Meet Me in London

by Georgia Toffolo

  “Kiss me.” It was a command. Raw. A prayer she couldn’t resist. Didn’t want to.

  His mouth was there, so close to hers. A last chance. One last grasp at something so good she didn’t want to give it up. When he bent and molded his lips to hers she gave herself to him.

  This was no pretend kiss. This was real. This was her heart and her soul. Her gratitude and her desire. This was her love for him.

  This was everything.

  His hands framed her face, she wrapped her arms round his neck. Pulled him close. Felt the length of him crush against her.

  I love you.

  I love you.

  Her heart felt as if it was turning in on itself.

  Because this was goodbye.

  Bright flashes of light in her face made her jump. She pulled back. The cheering was louder. The clapping deafening. People were stamping their feet.

  Oh, no. God, what were they doing? She blinked. Twice. Tried to focus. She caught Lily’s face, wrought with confusion. In the front row Stella looked completely smitten, as if the answer to all her problems was right there in that kiss. Even Eric was clapping.

  “Congratulations,” Ollie said. “I am so proud of you. They love you. Here’s to your collection going viral.”

  Viral. The photographers. She looked again at the crowd and gasped. Stella, Eric, Lily, even Andrew were all caught up in this. And if anything was mentioned anywhere in the media her parents and friends would be too.

  But that was what they’d wanted, right? The Russells? Good PR.

  This very public show of affection would rocket Oliver’s company ratings. In truth, when it came down to it, she was just part of a damned good marketing campaign.

  Her chest filled with pain. She’d wanted more time with him. Wanted to believe this amazing dream could be possible, but she absolutely couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t lie to these people, couldn’t pretend to anyone else that she was in a relationship with Oliver. Couldn’t pretend to Oliver that she didn’t want more than this.

  Couldn’t pretend to herself that she hadn’t fallen deeply in love with a man who didn’t know her deepest, most important secret. And couldn’t bear to have them all looking at her like she was the answer, when she wasn’t.

  “That went down well.” As more flashes went off Oliver leaned his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged, a smile on his lips. “Once more for luck?”

  She tried to swallow the lump in her throat away. “For your PR?”

  “For us.” His features softened as he looked at her with such warmth in his eyes. He actually thought it was real too. Wanted it to be. That was what made it worse.

  “I... I have to go. Sorry. I can’t do this anymore.” She let go of his hand and took a last bow then made her way back to the changing area, Lily’s concerned expression at the forefront of her mind. She wasn’t just hurting herself.

  But Oliver was on her heels and he pulled her to face him. God, he was so beautiful it took her breath away. She couldn’t quite believe she was doing this, any other fool would just hang on, but she had to.

  “Vict—”

  “Please. I can’t...” She took a step back, and another. “I can’t breathe...”

  Then she turned and ran through the changing area, found an exit door and thundered down the stairs, wanting to be far away from everyone. To collect her thoughts far from the people who’d all bought in to her little deal with the devil.

  She shoved open a heavy metal door and staggered outside into the cold night, finding herself outside the security entrance Oliver had taken her through that first day. Her heart tugged at the memory of that fateful meeting.

  The thick layer of snow gave the street an eerie feel; making everything seem too bright and dampening the sound of footfall and cars. Too quiet when the noise in her head was deafening. She leaned against the wall and inhaled.

  What was she going to do? People were going to see those photographs. Her friends and family. People were going to believe it was real. They would see how much she cared for him because her body language wouldn’t lie. She’d pressed against him, wanted to feel him, wanted to hold him. For always.

  It was real, to her. She’d fallen in love with him without a care for her own heart. She’d let herself fall, damn it, she’d enjoyed falling. She just had to...had to say the words...

  “Victoria.” A voice behind her in the shadows.

  “Ollie, please. I need a minute.” She fought the tears. Elation from her show and sadness at what she was about to do made her chest constrict tight.

  “Vicki!” Louder now.

  It wasn’t Ollie. He’d never speak to her in that aggressive tone. She whirled round to find herself face-to-face with Andrew. Typical that he was the Russell who had followed her out and the last thing she needed was to see him gloating.

  His eyes were intense. “Running away?”

  “No. I just needed to...” Breathe. She didn’t need to explain. She clasped her hands together, felt the accusing point of the engagement ring diamond stab her thumb. “What do you want, Andrew?”

  “I want you to leave the Russells alone. Stop this game you’re playing and step out of our lives.”

  Even though he was demanding exactly what she was planning his words jabbed her like a knifepoint. “And what if I don’t? What if I love Oliver?”

  “I’ll tell them the truth.” He had Russell eyes but not the warmth and depth of his uncle’s or cousin’s.

  Her heart kicked against her ribs. “The truth about what?”

  “You’re stringing them along with your promises of a future, when we both know they’ll never have grandchildren from you.” He leaned closer and she could smell alcohol on his breath. “The Russell line will stop with Oliver and you know he wants more than that. He wants kids, Vicki. His parents are set on grandchildren to dote on. You need to be honest about that so they can, how shall I put it? Reevaluate their choices. Maybe reconsider that ring.”

  He looked lasciviously at her hand and she knew then that it must be worth a lot more than she’d thought it was.

  So, he wanted to break this up so he could give the damned ring to his future wife? And provide beautiful Russell offspring which would slide him into the favorite stakes? But how did he know this private information about her? Who? Why?

  Then it hit her like a physical blow in her scarred belly. “Peter told you?”

  “Just filled me in, you know. A friendly chat.”

  She closed her eyes against the hot swell of tears. Blinked them back, because she sure as hell wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d ruffled her. “I’m going to finish it anyway. Tonight. Then they’ll never know. Please don’t hurt them.”

  His piggy eyes narrowed. “You have until tomorrow.”

  17

  SHE HADN’T COME back. She’d been gone for hours while he held the fort at the store doing interviews, herding the students, overseeing the rest of the festivities. Dealing with his parents’ questions.

  Meanwhile, she’d just disappeared.

  And now he was caught up in more media nonsense. Someone from #Garb magazine had their mobile phone almost stuck up his nose as she threw questions at him about Victoria. And all he could think of was the way she’d looked so happy when the models were walking in her clothes. How she’d felt in his arms. The smile on the helicopter flight. The thick lightness in his chest when he thought about her at all—about all the good she’d done and the way she made him want to do good, do better too. And the way she’d looked so devastated after their kiss. Eventually, he held up his hands.

  “Thank you, yes, I’ll get her to contact you. Or you could message her though her website, victoriascottdesigns. I have to go.” Frustrated and—OK, yes, he admitted it—spooked by her running off, he pushed his way through the throng and back into the cha
nging area.

  There was no one there. It was late. Everyone had left and taken their things with them. Everyone, except Victoria.

  Her dresses hung, slightly disheveled, on a rack. The hangers had been stuffed in, leaving the clothes dangling at odd angles, people shoving them on in a hurry. He straightened them, mainly as something to do while he worked out his next step.

  She’d run away from him.

  He pulled out the wedding dress that had caused such a furore of response and his heart damned near cracked. As the model had walked down the catwalk he’d imagined Victoria wearing it. Walking towards him. In a church or something.

  Damn. He tugged at his tie, loosening it, hoping to breathe better. But he didn’t...couldn’t, because the choked-up feeling was inside him. He was in too deep and she was sending him a huge message by leaving him on the runway like that.

  But that kiss. It had been as if they’d been somewhere private. He had to find her but what the hell he was going to say to her he didn’t know.

  Outside, a cruel wind whipped the snow around his feet as he crunched towards her flat. Being near closing time now, the wine bar customers were starting to leave and every time they opened the door a chime of cheesy Christmas music filled the air. He could hear familiar squeals coming from up the road where Jasmine and the girls were having a snowball fight with Nisha’s brothers. He peered over, hoping to see his Victoria amongst them. But no.

  He guessed she wouldn’t be in the bar but popped his head in anyway. The only people left were a drunk Father Christmas—sans long white beard—and an elf, fast asleep in the corner.

  One of the bar staff—Sara with the cropped hair—raised her eyebrows when she saw him and then pointed her forefinger upwards. She’s upstairs.

  He pressed the buzzer to her flat and waited.

  And waited. And pressed the buzzer again.

  Then he scooped up snow, made a snowball and threw it up at her window. “Victoria!”

  And he waited. Concern prickled down his spine. This wasn’t like her. She didn’t do this. Although, she’d told him how she’d hidden away after the accident, so maybe retreating into herself when she was upset was her go-to.

  That realization made everything suddenly seem worse. He threw another snowball and watched it crash against her studio window and disintegrate into a flurry of sleet raining down on his handmade Italian shoes, soaking them.

  Just perfect.

  Then suddenly there she was, standing in her doorway, haloed by the light behind her. Her eyes were red, and her face wet from tears. She was wearing pink pajamas with reindeer on them. Despite the success of her show she didn’t smile.

  Heart lurching, he took a step forward and reached out to touch her cheek. “What the hell, V? Are you OK?”

  She batted his hand away. “Look, Ollie—”

  “You literally ran out on me. Left me hanging on that stage. What’s the matter?”

  She looked at her feet, at a spot over his shoulder. Anywhere but him. Her bottom lip wobbled. She pressed her lips together. Then said, “Oh, Ollie. It’s the first of December. We had a deal, right?”

  “Ah.” He smiled and relief flooded through him. She actually thought it was over? His stomach started to unclench. That was all? She thought they had to call it a day, just because they’d said it would be so? An easy fix. “So, we can make a new one.”

  “No.” She looked as if her heart was about to break into a thousand pieces. “I can’t lie to them anymore. And all the press there, the photographs...there’ll be a buzz about us in the media and people will be asking about me and about my parents, my friends.” Her hand went to her head. “I didn’t think this through at all.”

  “Maybe, no one will report it.” Although chances of that happening were virtually nil. He’d made his PR team send out hundreds of press releases about the opening.

  She showed him her phone. Photos of their clinch were already uploaded on Buzzfeed, the Daily Mail, gossip blogs, with cheesy soundbites that made him shudder:

  Great Scott!

  Heir to the Russell fortune is be-scott-ed with upcoming fashion designer.

  Who is the woman who stole Russell heir’s heart?

  And more...

  Eric Russell’s mystery illness.

  Russell & Co. top boss struck down.

  Eric Russell weak and frail...

  God. Oliver pressed his fist to his forehead. This was a nightmare. He hadn’t even thought about the way the press would intrude on his father too. His dad would be furious he’d been portrayed as weak.

  Victoria’s eyes glittered with hurt and anger. “I mean, really? It’s already happening. I don’t want people digging around in my past. Lily’s already upset about it. Although, I think that’s more about me than this.” She brandished the phone at him again like a weapon she wanted to hurt him with.

  He looked past her, up the stairs to her apartment. “Lily’s here?”

  “No.” Victoria shook her head. “She had to go back to Hawke’s Cove straight after my show.”

  Good. They’d have a chance to calm down in private then. He needed to explain about separating their private lives from their public ones. Her wobble was nothing to do with the way they felt about each other and everything about handling the stress of being in the spotlight. “Can I come in?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “V. Come on.” He put his palm on the door frame to stop her closing the door in his face. “It’s a blip. People will have forgotten about it by tomorrow. We can get through this.”

  “You can. You live your life out there all the time. I don’t and I don’t want to. I don’t want people to know what I’m doing or what’s happened to me in the past.”

  “I’ll fix it. I’ll send out press releases tomorrow. I’ll tell them—”

  “What exactly? That I’m your fiancée? Because you know as well as I do that the backstory to that kiss isn’t real. Our relationship isn’t real, but now everyone—the whole damned world—thinks it is.” She wrapped her arms across her body. “This is not something that even the great Oliver Russell can fix.”

  “It is real. It can be real, V.” He touched a strand of her hair, let it run through his fingers, relishing the silk and the fresh scent. Not wanting to let her go. “Let me try.”

  “It’s over, Ollie. All this pretense. Us. It’s over.” She took a step back. Two. Until she’d retreated to the stairs leading up to her flat and sat. Her hand went out in front of her signaling him to keep his distance but every part of her body was keening towards him. If she was that desperate to get rid of him, she’d have shoved him and slammed the door already. Once again, she was saying one thing and her body was indicating something else. Even the sob in her throat gave her away.

  “It’s not pretense and you know it.” He went to her, knelt in front of her. “The kisses, everything... Sure, it started out as some stupid game, I know. But those kisses were real, Victoria. The way we connect is real. Tell me. Tell me it’s not real and I’ll leave.”

  He held his breath as she looked at him.

  “It’s real.” She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “But there are too many reasons why not, Ollie. We live in different worlds and have very different futures. Very different.” She sounded a little more determined now, as if she was talking herself into this. “I’m sorry. Here’s your ring.”

  “No.” He wanted to rage at her. To tell her to stick her stupid decisions and to stay with him, but that was the kind of thing his emotionally underdeveloped cousin would say. He struggled to stay calm because he got the feeling that she was on an edge here. But hell. He had emotion aplenty. “Keep it.”

  She squeezed Nana Norma’s ring from her finger and held it out to him. A single tear edged over her lid and slid down her cheek. Her hand shook. “Take it. Pl
ease.”

  She actually meant it. She was really doing this. A heavy weight settled in his chest and spread through his body making everything hurt. The ring was the icing to this whole damned conversation. If she kept it they were still connected, right?

  “First rule of gift-taking, V. You can’t give it back. No returns, remember?”

  “Maybe at the store.” She gave him a sorry smile at the reminder of when he’d given her the bolt of fabric. “But this was your grandmother’s. It’s a Russell heirloom.”

  “And now it’s yours.” He looked down at the diamond in her palm. Light caught the precious stone making it sparkle but all he could see was a stretching darkness without her in his life.

  “But your father...?” She shook her head.

  “Is a logical and honorable man. He’ll understand that a gift is a gift.”

  “I’m glad he will, because I don’t. They’ll think I was only after your money or something. They’ll think badly of me.”

  “Never, Victoria. No one could ever think badly of you.”

  “Oh, some people do.”

  “Tell me their names and I’ll go steal their pocket money.”

  “And you would too.” She laughed softly, but her eyes were sad, her body language was resolute. She’d made up her mind.

  So had he. He wanted her. He loved her. But he knew if he told her that she’d run up those stairs and lock him out of her life. She’d made a decision based on what she thought was the right thing to do. Well, so could he. “I’m not leaving.”

  “And I will not back down.” Her chin lifted. “This has to finish. We agreed.”

  “And we can un-agree. We’re grown-ups, can’t we talk about it?” OK, his emotions were rattling out of control. He felt a gaping chasm open up in his chest. “What are you scared of, Victoria?”

  She glared at him realizing he was throwing back at her the words she’d said to him that night at the hospital. “Nothing.”

  “So why are you giving this up? I know you feel for me the way I do about you. Hell... I don’t know what’s going to happen, I don’t have a crystal ball, but I want to try. I want us to try.”