He’d heard every word we said.
Chapter 23
We all came back from Italy slightly changed. Mya spent less time hanging around with me and Fleur and more time with her parents. Whenever I tried to broach the subject of her dad, she brushed me off and said everything was fine. I gave her space, knowing easily how often “fine” could fall apart at a moment’s notice. All I could do was be there for her when it did.
Samir avoided me like the plague. Every time our paths did cross, he was accompanied by a different girl. He didn’t spare me a glance. I told myself I couldn’t care less. What had happened between us in the car in Italy was a mistake. I spent the rest of the semester focusing more on my classes, going out less and less. I didn’t need any distractions.
Somehow I made it through exams, cramming in the library with my friends. Since our final exams made up most of our total class grade, finals were a big deal at the International School. Copious amounts of caffeine pills and late-night pizza runs became a staple around the dorms. I had five finals in total. By the end of the two-week exam period I was so relieved to be done I didn’t even bother obsessing over my grades.
I was officially burned out.
I had one day—and night—left in London before I flew home.
“Is everything set with your flight?” my grandmother asked during our weekly phone call.
“Yep. I get in at two in the afternoon.”
“We’ll be there to pick you up.”
I grinned. “I can’t wait to see you guys.”
“We can’t wait to see you, either, honey. We’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” I hesitated. “Have you heard anything from Dad? Do you think he’ll be home a few days before Christmas?”
Silence filled the line.
“Grandma?”
“He said he was going to call you…”
My heart lurched. I already knew what she was going to say before the words left her mouth.
“He hasn’t.”
She sighed. “I’m so sorry, Maggie.”
I knew it.
“What is it this time? Another mission he just couldn’t refuse?” I didn’t bother to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Why doesn’t he just say what it really is? He doesn’t care about any of us and he doesn’t care about spending Christmas with us.”
With me.
“Maggie! You know that’s not true.”
Actually, I didn’t. I loved my grandparents and I knew they loved me. But my father was their only son. And we were never going to agree on this.
“I’m sorry. It’s fine. I have to go, though. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I hung up the phone just as the tears began to fall.
* * *
I stared down at my phone screen. My finger hovered over the keys. I needed a distraction, something to get my mind off of my conversation with my grandmother. I wanted to forget, just for a little bit. I didn’t want to hurt anymore.
I stared at the cream-colored business card on my desk, lying next to my phone. My fingers traced the raised black ink.
Hugh Mitchell. Cobalt. Owner.
It was now or never.
The cafeteria consensus—Mya, Fleur, Samir and Michael—was three to one that I should call him. Samir, unsurprisingly, had been the lone dissenter. He had shaken his head when I asked the rest of the table what I should do about Hugh.
“You’ll regret it,” he told me, before turning his attention back to his current girl of the week.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I would regret it. But right now I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be good Maggie who always toed the line and never took any chances. I wanted to be someone else.
Fuck it all.
I set the business card down on my desk, picking up my cell phone. With shaky fingers I dialed his number, part of me hoping he would answer, another part hoping he wouldn’t.
He answered on the third ring.
“This is Hugh.”
I paused for a moment.
“Hello?”
Somehow I had forgotten how good his voice sounded. That crisp British accent made my toes curl. I sucked in a deep breath, my heart pounding madly in my chest. I should have written down a script or something.
“Hi, it’s Maggie.”
I could hear the smile in his voice. “How are you?”
I struggled to calm my raging nerves. “I’m good. I’ve been traveling a bit,” I babbled, realizing my best intentions were going awry.
“Where did you go?”
“Italy. Venice.”
“I love Venice. One of my favorite cities.”
I grinned, the knot of tension in my stomach loosening slightly. “Me, too. It was amazing.”
“Speaking of Italian, I know this great restaurant in Chelsea. Best pizza you can get in London. You interested?”
“Yes,” I squeaked. “I’m definitely interested.”
“Good. Why don’t I pick you up for dinner in an hour or so? You up for it?”
I heard myself saying yes even as I was studying my appearance in the mirror. I wasn’t wearing any makeup and my hair was a mess.
“I’ll be there.”
* * *
“Hold still.” Fleur held the curling iron over my hair. “I only have another ten minutes to finish your hair.”
I dabbed some lipstick on, struggling to contain all of the nervous energy running through my body. “You’re a lifesaver.”
Fleur grinned. “I know. So I take it you called him?”
“I did.”
“What made you decide to do it?”
“I just…needed a distraction. Or something. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, it does.”
“Where is he taking you?” Noora asked.
“A restaurant in Chelsea.”
Fleur ran the curling iron through my hair, the motion releasing a silky brown spiral. “I think it was the right decision. If you hadn’t have called him, you just would have spent the rest of the year thinking about what might have been. Now you’ve taken the what ifs out of things. And he’s definitely interested in you if he asked you out to dinner.” She grinned. “Now go out and get laid.”
I laughed. “We’ll see.”
Noora grinned. “I’m not sure I totally agree with Fleur’s advice, but you do look great.”
“Thanks.”
She came over and gave me a swift hug. “My flight leaves in a few hours. Have a good break.”
“You, too.”
She left the room, leaving me and Fleur getting ready. Fleur stared at my reflection in the mirror, our gazes locking. The desk and an old glass mirror created the perfect makeshift vanity.
“Take it from someone who knows—don’t leave anything to chance. You have a shot with this guy. Make your move tonight.”
Chapter 24
There was something magical about London nights, something in the air that whispered possibilities—and adventure on the horizon.
It was in the air tonight.
I wore one of my own outfits—a black wrap dress with a plunging neckline and short hemline that made up for the demure long sleeves. It had been a massive find at H&M, which was rapidly becoming one of my favorite stores. I paired the dress with a killer pair of black leather high-heeled boots and chunky Lucite jewelry. Thanks to Fleur’s hair magic, my long brown hair fell in wild curls around my face.
I could hardly recognize myself. Sometime during the last few months I had changed. For the most part I still looked the same. My hair was still brown, my hips still curvy, my boobs smaller than I would have liked. It was just the packaging that was different.
But no matter how much my clothes had changed, I still felt the same rush of nerves at the sight of Hugh’s Ferrari roaring up the street, the same feeling of disbelief.
Tonight was exactly what I needed. I needed to suspend reality, just for a moment. I wanted nothing to do with Maggie from South Carolina. Tonight I could b
e someone else.
The car came to a stop in front of the building. Hugh killed the engine and opened the car door, sliding gracefully out of the driver’s seat. His gaze settled on me. A low whistle of appreciation fell from his lips.
“Babe, you’re a knockout.”
I flushed with pleasure, thinking I could say the same about him. Tonight he wore an inky-purple velvet jacket, perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders. It was the kind of thing no self-respecting guy in South Carolina would have ever worn—but on Hugh it looked exactly right. His long legs were encased in dark denim jeans, a snowy-white collared dress shirt peeking out from the jacket. Expensive leather loafers completed the look.
“You ready?”
I nodded, crossing the distance between us and taking his outstretched hand, loving the feel of our fingers linked together. Just that little bit of bare skin against mine was enough to send a whole other level of anticipation through me.
I wanted him, and yet—
It was different from how I felt with Samir. I didn’t feel desperate; I didn’t feel out of control. It was a welcome change—
We rode through Kensington, the car engine the only sound between us, our hands linked. I told him about my trip while he talked about how busy he had been at the bar the past month. London passed by us, a flicker of lights and sounds I had begun to associate with the city. I tilted my head up, staring at the midnight sky, its expanse teeming with possibilities.
Hugh released my hand, maneuvering the Ferrari into a narrow parallel parking space.
I reached for the door handle.
“Wait.”
His voice—the sexy timbre of it—sent a wave of desire through me.
Hugh reached over, wrapping his hands in my hair, pulling my face toward his. He kissed me full on the mouth, his tongue licking into mine. His kisses were nothing like Samir’s. Whereas Samir’s kisses were urgent and frantic, Hugh kissed me softly, lazily. He kissed me as though this was just a prelude, and we had all the time in the world.
“Seeing you like that, in that dress, has been driving me crazy.” His fingers trailed down my neck, hovering over my collarbone, one reaching out to trace the sharp line. He trailed his fingers lower, leaving a path of goose bumps in his wake. His fingers hovered just above my cleavage.
“We should probably go eat,” I whispered, my body a haze of emotions. We had just gone from zero to sixty in no time at all and as always, I was playing catch-up.
Hugh got out of the car, opening the car door for me. The move was so smooth, so graceful, it took my breath away.
He led me into the restaurant, my body pressed against his side, his hand on the small of my back, guiding me forward through the crowd. I reveled in the feel of him behind me, the knowledge that he was there, that I was on his arm, bolstered my confidence. Tonight I felt beautiful.
The restaurant was everything Hugh promised and more. It wasn’t as fancy as some of the places I’d been. Rather, the decor was clean and modern, everything sleek while still being comfortable. It was perfect.
I normally would have been too embarrassed to eat pizza in front of a guy, but the food was too good to not be fully enjoyed. We ordered a bacon-and-avocado pizza to share. It was an unlikely yet delicious combo that we topped off with a bottle of champagne. When we finished, Hugh guided me out of the restaurant, his arm wrapped around my shoulders.
“What time is your flight tomorrow?” he asked, his lips grazing my ear.
I had no idea. With him this close, the musky smell of his cologne filling my nostrils, I was pretty sure I could barely remember my own name, much less my travel arrangements. “Early. Morning, I think,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Want to come back to my place for a bit?”
I hesitated. I wasn’t drunk enough for that question to not give me pause. Did I want to go back to his place? Yes…and no. I definitely wasn’t ready to have sex with him; I doubted a guy like Hugh was going to be satisfied by just making out. And I had no idea how to explain the emotions raging through me.
It wasn’t that I was even saving myself for marriage. I’d never planned on waiting that long. But I was saving myself for love. For something more. And as hot as Hugh was, and as much as I wanted to see what he looked like under that purple velvet jacket, I couldn’t throw away that one last hope that my first time would be with someone I loved.
“Why don’t we go meet up with some of my friends?” I suggested instead.
Fleur had mentioned a bunch of people were celebrating the end of semester at a new club that had just opened in Soho. The club became infamous overnight for failing to admit a pop star who showed up in tennis shoes—trainers, as the Brits called them. Now it was the hottest spot in London. Fleur had offered to put me and Hugh on the list just in case we decided to stop by. Considering the kiss in his car, the club seemed like the safest bet.
Something that might have been disappointment flickered across Hugh’s face before it was replaced by his characteristic charm. “You’re going to make me chase you, aren’t you?”
Somehow that seemed to be the easiest explanation I could offer. And if it kept him interested, I wasn’t going to correct him. “Maybe.”
He considered this for a moment, his gaze raking me over from head to toe. He winked at me, and my heart turned over in my chest.
“Could be fun.”
Chapter 25
We pulled up in front of Orion, the line in front of the club already around the block. Whatever concerns I might have had about Fleur failing to get us on the VIP list were dissolved by the way the bouncers drooled over Hugh’s car.
He grinned at me, his expression unbelievably boyish. “It has its perks.”
No kidding.
As Hugh opened my car door, I spotted Fleur, Samir, Michael and some other kids from school heading toward the club on foot. Samir had his arm around a pretty blonde. She whispered something in his ear and Samir threw his head back, laughter spilling out. Suddenly his head turned, his gaze sharpening on the car first before traveling to me. For a moment our gazes locked. He didn’t look happy to see me.
I jerked my head away.
Guilt filled me. A few weeks ago I’d been straddling Samir in the back of a car. Now I was with Hugh. I tried to tell myself Samir didn’t care, that none of it mattered. It was hard to do when I read the accusation in his eyes.
I ignored the pang that landed somewhere in the vicinity of my heart.
“Maggie!” Fleur walked over, giving me a quick hug. “I’m glad you made it.” She exchanged hellos with Hugh, her gaze drifting to the Ferrari behind him.
“I’m going to go park the car, babe. I’ll meet you inside.”
I turned away from him, walking toward the entrance, linking arms with Fleur. I wasn’t exactly dressed for a club tonight with my long sleeves, but I figured it was enough to get me in. And if I couldn’t get past the bouncers, then linking arms with Fleur was definitely the trick. She looked amazing tonight.
“Oh, my god, you did not tell me about the car,” she hissed as soon as Hugh drove away.
I grinned. “Pretty amazing, right?”
“That car is seriously hot. Have you driven it?”
“Are you crazy? His car is probably worth more than my life.”
“I’m sure you guys can come up with some kind of a reasonable trade.” She winked at me, a knowing grin spreading across her face.
“Ha, ha.”
“You look good, by the way. Especially your hair.”
“Okay, are you guys not going to fill me in on who the fine guy in the Ferrari is?”
We both turned at the sound of Michael’s voice.
“Of course we’re going to fill you in,” I answered, looping my other arm through his. We followed the group into the club while I shared all of the details of my date with Hugh.
“Who do you think made that jacket?” Michael asked. “Gucci? It looks like it’s Gucci.”
I gig
gled. “I have no clue. He’s pretty much perfect, though, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is.” Fleur pulled a face. “If you weren’t such a good friend, I could hate you, you know…” Her eyes narrowed as her voice trailed off. “What the fuck is he doing?”
I followed her gaze. Samir had completely taken over the VIP table with his posse of girls. Three of his Arab friends sat there, Omar among them, but the rest of the chairs were occupied by girls, most of whom were wearing what definitely looked more like lingerie rather than actual clothing meant to be worn in public.
“Classy.” I didn’t bother keeping the bite out of my voice.
Fleur rolled her eyes. “He’s been a pain in the ass lately. I don’t know what his fucking problem is, but it’s getting old fast.”
The girl whispered something to Samir and he threw his head back, laughing.
I was definitely going to need another drink.
I grabbed one of the shots the waitress was passing around, tossing it back in one motion. The tequila hit my throat with a burn. I coughed.
Fleur’s eyes widened. “You okay?”
“Fabulous.”
Samir stopped talking to the girl and stared at me. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but then he closed it. Annoyance flashed through me like a lightning storm.
“Something you wanted to say?” My voice had a bite, my smile bordering on feral.
“Be careful.”
I glared at him. “I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter.”
To prove my point I grabbed another shot of tequila. This time I was ready for the burn, the liquid going down in a smooth gulp.
Something flashed in his eyes. Anger, frustration, judgment—who knew and I didn’t care. The girl on his arm whispered something but he ignored her. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”
Half a bottle of champagne at dinner. Two shots of tequila. I wasn’t drunk—just squishy.
My eyes narrowed, my gaze lingering on the flavor of the month. The petty part of me hated that she was my polar opposite. If Samir had a type, it definitely wasn’t me.
I See London 1 Page 14
