by Bay, Louise
My heart tugged in my chest. I hated that my sister worried about me. Most of the time she was completely overreacting, but today she’d caught me at a weak moment. The news about David had been a shock. It was a reminder of what my life could have been and had brought into focus everything my life wasn’t. I was feeling less than happy. I just didn’t know how to make it any better.
“I think you’re more cut up about David and this IPO than you’re admitting,” Scarlett said. “And I’m not surprised. I would be too. What happened was awful. He betrayed you and worse he got away with it. You had every right to take a time-out. It was perfectly natural. But it’s been four years and I miss my bold, go-getting sister who was ready to take on the world. I feel like he stole her, and I want her back.”
A tide of emotions passed over me at my sister’s words—I didn’t know whether to throw up or cry. I’d worked hard not to repeat the same mistakes I’d made with David and my business by not getting emotionally invested in anything, but something was missing. As much as I hated to admit it, Scarlett was right: part of who I used to be, a good part, had disappeared. I closed my eyes and exhaled, trying to stop myself from breaking down in tears in public. Once I had been the girl who was ready to take on the world. I wanted that person back too.
My sister’s hand covered mine and I looked at her. “I love you,” I said.
“I love you too, but don’t get soppy on me. You have to get over this guy and what he did to you, but you seem stuck,” Scarlett said.
I was over him, wasn’t I? We lived in the same city, but I’d deliberately made sure we occupied different worlds. It wasn’t as if I was pining for him, but Scarlett was right—I did feel stuck.
“Please consider going to London,” Scarlett said. “That way you’re not in New York when this whole IPO thing happens, and you can just get some inspiration, get unstuck, and figure out what you want to do when you grow up.” She grinned, always happy when she was reminding me she was older than me.
“If you’ve got nothing keeping you in New York, why not come over for a few weeks, even a few months? It could be a way of pressing the reset button,” Darcy said.
“You are always saying how you want to live moment to moment,” Scarlett said. “Except every moment seems a lot like the last. Why not live a few of your moments in London? You can come back reinvented. Violet King 2 point O.”
I hated it, but Scarlett had a point. The last twelve months, bouncing from waitressing job to waitressing job, hadn’t been fun, however much I tried to insist otherwise. I’d had to change the plan on my cell to the basic, and I’d eaten a lot of toast. I needed a change but going abroad hadn’t even occurred to me. Would going to London really press the reset button? Provide inspiration? Create a Violet ready to take on the world?
“Ryder’s coming back with me, so obviously he’s insisting we take a private plane. You wouldn’t even have to worry about booking a ticket.”
I chuckled. There was a whole world out there I really didn’t understand. Private planes were at the top of the list. But if I didn’t have to spend my last few hundred dollars, and some borrowed ones, on a plane ticket, the list of reasons why I shouldn’t go to London was running short.
“London, huh?”
Darcy squealed. “Yes! And you can come up to the country on weekends to see me.”
“I’d need to get a job out there,” I said, thinking out loud. My three hundred bucks wasn’t going to get me far even if I wasn’t paying rent.
“Restaurants are two a penny in London. You’d walk into a job,” Darcy said.
I wrinkled my nose. “Honestly, I might look for something different. Like Scarlett says, switch things up a little.” I avoided looking at my sister. No doubt she was wearing her I-told-you-so grin.
“Well, let me speak to a few family friends and see what I can do,” Darcy said. “There might be someone looking for something.”
“Are you sure? You letting me stay at the house is so generous and—”
Darcy lifted her palm to face me. “Don’t mention it. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.” I grinned and nodded slowly; maybe a change of scenery was exactly what I needed. If nothing else, the men there had an accent. And judging by the guys in this bar, I had to find a new hunting ground. I might even be able to start thinking about my future for the first time in a long time.
Chapter Two
Violet
London was exactly how I imagined it would be. The black taxis, red phone booths, the rain and old buildings—I loved it all. After locking Darcy’s townhouse, I turned and took the three steps down to the sidewalk. Or pavement, as the British would say. I was going to go back to America as British as I could. As well as the differences in language, I had to master an ability to talk incessantly about the weather. British people talked about the weather as if it were a dysfunctional member of the family they were constantly disappointed in. Even if the sky was blue and the sun was out, they’d complain that they’d not been expecting it and had too many layers on. If it was raining they certainly weren’t happy but, interestingly, if it hadn’t rained for a few days they were all shaking their heads concerned with the lack of precipitation. It was totally bizarre, but I loved it. I’d learned if I wanted to strike up a conversation with a stranger, the weather was my Trojan horse. The topic was the equivalent to the Super Bowl in America, except it was a 365-days-a-year event.
I had a good feeling about today. The sky was blue, I didn’t have too many layers on, my travel pass had twenty pounds on it, and I was about to ace an interview that Darcy had arranged for me. I could feel it in my bones. Today was my day. It had to be. I was down to my last fifty dollars, and if I didn’t get this job I was going to have to call my sister and have her buy me a plane ticket back to the US and the nothing that awaited me.
I’d moved three boxes of things from my apartment the day before I flew to London, plus the suitcase I’d brought with me. Three boxes that included all my clothes, books, mementos, and jewelry. I had no furniture. I didn’t own so much as a fork. For years I’d reveled in my lack of things, and for a long time I’d thought it was super cool I wasn’t tied down to material possessions, but seeing the three boxes in the back of my sister’s car had made me feel pathetic.
Today I was going to resist feeling pathetic. I was all about the interview and the three-month contract it offered. Darcy had heard that one of her grandfather’s friends had a temporary job opening at some barristers’ offices doing administrative work and had arranged an interview. It wasn’t a sure thing—I could still mess the interview up, but I would do my best. I didn’t want to let Darcy down, and I liked the idea of working in a law office. It was something new. The job description hadn’t been specific, but Darcy had told me they needed someone robust and that an American might just work out.
A quick scan of Wikipedia had given me the basics on barristers. I’d figured out that unlike the US, the Brits had two types of lawyers—solicitors and barristers. Barristers wore the weird wigs and gowns and went to court. Solicitors were stuck in the office, in suits, dealing with clients. I had no idea why there had to be a split, but barristers seemed more British with their old-fashioned costumes, and I was obsessing about the British so that worked for me.
I peeked into my tote. The folded square of paper with the address copied out was still there, alongside my cell phone, so I headed to the tube station. I’d planned out my route and left plenty of time. I needed to get off at Holborn tube station and from there I could figure out where I was going with the aid of Google Maps. I had such a great feeling about today.
I reached the entrance to the tube and pressed my travel pass against the payment pad. If I got this job, this would be the route I’d take every day for the next three months. It would be as if I was really living in London. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this excited about anything, let alone a job or a commute. It really did
feel like the start of something—a new beginning.
A seasoned New Yorker, I was used to subway face. There were certain rules you had to abide by when taking public transit—a zipped bag, no eye contact, and an impassive expression. I was pretty sure the tube used the same rulebook, but today, I couldn’t hide my grin. I wanted to share my good mood with everyone.
The train arrived as soon as I stepped on the platform. That had to be a sign—everything was going my way. I stepped on, being careful to Mind the Gap as I was told to do by an electronic voice, and spotted a seat in the corner, but a man who’d got on the train with me was nearer. I watched as he spotted the seat and then turned to me. He had bright blue eyes and a jawline so sharp I wanted to reach out and stroke my fingers along it. He wasn’t my usual type—suits weren’t my thing—but I’d make an exception for someone so tall and handsome. Someone who wore his suit that well.
“Please,” he said, gesturing to the empty seat.
A hotter-than-hot guy offering me a seat? This really was my day. “Thank you.” I went full throttle on my grin.
He paused, our eyes locked for a second, and he nodded and turned away, pulling out a newspaper. My heart was beating a little faster from his stare, and I watched as he shook out the paper, then folded it in sharp, deliberate movements. Was he as concise and deliberate in bed? Would he study my body the way he studied that paper, be as focused? I sighed and took a deep breath. I’d never know.
I turned back to take my seat and saw someone who hadn’t been as distracted by a hot guy sit down in the space that had been meant for me. Apparently, the politeness of the British only lasted so long. I sighed and glanced around, trying to find somewhere to stand where I wouldn’t topple over. I tucked myself in by the door, holding on to the bright yellow handrail that five other hands were also grasping. I also just happened to be wedged right next to my handsome stranger, who was managing to read his newspaper despite the train being so tightly packed. I looked up at him. His fingers were half an inch from my shoulder. I glanced down. His foot was almost touching mine. It was so weird to be so near to a complete stranger. He was close enough to lick.
This dry spell I was experiencing was having me fantasizing about strangers on the tube. Although, I suspected the man I was transfixed with would probably have me thinking wicked thoughts even if I’d had an orgasm five minutes before I’d spotted him. He was delicious.
I hadn’t even kissed a man since coming to London two weeks ago. In New York it was easy to pick up a guy, or respond to a man picking me up. Too easy. And just like waitressing had lost some of its appeal, so had the dating scene. I was bored with it in New York. There was no point in doing the same thing in London; after all, I was here to try something new, to start again. Instead, I’d watched a lot of British TV, practiced my English accent, and walked around exploring the city. Anything to pass the time until my temporary visa came through.
Scarlett was right: There was no point in living for the moment if every moment was the same. I needed to mix things up.
The tube stopped, and I leaned forward, trying to read the name of the station. I was sure I had two more stops to go before Holborn, but I didn’t want to miss it. The stop was Piccadilly Circus, which I’d been to last week and had been disappointed when I’d found neither animals nor acrobats. Just a statue of Eros surrounded by electronic billboards. It was like Times Square’s eccentric but less wealthy cousin. As I straightened out, my hair skimmed the newspaper of the blue-eyed stranger and he glanced down at me. “Whoops,” I said and smiled. He just stared at me, unblinking, and I couldn’t look away so I just stared back. It was almost as if he was trying to communicate with me without words, but what was he trying to say?
Can I kiss you?
Let me take you to dinner?
I’m fantastic in bed, can you tell?
Yes, yes, and a double yes please with whipped cream.
He blinked three times in a row as if he’d been shaken out of a trance, frowned slightly, and then went back to whatever he was reading. I continued to check him out. Even without that jaw and those piercing eyes, he would be attractive. His thick dark-brown hair, the broad shoulders, and the expensive suit—it all just fit together perfectly. His skin was bronzed and smooth and it took a ton of self-control not to reach out to see if it slid against mine the way I imagined it would. His hands were large with long, strong fingers and neat nails that had been trimmed but not manicured. Manicures had become a thing for men in New York, particularly Wall Street types, and it was another reason why I rarely dated suits. Manicures should be a woman-only activity.
Finally, the doors opened on the Piccadilly Circus stop, and I was proven wrong that the train was full because about three thousand more people squeezed into the carriage. I shifted so I was closer to my fantasy man—my foot was in between his and I stared at his chest. We’d been close before but now the sleeve of his arm was brushing my hand and if I took in a deep breath I smelled leather and woods—not strong enough for cologne but too expensive to be just deodorant or soap. Carefully chosen body wash, maybe. The doors beeped and shut, and the train started again, aggressively lurching its way forward. If he hadn’t moved at the same time, I’d be flat against his chest. We adjusted ourselves and the train picked up speed, continuing to see-saw along in an almost hypnotic rhythm. If my stranger noticed me staring, he didn’t say anything and even if he had I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to stop. Then, out of nowhere the train screeched to a halt and my hands flew up to stop myself from falling. Lucky for me they connected with my blue-eyed stranger’s broad, hard chest. For a second I was frozen, unable or unwilling to move, then he gripped my upper arms and put me back on my feet.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his British accent wrapping around me like silk as I removed my hands from his chest.
I wanted to collapse again, just to feel his strength. That was it. His scent, his stare, his voice, and his touch had a thread binding them all together. They all exuded strength—of mind, of body, of character.
“Yes, sorry, not used to the tube, I guess.”
“Keep your legs a little further apart. You’ll balance better,” he replied.
Had he just asked me to open my legs? I grinned and nodded.
He inhaled, expanding his already broad chest, and went back to his paper. I sighed a little more loudly than I meant to, and the woman next to me turned away, trying futilely to get some distance. She probably thought I was medicated. Or crazy. Or both. In an effort to look normal, I pulled out my phone and connected to the Wi-Fi. I’d bring up Google Maps and figure out where I was going when I got off the tube.
We passed through the stations quickly, stopping more frequently than I was used to. With my legs braced further apart, disappointingly, I didn’t fall against my handsome stranger again and in just a few moments, signs for Holborn appeared through the window. I needed to focus and stop fantasizing about impossibly handsome men on the tube. I pushed myself through the crowds of people and made my way to the doors. As they opened, I took three steps forward and just as I reached the platform someone’s elbow turned and knocked my arm so forcefully that my cell phone slipped out of my hand.
My heart began to thunder as I watched in slow motion as my phone, and the map, slipped toward the infamous Gap we were instructed to Mind between the train and the platform. “No,” I shouted as people filed out after me, kicking my phone onto the track.
Fuck. I covered my face with my hands as people rushed past me. I couldn’t believe it. How was I going to get to my interview? All my hopes of a new life, a fresh start, had been pinned on this job. And the last thing I wanted to do was embarrass Darcy by not turning up.
“That was my fault. I’m sorry.”
I turned to find the man who’d made my tube journey a little more interesting. I caught my breath. “Your fault?”
The train started to beep, and its doors closed. Maybe my phone wouldn’t be crushed under the wheels, and I co
uld jump down and get it before the next train arrived?
“I knocked into you,” the stranger replied.
He must have been the one who caught me with his elbow. I hadn’t realized I’d followed him out.
I shook my head. “I should have been more careful.” I glanced down at the tracks now the train had left the station. “There it is.” It didn’t look like my phone had been damaged at all. “Do you think I have time to just jump down and grab it?” I asked him.
A look of horror crossed his face and he pulled me away from the edge of the platform. I glanced down at where his hand was touching my arm. He’d moved me with such force, as if I were just a doll, and I might have been imagining it but I’m sure I could feel the heat of his skin through my coat. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. “The station staff may be able to retrieve it after service closes this evening. If not, call me and I’ll replace it for you.”
I was so busy staring at him I almost didn’t hear what he said and then it registered.
“This evening? No, I need it now.” I started to panic. I had to get to my interview, and with less than five pounds in my wallet, I couldn’t even buy myself a map. “I need the map for directions; I have somewhere to be.” I grabbed his arm, which was still touching mine.
The stranger glanced down at our linked arms and back up into my eyes, with the same expression he’d had on the tube, as if he wanted to say more than he did.
I needed to focus. I had to get to this interview. “Maybe you can give me directions.” I dived into my tote and pulled out the piece of paper that had the address of the barristers’ chambers. Thank God, I’d written the address down. “I need you to tell me how I get here. I can’t be late.”
I showed him the address, which he glanced at, then looked back at me—those blue eyes studying what he saw. “I’m going there myself. I’ll walk you.”
“You will?” Even if he hadn’t looked like he’d just stepped out of a Tom Ford ad campaign and had seemed to make my knees a little weak just from looking at me, I’d have broken all my rules about never getting married and accepted any proposal he had for me in that moment. There was no way I could not turn up to this interview.
