Cinderella and the Geek (British Bad Boys)

by Christina Phillips

  “She wants your number. She thinks you’re cute and clever.”

  I prop my hand on the opened car door. “What?”

  “You know she’s a math genius? She fell into modeling by accident.”

  I’m still reeling from the whole she wants your number. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

  “No. I’m trying to—” He cuts himself off and gives a frustrated intake of breath. “You need a life outside of Blitz, bro.”

  A month ago, before getting together with Alice, his comment would’ve pissed the fuck out of me, because of the unsubtle inference that I need to get the hell over Clare. And although I got over her years ago, it occurs to me I’ve never told Lucas that.

  Not telling him now, either.

  “I have a life.” I get in the car and slam the door. “I don’t need you to try to set me up on fake dates with your exes.”

  “Did you even hear what I said? She’s a mate. And there’s no way she’d ever go out with me. She has brains, Harry. Same as you.”

  She’s also a world-famous model. Sometimes my brother can be so gullible. “I don’t have a jet-set lifestyle, and I’m not interested anyway. Are you sure she’s not just winding you up? Bet you find out it’s you she wants, not me.”

  “Christ, you’re a fucking pillock sometimes, you know that?”

  With that, he hangs up and I sit there, the engine idling, as his words echo around my head.

  There’s no doubt Lucas believes every word he said, but why would any girl, given the choice between my famous, charismatic brother, and me—who can’t flirt to save my life—pick me?

  Alice’s sweet face floats into my mind, and my chest compresses. If she wants to keep our relationship a secret from everyone at work, even after she’s left, I’ll do it. Because even though Alice isn’t Clare, I’m still not ready for my own twin to know about us.

  …

  As soon as I go online on Tuesday morning, an email from Oscar Jarrod leaps out at me.

  Great PR!!

  I’ve no idea what he’s talking about, but it doesn’t take long to find out. Splashed all over the Steele magazine are photos of Alice and me at Shore Park.

  What the FUCK?

  There’s one of us holding hands as we’re waiting in line for a ride and another when we were in one of the restaurants. There’s even one of us kissing, strapped into our seats, as we waited for one of the roller coasters to start.

  Are they fucking stalking us?

  Sexiest Geek of the Year, Harry Carter, with His Queen of Exitium, Wow Fans with Their Devotion!

  If I need to put myself out there for the sake of Blitz, I’ll suck it up. But no way does that give anyone the right to violate Alice’s privacy. I’ll fucking wow them with a lawsuit so fast they won’t know what’s hit them. I’m still fuming after my usual early morning run in the local park, and shower, and am about to leave for work when Caleb calls.

  “You’ve seen it, then.” It’s not a question, and my growl is all the response he needs. “Everyone at work’ll know you and Alice are dating by now. Not much you can do about it.”

  “I know.” I fork my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know how Alice is gonna take it, though.”

  “I’ll tell the guys to lay off. They’ll do it for Alice.”

  That’s true. Is that the only reason she wanted to keep it a secret, because she didn’t want the guys joking about it? It seems unlikely. She’s not a fragile flower who can’t give as good as she gets. On the other hand, that’s preferable to the other reason that’d been bugging me. That she just didn’t want anyone to know we were dating, period.

  I guess it won’t be long before Lucas finds out, either.

  “Okay.” I leave my apartment and make my way to the car.

  “Thing is,” Caleb says, “it’s a great byline.”

  I scoff in disbelief. “Sexiest geek and his queen of Exitium?”

  “Fuck off. I’m talking about the plug for Blitz. Yeah, they invaded your privacy, but the write-up is gold.”

  Since I didn’t read any further than the infuriating headline, I can’t comment on that. “I’m still going to apply for an injunction.”

  “Sure. But I’m just saying. And Jarrod loves it.”

  Obviously, Caleb was cc’d into the same email I got. Didn’t even notice. And although I’d put up with the unwanted intrusion for the sake of Blitz, I won’t put Alice through this.

  “Doesn’t matter. Alice is off-limits.”

  …

  Alice

  Since Mum needs the car today, I’m taking the bus to work. It’s amazing how quickly I’ve got used to the independence of driving myself around and not having to rely on public transport. Next on my to-do list is to find a trustworthy, secondhand car.

  After the horrible argument Mum and I had last week, when she found out about Harry, I was half expecting her to have another go about him the next day. But she didn’t. She’s been brilliant, and it’s such a massive relief that she now knows that when I go out I’m with him and not doing some random work-related thing.

  I’ve told her heaps of times it’s not serious, and we’re just having fun until I go to university. Is it me or her I’m trying to convince? She’s never tried to dispute it, but sometimes I see disbelief lurking behind her smile.

  Not much I can do about that. But come the weekend, and she’ll see I’m telling her the truth.

  Stop counting down the hours.

  My phone rings with a text from Harry, which lightens my mood, until I read his message.

  We’re all over the Net again. Heads r gonna roll.

  There’s a sick sensation in the pit of my stomach as I check the work emails and see one from Oscar Jarrod. There’re no links, but I don’t have to be a brain surgeon to figure out it has something to do with Steele. Sure enough, there we are, our private moments exposed to the online world.

  I can’t even read the copy, as my vision’s blurry. It was bad enough they paraded our very first kiss in public, but this is so much worse, because this has nothing to do with their sodding awards night.

  It was just some opportunistic arsehole who happened to be in the right place at the right time. And then sold the pictures to the only place that’d be interested in publishing them. I click back and reread Jarrod’s email. Great PR!!

  Is that all he cares about? Then again, why wouldn’t he? He lives for this kind of exposure and always manages to tie it back somehow to his own sprawling enterprises.

  Harry isn’t Oscar Jarrod, though. He’d never exploit what we have for the sake of promoting Blitz. He hates being in the public eye.

  I stare out of the window, but all I can see is Harry’s face. He didn’t plan this, but just like our Cinderella kiss, Jarrod is all over the PR opportunities. He’ll be in England in a few days, and, judging by his reactions to our unintentional promo, he’s more than keen to invest in Blitz’s expansion into the States.

  Harry can’t afford to rock the boat. Before Jarrod arrives, I’ll be in Durham, so I’m just going to have to suck it up and pretend it’s no big deal.

  ...

  I take a deep breath and steel myself against the good-natured jibes that are going to bombard me as soon as I walk into Blitz.

  Except no one refers to it at all, which is even worse, since it can only mean one thing. Harry’s told everyone to shut up about it.

  The morning flies by, but only because there’s so much to show Charlie, who started work here yesterday. He’s not only brilliant, but everyone likes him and he’s also a total caffeine addict.

  When Harry emerges from the Dev Testing Area, where he’s been all morning with a couple of the developers, he strolls into my office, and Charlie beats a hasty retreat. And here I was thinking he’d miraculously not heard the latest gossip.

  Harry shuts the door behind Charlie and throws me an apologetic look. “Sorry, Alice. The people at Steele are pushing their luck.”

  “Just ignore i
t. It’ll blow over.” As soon as I leave.

  He scowls and parks his butt on the edge of my desk. “Boundaries are being crossed.”

  Since there’s no need to hide things anymore, I take his hand. “It’s okay.”

  He gives me a brooding look. “Next week, you won’t have to worry about this anymore.”

  Somehow, I manage to smile, because he’s not telling me anything I don’t already know, but his easy acceptance of our imminent parting still hurts way more than it should.

  Chapter Twenty

  Harry

  I’m taking Alice out to dinner and the movies tonight, while Di and her team transform Blitz for Alice’s leaving party tomorrow. By the sound of it, Di’s roped half the guys at Blitz into helping her, and amazingly Alice doesn’t have a clue.

  I pick her up at her house, as her mum’s working a late shift and has the car. Alice is wearing a pink denim jacket and a dress that shows off her gorgeous legs. Although she always looks hot, tonight, in those high heels, she’s smoking.

  “I’m glad you’re on the menu tonight.” I wrap my arms around her and hold her close, inhaling her perfume like it’s my reason for existing.

  “If that’s a subtle hint that you want to skip the restaurant and movies, then I’ve bad news for you.”

  We walk to the car, and I hold open the door so she can slide inside. “I can wait.” She’s staying the night, and although I haven’t asked her yet, tomorrow as well. Hell, why wouldn’t she? It’ll be out last night together for a while.

  The Italian restaurant is about a twenty-minute drive. The soft lighting sets the right mood, the round tables have white tablecloths to the floor, and original artwork graces the walls. It’s the kind of place Lucas, Mac, and I used to frequent with Mum and Dad when we were growing up, but I’ve rarely set foot inside a classy restaurant in the last five years.

  We’ve just finished sharing our desserts—traditional tiramisu for me and chocolate fudge cake with cream for Alice—and I’m dying for coffee when my phone rings.

  “My sister has great timing.” I nearly shove my phone back in my pocket, when her message from a few weeks ago echoes through my mind.

  Are you dead?

  “This won’t take long,” I tell Alice, who smiles and shakes her head.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  I take the call. “Mac, can I get back to you?”

  She’s almost incoherent, and my smile slides from my face. “What? Slow down. Are you okay?”

  “It’s Archimedes. They had to put him to sleep. It was awful.”

  “Aw, shit.” I slump back in my chair as memories of that big, fat cat play through my mind. Mum’s last cat. It’s like another thread binding her to us has unraveled, and I let out a ragged sigh.

  “Can you come ’round now? We’re burying him next to the others.”

  That pulls me back to the present. “I can’t right now. I’m out with Alice.”

  “Bring her, too. She’s a cat person, so it’s okay.”

  I have no answer to that because how does Mac know Alice is a cat person? They’ve only met a few times at work.

  “Harry.” There’s a touch of hysteria in Mac’s voice now. “You have to come. We have to say good-bye to him properly. You know that.”

  “I’ll speak to Alice.”

  When I end the call, Alice takes my hand. “What’s the matter?”

  “We’ve been invited to the funeral for my mum’s cat.”

  “Oh,” she says, like that’s a perfectly normal thing to be invited to. “I’m so sorry. A funeral?”

  “It’s tradition. Look, we don’t have to. We had plans, and it’s fine if you’d—”

  “It’s okay. You can’t break tradition. How old was the cat?”

  “About nineteen. He had a good innings.”

  She’s silent for a moment. “Your mum’s last cat.”

  She remembers I told her that? A weird pain pierces through my chest. “All six of them died during the last five years. It’s harder on Mac, as she still lives at home.”

  Alice squeezes my fingers. “No, it’s not.” Her voice is soft, and I give her a tired smile. Because she’s right.

  It’s bloody hard for me, too.

  …

  Alice

  Despite the London traffic, it only takes half an hour before we arrive at Harry’s childhood home in Notting Hill. I try not to be overawed but fail. It’s one thing admiring the mid-Victorian, three-storied house online, but it didn’t quite feel real then. And even though it’s dark outside, there’s no disguising the elegant grandeur of the Tudor-Gothic style of the residence or the fact it has a detached garage and horseshoe driveway.

  I think my entire house would fit inside that garage.

  As we approach the front door, Harry threads his fingers through mine.

  “Lucas is here.” There’s a grim note in his voice, and I follow his glance to where a low-slung sports car is parked.

  Nerves attack me. Even though I was touched that Mackenzie had invited me, now I’m having second thoughts. “Are you sure it’s okay I’m here? I mean, it feels like it should be a private family thing.”

  He pulls me close. “She likes you.”

  Oh, wow. I didn’t expect that, and I smother my inappropriate smile. “That’s nice.”

  He inserts a key into the lock and opens the door.

  The central staircase is a feature in its own right, and the whole place is flooded with light from a huge chandelier that hangs from the center of an impressive ceiling molding. He’s barely shut the door when Mackenzie comes into the hall.

  She and Harry hug, and I’m seriously regretting being here. She probably only extended an invite to me out of good manners, not in a million years expecting I’d accept. And usually I wouldn’t, but I didn’t want to cut short my penultimate night with Harry.

  “Alice.” She tears herself from her brother and gives me a watery smile. “I’m so pleased you’re here. Harry pretends to be such a tough nut, but he’s a bit of a cat person on the quiet.”

  “I know.” Goldie and Bambi can’t get enough of him on the brief occasions he’s stepped inside my house. Harry grunts, like he’s not sure how he’s supposed to respond to that. Mackenzie loops her arms through ours and leads us across the hall to one of the side rooms. I remember why I’m here. “I’m so sorry about your cat.”

  Further words die in my throat as my gaze fixes on the grand piano in the corner of the room, which I doubt would squeeze into our living room at home. The period furniture looks authentic, the wood is scuffed, and the upholstery worn around the edges, which gives the whole room a warm and lived-in vibe.

  “Thanks,” Mackenzie says. “Everyone, this is Alice.”

  His dad is an older version of Harry, with just a touch of gray at the temples, and although I get the feeling he doesn’t have the faintest idea why I’m there, he’s very pleasant in a vague kind of way.

  “And this is Margo,” Harry says, and my sense of reality slips sideways. Margo is the anchor on a hard-hitting talk show on the BBC, where she shreds politicians on a regular basis. There’s also Duke, a rock star who my mum was crazy about in her teens, and who now heads an international charity for refugee children and has a reputation for being a real hard arse.

  They’re lovely to me, although it doesn’t help unlock my frozen tongue. All I can manage is a strangled, “Hello, nice to meet you,” which makes me cringe inside because we’re here for a cat’s funeral.

  Margo then winds her arm around Mackenzie’s shoulders, and Duke gives Harry a play punch on the arm. “Sexiest geek, eh? It’s always the quiet ones you’ve gotta watch, isn’t it?”

  He directs this remark to me, and all I can think is Mum still listens to all of your music, which is hardly the right response. “Um, yes.”

  I had no idea Harry’s family is such good friends with high-flying celebrities. It’s obvious they’re right at home here. And although it’s not the kind of th
ing you just come out and share, Margo and Duke are huge. A warning would’ve been good.

  “Sexiest geek?” His dad appears bemused, and Duke soon fills him in on the details while Harry hunches his shoulders and scowls at his shoes. It’s an effort to stop staring at him, but while I love him in jeans and trainers, he takes my heart to a whole new level when he goes casual chic.

  Lucas strolls in. Even though I’ve never met him, there’s no mistaking him, but it’s the woman who follows him that grabs my attention.

  Yolanda.

  My stomach pitches. I asked Harry outright about her the other day. Why didn’t he tell me she was just a friend of the family? But he acted like he hardly knew who I was talking about.

  “Come on,” Mackenzie says, marching over to the French doors, and we all follow her into the garden, which has old-fashioned street lamps dotted around, giving plenty of light to see the expanse of lawn and multiple flower beds.

  Mackenzie leads us to the far corner where there’s a gorgeous rose garden, with a fountain in the center of a naked woman with the head of a lioness. Oh, right…this must be the pet cemetery.

  I shift from one foot to the other and can’t help glancing at Yolanda again. She’s on the other side of Harry. In ripped jeans and without any noticeable makeup on her flawless olive complexion, she looks effortlessly fabulous.

  Relief washes through me that at least I’m not in my usual nondesigner jeans and trainers. I’d be even more out of place.

  I try to concentrate on Mackenzie, who’s scattering rose petals over a newly turned patch of earth, but it’s a little unnerving. Before I can stop myself, I glance over at Duke, who’s standing between Lucas and Mr. Carter. I can’t believe I’ve met Mum’s idol. She’ll freak when I tell her.

  I forcibly tear my gaze away. Mackenzie is giving a eulogy, and I swallow the lump in my throat. Could I do this for Goldie or Bambi? But I don’t want to think about that. They’re going to live for years. It doesn’t stop my eyes from watering though.

  And I still can’t stop giving Duke and Margo furtive sideways peeks.

  …

  Harry

  I always hate when Mac does this, although it’s my own fault. Lucas and I thought it was a good idea to start this ritual when Empedocles died eight months after Mum, but it gets harder each time.