Lennon lets out a long sigh. “Would you talk to him? If I could get the two of you together, would you talk to him?”
I shook my head. “Len, apart from business trips and meetings, tonight is the first time I’ve socialised in over three years. I don’t watch the telly. I don’t listen to the radio. I don’t read magazines, and it’s all because just the thought of someone mentioning his name, catching a glimpse of his face, or hearing his voice is much too painful. He destroyed me. But I’m getting better. It doesn’t hurt any less, I’m just finally coming to terms with how to handle my feelings. Tonight was really hard for me, but I did it, and I want to keep going forward. If I see or hear from him, it’ll probably just set me back. So no, not yet, I’m not ready.” I looked directly at both of them. “I know he’ll be at the wedding next year, and I’m gearing myself up for that to be the day that I am ready to see him again. I’m not promising I’ll look at him, and I doubt very much I’ll talk to him, but I’ll do my very best to be in the same room as him, because I love the two of you, and I know it’ll make you both happy.”
Chapter Ten
I went back to the wine bar with Ashley, and every time I saw tall, dark, and handsome there, he would smile, nod, and send over a bottle of champagne, but he made no effort to come and talk to me. After about three weeks, Ash finally convinced me to go out clubbing after we had drinks. My dad had bought into a club in the West End of London, so I’d asked him to put us on the guest list. I had no idea what to expect, but I was willing to give it a go. TDH, as Ash and I had nicknamed him, had sent over his usual bottle of bubbly, and when we were leaving, he clamped his hand around my wrist and gently pulled me into him.
“Enjoy the rest of your night, Georgia.”
My head jerked back. Not just because I was surprised he knew my name, but because of the sensation that shot through me because of the touch of his hand on my wrist, the sound of his voice, and the feel of his breath on the side of my face, neck, and ear. Goose bumps spread at a rapid pace across my skin, and I knew before it even happened that my nipples would be capable of cutting glass. It felt both delicious and terrifying. I couldn’t let this happen. I wasn’t ready to feel. I wrapped the safety of numbness all around me and hid behind the brick wall that surrounded my heart. Swallowing hard, I looked him right in the eye and then scanned over his face. He was bloody handsome and a lot older than I was. I was about to turn twenty, he definitely looked thirty-ish.
I don’t know where I found her, but suddenly, confident little fifteen-year-old George appeared.
“Thank you for the champagne, but whether I enjoy the rest of my night or not, has absolutely fuck all to do with you. Now take your hands off me and don’t touch me uninvited again. Ever!” I go to yank my wrist from his grasp, but his hand clamps onto me tighter.
“Such an angry little Kitten with such sad eyes. Who hurt you, Georgia? Who took the light out of those pretty blue eyes, hmm?”
My first instinct was to slap him, but he had hold of my right wrist, and I’d drunk a bottle of Moët and two Southern Comfort and lemonades, so I wasn’t sure how good my aim would be with my left.
“Let go of my wrist,” I said quietly through gritted teeth. He did exactly the opposite and pulled me into his chest, placing his hand on the small of my back and pressing me into him.
It felt good.
So good.
He had a hard-on, and it was pressing right into my belly. I gave out a little gasp. Shit!
He raised his eyebrows and gave a little smirk at my reaction.
He knew I could feel him. The fucker knew.
It was actually pretty impossible to ignore or miss and I didn’t know whether to run or grind against him right there in the middle of the wine bar in front of everyone.
“Next time you walk into my bar, you and I are going to find a quiet corner to sit and have a chat. And you, Kitten, are going to tell me all about the arsehole that made you so sad and so angry.”
Shit, he owns the place?
I guess that explained how he could afford to keep dishing out bottles of Moët, I bet he did it for all the birds he fancied, and there I was, thinking I was all it and a bit!
I kept looking into his eyes. “Well, looks like I won’t be walking back into your bar again then. I best start looking for somewhere else to drink.”
He took a step back and looked me up and down. “You’ll be back. If you’re not, I’ll just have to come and find you. Now, do as I say and go and have some fun. I want those eyes to have some light in them next time I see you.” He turned me around, smacked my arse, and sent me on my way.
For two whole weeks after that, I avoided the wine bar, forcing Ashley to drink at the pub down the road with me instead. It wasn’t as upmarket, and twice I’d heard songs played I thought were probably by Carnage. I still hadn’t heard any of their latest stuff, but I knew Sean’s voice anywhere. Both times, I ducked into the toilets and waited long enough for the song to end, but we never hung around there for very long. After the great night we’d had at my dad’s new place, I’d decided I had a few years of clubbing to catch up on, and we’d been to three different clubs since then.
Ash was still as wild as she was in school, and she loved a few lines of coke on a night out. I must admit, I joined her every time we’d been out lately. I just loved the instant rush and the confidence it gave me. The new drug of choice on the club scene was ecstasy, but I remember Sean and Jimmie telling me it makes you horny, and that was the last thing I needed. My libido had been on overdrive since the night TDH had pressed his dick against me. For the first time since I was of an age to think about boys in any kind of romantic or sexual way, my thoughts hadn’t all been about Sean. Sure he was there, always, painfully so, but lurking in the corner now with that smile on those soft lips and a spark in those warm, brown eyes was Mr TDH. I still had no idea what his name was, and I didn’t intend going back to the wine bar to find out. Not yet anyway.
It was a Thursday night in the middle of September, and my birthday was that coming Saturday. I was going out for drinks and then on to my dad’s club with Ash, Jimmie, and a few of the other girls that worked at the shop for us. I’d been with my mum in the West End meeting with buyers all day, and I’d just called into the Brentwood shop to pick up my new dress I’d ordered for Saturday night. Ashley and Lorna were the only two staff left, and it was just fifteen minutes till closing.
I noticed Ash looked terrible. “You okay, babe? You look rough as fuck.”
She took a deep sigh, shook her head, and looked at me with a frown. “I came on this morning and my belly’s cramping like a bitch. I need to go home, get my jarmies on, and curl up with my Danielle Steele book and a hot water bottle.”
Periods, ergh, hate the bloody things. I suffer terribly with period pain myself, and I knew it was no fun being on your feet all day when it felt like your womb was being ripped out of your fanny!
“Go, get your bag and go home, babe. I’ll lock up.”
“Ah, George, you’re a star. I’m not even gonna argue, thank you.” She really was very pale.
“Go! Open at ten tomorrow and don’t rush in. We’re never busy first thing anyway. I’ll leave a note in the window to let the customers know.”
Ashley came from out the back with her latest Louis Vuitton bag on her arm.
“Ash, you’re spending more than you bloody earn on bags and shoes lately.”
“Nah,” she smiled “This is a fake! Got it down the Roman the other week. Good though, ain’t it?”
“Ashley, if my mother sees that, you will be out on your arse. Do not bring fake shit into our shop. If Trading Standards ever came in, they would go through our entire stock and our reputation would be ruined.” I didn’t mean to pull rank, but fuck, my mother would absolutely flip.
“Shit! George, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think of that.”
I shook my head at her. “Go home, curl up with your book, get a lay-in, and don’t bring t
hat bag back here again.”
She kissed my cheek and left.
“Lorna, get cashed up, and you can go too.”
I ran upstairs to have a look at the work on my flat. Everything was done except for the tiling in the kitchen and the painting. I was just heading down the stairs when Lorna appeared at the bottom.
“I called Dave to come get me early, and he’s here, but a customer just came in. D’ya want me to wait?”
“Nah, you go, I’ll deal with it.” I made my way down the stairs while I spoke.
“Okay, thanks, George. Don’t forget to leave the note in the window about opening late, and thanks for letting me leave early. I’ll see you later.”
“Night,” I called after her.
I was so lucky with the team I had at Brentwood. We’d had nothing but trouble with the team that ran the Romford shop, but my Brentwood girls were great. We had no problems with bitching or sickness, and the girls were always happy to work late or come in early if they were needed. I headed over to the handbags with a smile on my face. I could just see the top of someone’s hair when they bent down and looked at something. At least it was bags and not shoes. Otherwise, I would be there all bloody night.
“Can I… What the fuck do you want?”
“Charming, Kitten. Is that how you approach all your customers?”
“Get out of my shop!” He completely ignored me.
“I want to buy a bag for my sister. It’s her twenty-first on Saturday. What’s the latest thing, Louis? Gucci? What are the girls into at the moment?”
What do I do, make him leave or make the sale?
I could be kicking out a potential five hundred pounds profit.
Shit!
Fuck!
Bollocks!
Arseholes!
“The Louis… The one you were just looking at, it’s new in this week.”
“Then I’ll take that one. I’d also like a pair of sunglasses, and a scarf, whichever you think is appropriate for a twenty-one-year-old.”
I tilted my head sideways. “Your sister’s very lucky.”
And very spoilt.
Ha, says me.
“She has three big brothers, I don’t know if I would call her lucky.”
“I would. I have three big brothers, and I consider myself very lucky. I love them like nothing else.”
Why did I tell him about my brothers?
Fuckeration, he needs to buy this bag and go!
His eyes roamed over my face for a few seconds. “Do you realise how much your eyes just lit up when you spoke about your brothers?”
I blushed instantly.
Ohhh, for God’s sake, Georgia. Get a grip.
I shook my head and looked down at the carpeted floor of the shop, but I startled when I felt his knuckle brush across my cheek.
“What happened to you, Kitten? Why don’t you come over to the wine bar and let me buy you a drink? Just a drink, nothing else, unless you want more?”
I wanted to lean into his hand that was now cupping the side of my face. His thumb was gently brushing over my lips, but I didn’t… I couldn’t… I wouldn’t.
“What colour scarf were you thinking?”
He smiled gently and sighed, placed his hands into the pockets of his light blue denim jeans, and rocked back on his heels.
“You choose the colour, Kitten. I’m happy with whatever you choose. You must be a similar age to my sister, so she’ll probably like whatever you do.”
Closer in age than you could ever imagine, I thought.
I instantly turned into my mother and became the perfect sales consult, helping him select a pair of Gucci sunglasses, a Chanel scarf, and a Louis wallet to match the bag. He stood there with his hands dug deep into the pockets of his jeans and watched me while I wrapped his purchases in tissue. He was wearing a white T-shirt and a tan suede bomber jacket, and he smelt absolutely divine. I think it was Givenchy. I recognised the smell because my brother, Bailey, wore it, but there was also a hint of something softer, almost floral, like soap powder or fabric softener.
Who does his washing for him, I wondered?
“So, will you come over and have a drink with me? It’s just a drink, Georgia, nothing else. We’ve drunk at the same bar lots of times, this time we’ll just be together.”
“Why do you want me to have a drink with you? Why do you always buy me champagne? Do you do that for all your female customers?”
“Of course I don’t, Kitten. I’d be fucking bankrupt if I bought every bird that walked through the door a bottle of Moët.”
“So why me?”
“Because I want to, and you always look so sad. That first time, when I gave the bottle to your friend, the loud one, Ashley, who works here. When you were drinking it, you smiled at me, and then you laughed and spilt your drink on your chin. And for a split second, you looked happy. I just wanted to see that spark in your eye again.”
I didn’t want him to know it was him I was thinking about that night or that I smiled because I was thinking about how good looking I thought he was. Jimmie had read my mind and stated my exact thoughts. I didn’t want to hear this! I didn’t want him to be nice! I didn’t want him to care! I wanted him to be a complete arsehole, but he wasn’t, not at all.
“Why’d you care whether I’m happy or sad? What difference does it make to you?”
“Because I own the bar, and I like my patrons to be happy. Now, are you gonna come for a fucking drink with me or not?” He sounded harsh, but the look on his face was anything but. He raised his eyebrows and leant away from the till point where I was wrapping his purchases.
“Come on, you know you wanna.”
I do, I really do. Dare I?
“One drink, Georgia. One drink and lots of talk.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Or, no talking. One drink and no talking, if that’s what you’d prefer.”
He was so nice and so bloody sexy. I swore I wouldn’t get involved with someone that stirred those old but familiar sensations buried deep inside me. I’d enjoyed a few snogs lately with completely random blokes. I’d even let one of them touch my tits while we kissed and waited for my taxi to arrive. Rick, or Nick, I think his name was, but I felt nothing. It stirred absolutely nothing. But, just standing there in the shop with a counter between us was doing things to my insides, and I really wasn’t sure what to do about it. My big fat gob went into action before it engaged my brain.
“One drink. I have my car out back, but I’ll need to drive it around. I’m not walking back here later on my own.”
He had the biggest smile on his face, and it made him look so much younger.
Aaaand off goes my mouth again. “How old are you?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Where are your keys, Georgia? I’ll pull your car around the front while you lock up.”
I folded my arms across my chest, as I looked him up and down, knowing full well I wasn’t going to get an answer. Shaking my head, I bent down under the counter, grabbed my keys out of my bag, and threw them to him.
Wait till he sees what he’ll be driving.
I nodded towards the back of the shop. “Through there and turn left onto the back alley. It’s one way.”
I followed him to the back doors. Hilda, my burnt-orange-and-black Triumph Herald, was parked right outside. I watched him as he swung the keys around his fingers, and then he stopped dead in his tracks and shook his head. This was obviously a habit of his. I expected him to turn around and say something, but he kept walking towards my car.
I locked the back door behind him, set the alarm, and headed out the front of the shop to where he was already waiting at the curb. He looked like a giant as he leant against my little car with his long legs crossed in front of him and his hands, once again, firmly planted in his pockets. As I walked towards him, it suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t even know his name. Well, he hadn’t offered, and I wasn’t going to make him think I was interested by asking. He silent
ly opened the passenger door, let me in, and then closed it behind me. My car now smelled of a mixture of me and of him, and I didn’t like it. It completely unnerved me.
We drove in silence for the two or three minutes it took to get to the wine bar. He parked next to a Mercedes Sports car in a spot marked Reserved, and he was out and around at my door before I’d even got my seatbelt undone. He pulled my door open and held out his hand to help me out. I ignored it and climbed out unaided, holding my hand out for the keys as I did. I locked my car, and he took my hand in his as we walked into the bar.
Once again, it was pretty busy for a Thursday night. We walked over to the bar, where one of the staff immediately came over to him. He handed over his bags containing the gifts for his sister and asked the bartender, who he called Steve, to go and put them in his office and to make sure it was locked. He then went around the bar and proceeded to pour himself a Jack Daniels over ice, and without even asking, he made me a Southern Comfort and lemonade. I wanted to tell him that I wanted a vodka, just to be awkward, but I managed to stay quiet.
As he spoke to one of the staff and said hello to customers, he made his way back around the bar with our drinks and nodded to an empty spot over in the corner. I followed him. We sat on stools that faced the ledge around the wall and once I was settled, he turned my stool so that I was facing him and pulled it closer. So close that my knees were touching his stool, and I was in between his legs, which were open and straddling mine. He looked at me as though he was daring me to object, so I said nothing.
Steve appeared with the keys to his office and a stack of papers. “You have a pile of messages, Cam, most of them are from Tamara, but there are a couple that are business related, and one from Tory.”
He took them from him, placed the keys in his pocket, and looked through his messages, shaking his head before also shoving them in his pocket.
“Sorry about that.”
I shrugged. “Not a problem, business is business.”
“Sure is,” he said with a smile.
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