotional haste, but all she heard was, Do you want to come to London with me?
It was all she cared about.
“Of course,” she breathed, feeling tears of happiness brimming behind her smile. “I don’t care about all that other stuff–I just want to be with you.”
“I’ve never lived with anyone before,” he added. “I mean, except for a couple of days here and there. I’ve never shared my house. I’m not sure how I’ll be, how it will all fall into place, or even if it will fall into place. I don’t want to disappoint you–”
“Now I am going to interrupt you, on purpose,” she murmured softly, leaning forward and placing her finger against his lips. “There are no guarantees about anything, but there’s something very special between us.”
The British Billionaire Bachelor Page 20