Meet Me in London: The sparkling new and bestselling romance for 2020. Perfect escapism, for fans of Lindsey Kelk and Heidi Swain.

by Georgia Toffolo

  She swallowed, heat in her eyes. ‘Looks like it.’

  She’d showed so much courage and resilience, so much fight. What had he ever done that had been so brave as to pick himself up from something like that and make a better life for herself and those she came into contact with?

  They stood for a few moments clasping hold of each other. He wondered what she was thinking or expecting, and he told himself not to expect anything at all. It was good just to have her in his arms for as long as she’d let him.

  He felt her hands run over his shoulders and down his back, was one hundred per cent aware of the way she pressed herself against him. But he did nothing to encourage her, just kept on stroking her hair and soothing down her spine with his fingers.

  Even if not kissing her was driving him crazy.

  She looked up at him. ‘Oliver, this is intense.’

  ‘Yes.’ It was also insane. He ran his thumb down her cheek, traced over her lips.

  She shivered, her eyes closing as she rested her forehead against his throat. Everything in her stance, in her eyes, told him she wanted him. Felt the same tug, the same need and desire, and was wrestling with her self-control. ‘Oliver, we said—’

  ‘I know.’ And it’s killing me. No kissing. No overstepping the line. But she was letting him into her world more and more and with every step he felt more connected, more intimate. More wanting to be intimate.

  He picked up her left hand and kissed her knuckles one by one, stopping at the engagement ring. Once again, she was saying things to push him away but her actions belied that sentiment. She was struggling with this and fighting. And so was he. He wanted her. Liked her. Admired her. Cared for her.

  What did that mean? For him? For them? Hell. He was in uncharted territory here.

  But it wasn’t his place to push her into doing something she didn’t want to do. So he held her for a moment longer, breathing in her scent and wishing they could stay like this all night.

  When she breathed out and stepped away her smile was back in place. ‘Right, I have my trusty notebook. Let’s go.’

  Chapter Twelve

  THE TRAFFIC EDGED SLOWLY along the road as Victoria slipped and slid with Oliver on the sleety pavement. Her feet kept disappearing from under her and more than once she had to grab him to keep upright. Seemed she was doing that a lot today. It didn’t help that sensual overload made her legs like jelly.

  It was a beautiful clear night, a silvery full moon hovering low over the city, with a shimmer around it as if its edges were leaking into the sky. ‘Look at that. It’s a stunning evening.’

  ‘It is.’ His neck tilted as he looked upwards. ‘But that is damn near my favourite colour.’

  ‘Finally, he decides! Check. Another thing ticked off the list.’

  Her heart was pounding. She’d told him far too much about herself, droned on about her past, leaving her feeling vulnerable and yet strangely animated. Something about his gentle questioning had made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t felt when talking to others about the crash. He’d pushed her to say what she was feeling and instead of clamming up she’d taken a risk and it hadn’t backfired. He hadn’t laughed, in fact, the opposite: he’d bolstered her. Made her feel as if she could take on the world.

  She curled her hands into fists against the cold, stuck them into her pockets but the fabric snagged on something… her engagement ring.

  Wow. It had been one hell of an intense afternoon. Engaged. Brutal honesty about her deepest fears. Sadness at her memories. Then hope. Shiny, happy hope that made her heart light for the first time in years.

  And a hug that had felt so warm and comforting. Safe and… loving. And he’d held on too, as if he didn’t want to let her go. Ollie was more than a businessman, he had a heart that was aching to share and she felt he was starting to do that. She’d let him into her world, but he was breaking down some barriers of his own too.

  The kiss might not have been real but the friendship they were developing was and that was something new. If, at the end of it all, she came out with Ollie as a friend then she’d be halfway to happy.

  Perhaps she could relax a little more into this and see where it took them. After all, there couldn’t be a future, but there could be a present. She didn’t have to tell him everything but she could explore what they could give each other for now…

  She glanced at him now as he strode along, determined to keep upright, the tenderness of a few minutes ago hardening into professional mode the closer he got to work. He was a man of many sides, Oliver Russell. Mostly, he saw the best part of her and shaped it into something better. A catwalk with her name on it! Her heart skipped to the rhythm of their hurried steps.

  He walked her up the marble steps as if it was perfectly natural for them to be together. All heads turned as the doors swung open and right there in a huddle of chatter and discussion were Aziz and his sons, and Jakob and Aleksander from the bakery on the corner along with many other familiar faces from her street. And, to her dismay, Andrew, who was talking to a group of workmen.

  Great. Let the acting commence. She nodded her greeting and walked into the huge room, her senses suddenly assaulted by the wonderful smell of pine mixed with the expensive perfumes that staff were putting onto shelves.

  Then she stopped and stared at the incredible fir tree in the corner and took a breath. ‘Wow, Ollie, you said it was going to be big, but I didn’t expect this.’

  ‘I like the element of surprise.’ He grinned, clearly proud at how far the fit-out had progressed under his leadership.

  The tree skimmed the midnight-blue ceiling and was decorated in swathes of silver tinsel and silver decorations. Large, sparkly baubles with pictures of the Russell & Co stores around Europe… Newcastle, Paris, Manchester, Prague, Berlin, Edinburgh, Dublin and one for here, where she was standing; the flagship shop he was responsible for. Underneath the tree were piles of gifts of all shapes and sizes. All ready for excited children and adults alike.

  How long to go? Ten days. Nine? She had her work cut out to get everything completed in time, but not as much as Oliver. Some shelves were stocked, but some weren’t even built yet. There were wires still hanging from the walls and from here she could see straight up the escalator cavity, through the glass panels lining the second floor and it was all in darkness.

  But they had decorations down here and some stock. That was something. A grand entrance at least.

  ‘Hey,’ Oliver said as he edged in next to her in the huddle of gawpers. ‘Look up.’

  ‘Why…? Oh!’ She did as she was told and suddenly thousands of tiny white lights strung across a midnight-blue ceiling flickered on, like myriad twinkling stars. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  Christmas was hurtling fast towards them. As was the opening. The show.

  And the end.

  ‘We got here just at the right time. Testing the lighting. We want to iron out any issues in good time. The last thing we need is a fire or a blackout on opening day.’

  He gave a thumbs up to a man in a hard hat at the top of the escalator in the middle of the floor. The guy nodded and spoke into a radio. Within seconds the fairy lights were snuffed out and normal strip lighting resumed to a chorus of nos and groans.

  Then Oliver took command of the meeting. ‘Right, gather round everyone. I’m delighted you’ve all made a commitment to what I believe is going to be a great day for all involved. Let me run through the plan. We have a brass band starting at ten o’clock, playing Christmas carols and repeating again at twelve, two and five. The Santa Claus grotto will be on the third floor in front of the toy department. That should mean any excitable children will be whisked up there and returned tired and hungry to you. I’ve hired Swiss-style wooden stalls for each of you, creating a village atmosphere here in the middle of the atrium. I think it’s important we have you all together. Jewellery and gift items can be down…’

  ‘Vicki?’ A voice in her ear. One she knew too well and made her gut go into fre
efall at the memories. She turned and came face-to-face with…

  ‘Peter. Hello.’

  He nodded. No smile. ‘Surprised to see you here.’

  Given this whole thing had been prompted by her? Although she didn’t expect him to know that, or to get thanks for it. She did, however, remember to twist the engagement ring round so the beautiful diamond wasn’t advertising her recent agreement with Oliver. ‘I’m helping on the day with the fashion show. Where will you be?’

  ‘Men’s. Second floor. There isn’t an in-store alterations here, so the aim is for men’s wear to funnel any alterations over to me across the road. I’m hoping that while I have their attention, I can interest them in some quality handmade suits instead of the off-the-rack ones here.’

  Of course he would. And why not? This was business after all. Although, judging by the suits she’d seen Oliver wear she imagined Russell & Co only dealt in quality. ‘Great idea.’

  But Peter was still catching up. ‘Wait. What fashion show? I don’t know anything about it.’

  ‘It’s… er… nothing really.’ Her heart hammered. She really did not want to get into this here. Or ever, actually, not with Peter. Why did she always feel like she had to tone things down with him? As if he was always somehow better than she was, more deserving? Oliver would never treat her like that. She lifted her chin and looked her ex straight in the eyes. ‘We’re putting a show on for my students. And me.’

  ‘You’re having a catwalk here? You?’

  Oliver had taken the food-stall owners over to the back wall to discuss electricity logistics, so that left just a few stragglers here. She watched Oliver gesticulating, talking, laughing and giving each person he interacted with his time and consideration. Unlike Peter, who just wanted to feel superior. What would she tell her students in a situation like this? Own it. Never let anyone make you feel inferior. She lifted her chin and looked him directly in the eyes. ‘Yes, Peter. I’m showing my designs here on opening day. In fact, my bridal collection is going to be the finale.’

  His mouth moved but no sound came out. Certainly, no congratulations. ‘I presume it’s only women’s wear designs,’ he managed, having gone from looking pleased with himself to the unattractive colour of envy. His voice rose and he shook his head. ‘Typical. I could have made good use of that.’

  ‘Is there a problem?’ Andrew, who had been watching the interaction, stalked over.

  ‘Not at all. I was just telling Peter about the catwalk.’

  ‘Oh. Oliver’s little side show.’ There was derision in Andrew’s demeanour. ‘I assume you’re to blame for that?’

  ‘What? It’s a fabulous idea. The girls are so excited.’

  ‘It has disaster written all over it.’ Shaking his head, he turned to Peter and stuck out his hand. ‘Andrew Russell.’

  ‘Russell? As in this place?’ Suddenly Peter’s shoulders went back and he found a smile. Avaricious. ‘Good to meet you. I’m Peter Swain. Tailor from across the road. Great to have the big guns on our street. Hope you’re settling in.’

  What? He’d been shouting his mouth off about Russell & Co development since planning permission was given.

  Andrew nodded. ‘Ironing out a few kinks, but otherwise all going to plan for the opening.’

  Victoria felt extremely protective of Oliver. He was ironing out the kinks that Andrew had put there. And now taking all the credit. And clearly winning Peter on side. Her ex leaned towards Andrew. ‘I have some ideas I’d like to run by you. If you’re free for a pint after this?’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re interested in the fashion show too?’ Andrew almost spat the last few words out. ‘Because that’s not my department.’

  Peter shook his head. ‘I don’t need that kind of publicity. I have enough business to keep me more than busy.’ Then why are you here? ‘Just something I think could be of mutual benefit.’

  She couldn’t believe how much bluster and self-importance these two men had. ‘Well, I think it’s going to be a fabulous opportunity. The whole day is going to bring in lots of attention for us all.’ She pointed over to Oliver and the rest of the group. ‘Look, the stalls are in a perfect place for maximum footfall. This store is a destination shop, bringing people in from all over, and when they’re here they’ll hopefully explore everything the street has to offer. It’s a win-win for everyone.’ Now she was sounding like the Russell PR machine.

  ‘Nice ring.’ Andrew’s lip curled as he stared at her hand. It wasn’t a compliment, it was an accusation.

  ‘Oh.’ Damn. It had twisted back and was now on full show. She couldn’t exactly hide it again. Damn her stupid wild gesticulating. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Nana Norma’s.’ Andrew was looking at her expectantly.

  Was it? Had Oliver even mentioned his grandmother’s name? She couldn’t remember. She’d been so distracted by the on-one-knee gesture she hadn’t paid much attention. ‘Um. Yes?’

  ‘Oliver did tell you about her, didn’t he?’

  ‘Oh…’ Victoria inhaled. There was clearly a family story here that she surely would have heard if she’d known Oliver in the deeper truly-in-love sense. Was Andrew trying to trick her into admitting she didn’t know enough about Oliver to be engaged to him? Note to self, ask about Nana Norma. ‘Um…’

  ‘Vicki? You’re engaged?’

  She breathed out. Never, ever had she been grateful for Peter liking the sound of his own voice. Until now.

  ‘Yes.’ Reluctantly she held her finger up to save him bending and peering. ‘I am.’

  ‘To the other Russell guy?’

  ‘Yes.’ She knew her eyes were darting from Andrew to Peter while she wished the world would stop and she could slide off and hide. She willed herself to slow down. Being engaged to Oliver was something she would be proud of. ‘Oliver… Oliver Russell.’

  Did he have a middle name? Should she know about that too before anyone asked her?

  ‘That was quick.’ Tugging at his goatee beard Peter looked over to Andrew. ‘Your brother?’

  ‘Cousin.’ Andrew’s expression had turned dark. ‘Older by two years, so he gets first pick of everything. Right, Victoria?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know.’ Wow. Talk about a family feud. How did Oliver surmount this kind of hostility on a daily basis? ‘But he works hard. Long hours.’

  ‘We all do. He doesn’t have a monopoly on that.’

  That was the crux of the matter: Andrew worked hard too, he just didn’t always get it right the first time. Or the second, according to Oliver. And in a global business like this everything needed to be right. He was simmering because he felt he deserved reward, not side-lining.

  Looking beyond Andrew’s shoulder she saw Oliver watching the two men, and frowning. She sent him telepathic help me messages. Turn your head to the left. See me. This was worse than the dinner. At least Eric and Stella wanted to get to know her and she’d had Oliver stuck to her all night.

  Stroking her thumb. Kissing her.

  Her body reacted to the memory, making her hot. She wanted him. So much. Too much.

  She didn’t know how long she was expected to hold court with these two failed jesters and hoped it wouldn’t be long enough for them to see the way her body reacted to Oliver. The hope and longing she knew was in her eyes. Although, then at least they’d all be convinced that this relationship was legitimate.

  As if he’d actually received her telepathic messages Oliver turned his head a fraction more to the left and caught her eye. He must have sensed her discomfort, because he said something to the group and then sauntered over.

  She breathed out as he slipped his hand into hers and squeezed, grazing her head with a kiss that cemented her as his. His fiancée. His. Her heart contracted at the possessiveness in his gaze and the way he wrapped his arm round her shoulder as he nodded greetings to Andrew and Peter. The two men were left in no doubt that she was taken… not that that was ever likely to be an issue where they were concerned.

  After a few str
ained but polite words Oliver drew her away to discuss the catwalk. They made their way across the shop floor, back to the escalator and started to ride up.

  The more distance between her and Peter the better she felt. ‘Thanks for rescuing me, Ollie. It was getting a bit tense there.’

  He glanced over his shoulder down at the two men who were deep in conversation. Occasionally one would look up towards Oliver, or her? And then they’d chat again.

  A shiver skittled down her back. ‘Talk about feeling like you’re the subject of gossip.’

  ‘It looks like an interesting combination: my cousin, your ex. A match made in hell. Not sure I approve.’

  But she didn’t care. They could elope together for all she was concerned. ‘If it means they’re both off my back then they can have each other. I hope they’re very happy.’

  ‘Sadly, I’m not sure I can ever use the words happy and Andrew in the same sentence. He’s always been in competition with me, ever since we were kids. Don’t know why and I’ve never encouraged it. We just never hit it off and now I’ve been promoted over him he’s worse than ever.’

  They stepped off the escalator and walked through the semi-darkness past empty concession stands. Voices wafted upwards from below, but essentially they were all alone up here. It was a cavernous space, but eerie and intimate at the same time.

  ‘I’m thinking we’ll put the catwalk across here.’ Ollie paced out a long diagonal line. ‘I’ve arranged for a runway that’s about thirty feet long. We’ll have chairs either side. The models can start over at the back as it’s nearest the changing rooms. You’re going to have to sort out the timing and the music, I wouldn’t dare suggest anything that wasn’t peng or mint.’