Shit. She thinks I’m running off with his money? I can’t help but stare back at Hugh, eyes wide, no doubt looking like a deer in the headlights.
‘Florence had no idea I had any money whatsoever when we met, unlike most women I go out with.’ He smiles warmly at me. ‘I’m not making you sign it.’
Thank God for that.
‘Just take a moment to think, darling,’ she warns, casting her accusing gaze at me. ‘You’re rushing ahead with this ‘wedding’. Let me at least protect your assets. And not just yours, but ours.’
I feel like I should speak. Stand up for myself.
‘Just for the record, I’m not after any money.’ She looks back at me suspiciously, eyebrows raised. ‘I plan on making this marriage work, so by all means, I’ll sign it.’
Hugh’s mouth drops open. ‘Are you sure, Flo?’
He actually looks a little relieved, which hurts my feelings. I know it shouldn’t, but it does. I want him to fight for me and by me signing this it’s almost as if we’re giving up before we’ve even started.
I shrug as if it doesn’t bother me. ‘No big deal.’
If I have to get divorced because this was all a rushed mistake, that will be the devastating factor, not that I can take all of his money.
‘Marvellous.’ His Mum claps.
‘Although...I should take this home for my Mum’s partner Joan to look over.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘Why? Do lesbians also specialise in contracts?’
‘Mother!’ Hugh shouts, his turquoise eyes flashing with disgust.
‘I’m not sure,’ I snarl back sarcastically. ‘But she used to be a solicitor so I should take her advice. Lesbians can also hold down jobs, you know,’ I add sarcastically.
She rolls her eyes. ‘When they’re not licking vagina’s,’ she whispers bitchily under her breath.
Is this woman for real? She’s beyond vulgar.
‘Come on,’ Hugh insists, taking my hand. Anger radiates off him. ‘Let’s go. We don’t have to listen to this.’
‘Really?’ his mother snarls. ‘So you didn’t both ask me here today for money?’
Dammit, she’s got us there. I look to Hugh, discreetly raising my eyebrows.
‘We were going to ask for help with the wedding,’ Hugh admits quietly, so as not to draw attention to us. ‘But we don’t need it. We’d rather get married in a shitty pub than have you hanging over us the entire time.’
He takes my elbow and guides me out of the restaurant. A guy that’s not a mummy’s boy? He’s a keeper.
Chapter Seven
Wednesday 7th December
I wake up the next morning to someone banging on my door. Ugh. I cover my head in the duvet and pray they’ll go away. I’m not waiting for a delivery. I’m supposed to be using this time off work to relax, but instead, I’m planning a wedding. I at least deserve to lie in, don’t I?
But the persistent fucker keeps banging. Ugh. If it’s a Jehovah’s Witness, I will smack them in the face. I drag myself out of bed and stomp angrily down the stairs. I swing the door open.
‘What do you want?’ I snarl.
Looking back at me is the devastatingly handsome Hugh. He’s leaning against my doorframe in a navy suit and white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, showing just a glimpse of his tanned skin. When my eyes eventually travel back up to his face, I see that his lip is quirked in amusement.
‘Morning, sunshine. Like something you see?’
I quickly try to take the sleep out of my eyes. I must look like a bloody monster.
‘Err...no,’ I mumble quickly, tucking a bit of hair behind my ear while blushes spread on my cheeks.
‘Really?’ he smiles, amused.
‘What’s so bloody urgent anyway? You really need to stop waking me up so early, or I’m gonna end up dumping your arse.’
He walks past me up the stairs. Oh, do come in. God, he’s annoying.
I begrudgingly follow him, stomping my feet noisily. When I find him, he’s in the kitchen boiling the kettle and spooning coffee into my mugs. Okay, so I’m slowly forgiving him.
I cross my arms and lean against the counter. ‘So...are you going to tell me why you woke me up so early?’
‘Ah, yes.’ He reaches into his pocket and produces an envelope, handing it over to me. ‘Take a read.’
I look down the posh looking thick card.
Mr and Mrs Humphrey
Request the pleasure of your company
At Florence Gray and Hugh Humphrey’s
Engagement Party
‘What? Did...did we just get invited to our own engagement party?’
He nods, handing over my coffee. ‘Yep.’
‘But we don’t even know about this. We told your Mum we don’t want her money.’
He chews on his bottom lip. ‘I know. It’s probably some kind of trick. Like, show us what we could have.’
I place it on the counter and sigh. ‘I’m only used to men playing games. I’m not used to their mothers getting involved too.’
He snorts a laugh. ‘You’ve clearly never met mine.’
I attempt to rub the rest of the sleep out of my eyes. ‘So why don’t we just tell her we don’t want it?’
He grimaces. ‘I’ve already had twenty people contact me congratulating me and confirming they’ll attend.’
I catch on quickly. This could be embarrassing for him to cancel.
‘And it will be really awkward if we then have to tell them the party isn’t happening,’ I finish for him.
He nods with a shy shrug. ‘I know it’s out of order, but maybe we should just go along with it for now?’
Ugh. I can already see this is how it’s going to be. His mother controlling every situation. I feel exhausted at the thought of it.
I sigh, desperate to be back in my bed. ‘Look, I don’t mind. When is it?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow,’ I repeat. Hang on. ‘TOMORROW? Are you insane? How the hell am I going to get ready in that time?’
He looks at my hair. ‘Yeah, maybe get started on your hair right away,’ he chuckles.
‘Ha ha,’ I snap, sticking out my tongue.
‘But seriously, you don’t take twenty-four hours to get ready for a party, do you? Because I need to know if most of my married life is going to be spent waiting.’
‘No, of course not. I just...’ I swallow, attempting to shove down the panic. Should I be honest and tell him I’m scared? ‘I’ll need to buy a new dress.’ Chicken shit.
‘Then we’ll go shopping.’
I look back at him with raised eyebrows. ‘Really? You do shopping?’
‘Not exactly,’ he admits, ‘but I can come with you and introduce you to a personal shopper I know well.’
I think about my current wardrobe of jeans and wrap dresses. They’re definitely not going to cut it.
‘Okay. But, can I have another hour in bed first?’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘Only if I can come in with you?’
I nearly pass out from shock. Shit, is he serious? He wants to have sex...now? The first time when I look this rough and I’m this tired?
‘We can just spoon,’ he adds with a smile. ‘No need to look so terrified.’
‘No, sorry. It’s just...I’m nervous about...you know, that.’
‘What?’ he questions, eyebrows knitted together.
‘Us having...you know...sex.’
He laughs heartily. ‘Then maybe we should get it out of the way.’
He strides over to me and takes my face in his hands. He pauses for a beat before pulling my lips up to meet his. It shocks me so much my breath is stolen, and I almost stumble.
My shaking hands find their way into his hair and before I can reason with myself I’m gripping his hair roughly, so rough he bites my lip.
‘Ow!’ I yelp.
He grins back at me. ‘I take it you’re not into any kinky shit then?’ he chuckles.
Dammit, I don’t want him to think I�
�m boring.
‘Err, yeah...but you just...caught me off guard.’
He pulls me back in for a quick peck on the lips. ‘You’re so adorable.’
I roll my eyes. ‘That’s what every girl wants to hear,’ I drawl sarcastically.
Dammit. Why did I have to ruin the mood?
I take a deep breath and kiss him again. He strokes the side of my face tenderly.
‘We don’t have to do this now,’ he reasons, pulling back and gazing down at me.
‘No, I want to,’ I press. ‘It’s better if we just get it over and done with.’
His eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. Oops, wrong thing to say.
‘That’s not what I meant. I’m just nervous,’ I admit reluctantly.
He takes my shoulders in his hands. ‘Florence, we shouldn’t want to get this over and done with. I get that you’re nervous. We’re still getting to know each other.’
‘But we’re getting married in less than 18 days!’
He smiles reassuringly, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. ‘Why don’t we leave it until our wedding night?’
‘Huh?’ Is he bloody serious? I’m no virgin.
‘Leave our first time until our wedding night,’ he explains calmly.
‘You’re crazy!’ I laugh. ‘What if we’re sexually incompatible?’
‘Then we’ll just work on it,’ he counters like it’s no big deal. Like it’s not the rest of our lives.
‘What if I’m shit in bed?’
He eyes light up with amusement. ‘Are you?’
Shit, am I?
‘I don’t bloody know! I don’t have sex with me, but I’m single. That could be telling me something!’ I realise I must sound hysterical, but I’m clearly more freaked out about this than I thought.
He shakes my shoulders slightly. ‘Flo, calm down. You’re just freaking out. It’s normal. I seriously doubt you’ll be shit in bed, especially when you kiss like that.’
I look down, in a flush of embarrassment.
‘I...’ It’s pretty rare that I’m speechless.
‘Let’s just go shopping and get you a pretty dress, okay?’
I nod. Yeah, let’s go shopping. That will get rid of my problems.
He drives past the turning for the local shopping centre. ‘Where are we going?’ I ask, studying his face, trying to read him.
He gives me a fleeting broad grin before turning back to the road.
‘I know this little boutique.’
Oh God. Great. More stuff out of my comfort zone.
About five minutes later he pulls up outside a small green-fronted shop in an area I’ve never been to before.
‘This is it. Supposed to be the best place in town.’
I look up at it. It hardly looks amazing. Faded gold writing tells me it’s called The Closet. Where the hell did he hear about this place? I’m sure it’s not as posh as it looks.
He opens my door for me and takes my hand. Every time he touches me it’s as if an electric current goes up my arm.
I take a discreet deep breath as he opens the huge green door.
Wow. I was wrong. Everything in here is so grand. Rows and rows of gold rails hold the most spectacular dresses. I step onto the plush cream carpet suddenly worried my heels are dirty. It smells so clean and fresh in here. I hope I don’t suddenly have the urge to fart.
A quick look around tells me this is exclusively a woman’s shop. How the hell does he know about this place?
‘So, how come you know about a woman’s boutique?’ I ask with a badly hidden scrunched up face.
‘Do you really want to know?’ he asks with a quirked up eyebrow.
I frown. Does that mean he’s had loads of women? Shit, maybe I’m just one of many girlfriends he’s promised the world to only to—then get bored of and dump.
‘Hugh!’ an elderly woman dressed impeccably in a cream suit shrieks, rushing out from the back room. ‘How are you?’ She air kisses him and then takes his hands, holding him at arm’s length to appraise him. ‘I hear you’re engaged!’
He smiles fondly at her. He must like this woman. I straighten my shoulders and smile.
She turns to me. ‘I take it you’re the lucky girl,’ she gushes, pulling me in for a hug.
Wow. She’s bloody friendly. If only his Mother could be half as affectionate.
‘Martha,’ he says, fondly, ‘this is the lovely Florence.’
‘And lovely she is,’ she smiles so wide I’m worried her face is going to break apart. ‘I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.’
‘It’s...fairly new,’ he admits, winking at me.
I blush like a schoolgirl.
‘A whirlwind romance?’ she fawns, practically jumping up and down on the spot. ‘How romantic!’ She turns her attention to me. ‘Now! It’s time to find something fabulous for your engagement party.’
Ah. She must be invited too.
She scans over my body with critical eyes. I cross my hands over my chest, feeling exposed.
‘Okay, so you’re a twelve. Come, come. We’ll get you started.’ She takes my hand and starts pulling me towards the back changing rooms.
Hugh follows, already tapping away on his phone. I’ve obviously lost him to his emails.
‘Do you need to be somewhere?’ I ask sarcastically. I pout to let him know I’m only half joking.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ he shrugs. ‘I’m not leaving you.’
‘Isn’t he just wonderful,’ Martha says on a swoon. ‘I’ll get my assistant to fetch you some drinks while I get some dress choices. If you could just strip down to your underwear and I’ll be back in a tick.’
What now? Strip down to my underwear?
I stare back at Hugh. ‘Is she serious?’
‘You heard her,’ he grins, opening the curtain to a small changing room. ‘Strip.’
I stare at him, trying to work out if he’s serious. His smirk tells me he’s expecting me to decline, but that just makes me want to shock him. I need to show him I’m not some cowering little flower. It’s weird, but just knowing we’re not having sex until the wedding night now gives me the confidence to sex it up a bit.
I walk past him but pause before he has a chance to draw the curtain.
‘Can you help me?’ I ask seductively over my shoulder.
I tilt my head forward, looking down so I can’t gauge any kind of reaction from him. The pause makes all previous bravado dissolve. I can’t bear the possibility of rejection.
Just when I’m about to die from humiliation, I feel his hands rest on my waist. I jump from the contact—his touch is warm. My breaths become laboured almost instantly. This is the first time he’s really touched me like this, intimately. His hands lazily find their way up my back, his thumb stroking my spine. I curl into it. It feels wonderful.
He finds the zip at the top and slowly, too bloody slowly, pulls at it, all the way down to just above my arse. I don’t dare turn around for fear of backing out.
His fingers divulge into the top and smooth over my bare shoulders underneath. God, the feeling of him on my skin is divine. The fabric falls down as his hands lower down, down, down until his hands are on the sides of my stomach. He must be able to feel me hyperventilating by now.
I look at myself half naked in the mirror and catch his eyes, alive with lust. Something inside me fires, setting my heart racing even faster. I quickly avert my eyes to the floor, unable to bear the raw sexiness of him.
His thumbs worm their way into the dress ruched at my hips. He tugs and it slips devastatingly slowly over my arse and drops in a bunch onto the floor. This is it. I’m standing in front of him in just my bra and knickers. Thank God I thought to put on nice stuff. Not that it’s expensive. It’s only Primark, but from here you could guess the pale pink satin was La Perla.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispers in my ear, his voice like melting honey against my frayed senses. ‘Even more so than I imagined.’
I feel myself blushing, d
esperate for his hands to be back on me.
‘Look at yourself,’ he whispers into my ear.
I look up into the mirror and find his eyes staring at me. The hunger in his eyes is palpable.
‘You’re fucking stunning.’
It feels all the more sexy because he’s not touching me. My body hums with the need for his warm hands to feel me again, but this time, for them not to leave. His eyes are doing the work, taking in every minute detail of my body, as if he wants to memorise it forever. Every nerve ending in my body is begging him to close the distance.
‘Champagne,’ a voice sings from nowhere.
Hugh pushes me inside the changing room and pulls the curtain closed in an instant.
‘Ah, thank you, Collette. I’ll pass this on to the soon to be Mrs Humphrey.’
God, talk about knowing how to keep cool. He barely sounds flushed, while I’m still catching my breath.
‘So it’s true!’ the squeaky voice says excitedly. ‘It’s funny, but I always thought you’d end up marrying— ‘
‘Collette!’ he shouts quickly. ‘Why don’t you see if Martha needs any help, hmm?’
Wait, who the hell was she about to say? And why doesn’t he want me to know?
He takes a few seconds before he pulls open the curtain holding two champagne glasses.
‘For you, madam.’
I take it gratefully and knock back two gulps. I need the Dutch courage to ask him about this woman Collette saw him marrying. I open my mouth to ask when Martha appears.
‘Right! I have some dress choices here which I think will look fabulous on those curves of yours.’
Curves? Is that her polite way of calling me fat? I wouldn’t mind, but I’m really not that curvy. I’m an average size twelve. Most friends of mine have said they’d love to have my body.
‘So, if you’d excuse us a minute,’ she says to Hugh with a smile. ‘Take a seat and get ready to be wowed.’
The first dress she shows me is silver and full of encrusted diamonds. I smile back positively. Then I’m showed a bright red number. It’s not really me. A bit too bold and in-your-face for my liking. But the third dress, my God, the third dress. It’s impossible for my jaw not to hit the floor.
Adventurous Proposal (Standalone) (One Month Til I Do Book 1) Page 5