British Daddy To Go: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Adams, S. C.

  I swallow down a scream. Jenna has been my best friend since high school, but my parents hate her. The biggest problem is that Jenna’s parents are much more relaxed than mine. While I had a six o’clock curfew, even on weekends, all throughout high school, Jenna could stay out as late as two in the morning. She lost her virginity at sixteen, and my parents overheard her telling me all about it, so they grounded me from seeing her for a month.

  No matter what my parents tried, though, they couldn’t keep Jenna and me apart. It drives them crazy that even distance didn’t stop me from being best friends with Jenna. When she went away to school, my parents were sure that would be the end of it. If anything, the distance had made our friendship stronger.

  “I wasn’t asking permission, Mom,” I say calmly. “I’m twenty-five years old. If I want to go see my friend, I’m going to go.”

  “I thought we’d have a nice family dinner. Don’t you want to spend time with your parents?”

  I take a deep breath. Guilt is my mother’s specialty, but it won’t work. I had a long day at work, and I haven’t seen Jenna in weeks. I’m going to see her. We have a lot to talk about.

  “We had dinner together last night, and we’ll have dinner together again tomorrow night.”

  Mom stands taller with her hands on her hips. It’s an interesting sight since she barely stands five-three with her back fully extended. I got my five-five height from my father. “You know I don’t like you hanging around with that Jenna girl. Can’t you spend the evening with one of your other friends?”

  What other friends? I want to ask. Being so sheltered hasn’t exactly opened up a ton of doors for me. No one wants to be friends with a girl who can barely leave her house. It’s a miracle I was allowed to get a job on Madison Avenue. Getting a job was supposed to be the first step toward making new friends, but I’m not sure about that anymore. The people at Havisham’s are nice, and I really like them. However, I’m not sure they’re the hanging out type. We probably won’t be getting drinks after work any time soon. The salespeople are closer to my age, but they are less likely to hang out with a girl who looks like me.

  “I’m going to Jenna’s. I’ll see you when I get home.”

  She sighs. “Be home by ten. You have work in the morning.”

  At least my curfew is later now that I’m an adult. I doubt any other twenty-five-year-old woman has to be home by a certain time. That can’t be normal.

  “Bye, Mom. Love you.”

  I leave before she has a chance to argue again and before Dad gets involved. Mom is more of a pushover than Dad, and he hates Jenna even more than my mother does. Daddy doesn’t like his little girl to be under the influence of someone as full of vices as Jenna is. Plus, he prefers that I only spend time with people I meet at church. Jenna has never set foot in a religious temple in her life. Her parents didn’t even have her baptized.

  Jenna’s apartment is in Brooklyn, so I hop on the subway to go across town. My parents think Jenna lives uptown. If they found out about Brooklyn, I would have to jump out of my window to ever see my best friend.

  It takes me thirty minutes to get to the apartment, leaving me only a couple of hours before I’ll have to hop the train home. Jenna and I have more than two hours’ worth of catching up to do.

  The tiny brunette squeals when she opens the door to find me.

  “You’re here!” she cries, dragging me into a tight hug. “I can’t believe the wardens let you out of jail!”

  I laugh into her shoulder. “It was a hard fight, but I held my ground. Mom tried to block the door.”

  “Wait… seriously?”

  “No, of course not. She asked me not to leave, but I left anyway.”

  “What time do you have to be home?”

  I shrug, but she doesn’t let me off the hook. “Ten.”

  Jenna’s laughter rings through her Brooklyn neighborhood. I’m worried her neighbors are going to complain. “Typical. Well, let’s get inside, then. I have so much to tell you!”

  The apartment is as beautiful as I expected from Jenna. We became friends because of our love for art and design. She channels her creativity into designing the perfect rooms for upscale apartments while I make amateur dresses in my bedroom.

  “Can I get you a drink? Soda? Water?”

  “I’ll have a soda, please.”

  Jenna disappears around a corner in her one-bedroom abode, and I take the opportunity to really look around. Her front door opens into the living room, which is decorated in Jenna’s typical art deco fashion. The furthest wall is lined with mirrors in a parallel design from thin and short to tall and thick back to thin and short. In front of this display are two dark maroon arm chairs with rounded edges. Her coffee table looks like a bathtub filled with cement, placed on top of a black and gray rug with a varying square design. It reminds of something I would see in a socialite penthouse, not a Brooklyn flat. I’d bet money that Jenna didn’t spend more than a hundred dollars total on this entire room, which makes it all the more impressive.

  “What do you think?” Jenna asks when she catches me admiring her living room. “Cool, right?”

  “I love it! It’s very you.”

  “Not you, though. You would have vintage lace everywhere and portraits of old people you’ve never met.”

  I settle into one of Jenna’s fancy chairs. “Probably. I wish my parents would let you re-do our apartment. You could make it so much better, even with the thrift store furniture my parents are attached to.”

  “I’d die if the wardens ever let me design your apartment.”

  Jenna’s nickname for my parents used to bother me, but the older I get, the more it seems to fit. Sometimes, they treat me more like a prisoner than a daughter. Actually, I think prisoners have more freedom than I do.

  “Maybe someday.”

  She hands me a can of cola and takes the seat next to me. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

  “I’ve missed you, too! How is your new job?”

  Jenna’s face lights up. “Incredible! I know I’m only a junior designer at the firm, but I already have five clients of my own. According to my boss, I’m the first junior designer to advance this quickly. They seem really impressed with me!”

  While I had stayed home after high school to work at my parents’ dry cleaners, Jenna went to Rhode Island School of Design to study interior design. My parents were thrilled that Jenna would be an inconvenient distance away. They also liked to point out that New York has three of the best design schools in the country, but Jenna didn’t go to any of them. I never told them that Jenna was accepted to Parsons and Pratt but had chosen to go to RISD instead. It wouldn’t have helped. If anything, they would have thought her decision to move two hundred miles away from her parents made her an even worse person than they originally thought.

  After she graduated, Jenna had spent two years travelling the world and learning from interior designers in Paris, Moscow, Egypt, Australia, and a bunch of other exotic places. When she came back to New York last year, she was a shoe-in for a junior design position at the firm she’d interned for during college. They hired her in a heartbeat, and she’s been there ever since. It’s no surprise she’s climbing the ladder. They had wanted her to start working for them before she’d even had a diploma in hand.

  “I’m really proud of you, Jenna. You’ve made your dreams come true. I envy you.”

  She places a gentle hand on my arm. “You’ll get your chance, too. Just look at your designs! You’re untrained, but you’re still better than half of the designers out there.”

  I roll my eyes. “You have to say that because you’re my best friend. I’ll probably be working at the dry cleaners until I die.”

  Jenna cringes. “That’s still the plan? Even though you got a job at the tux store?”

  “Still the plan.”

  “I’m sorry, Maggie. I know how important design is to you.”

  She’s probably the only person on the planet who gets it. At l
east I can live vicariously through her.

  “Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Fine. I had a date last night.”

  I sit up a bit straighter. “Yeah? How’d it go?”

  “Absolutely awful!” she laughs. “We went to Piccoli Trattoria because he said I look like I must enjoy Italian food.”

  “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She shrugs. “Hell if I know!” We both laugh. “So he made me meet him there instead of picking me up, which is whatever since it’s in Brooklyn and he’s from White Plains. I get there, and he opens the door, walks in, and lets it slam behind him without even pretending to hold it for me!”

  “No!” I gasp.

  “Yes!” she screams, struggling to contain her laughter. “It only went downhill from there. He ordered for me. Guess what he picked?”

  “What?”

  “Calamari!”

  “No!” I yell, nearly spilling my soda. “He didn’t bother to ask? What did you do?”

  She tries to collect herself, but it doesn’t work. “I told the waitress I’d prefer eggplant pasta and then told Peter I’m a vegetarian. He didn’t talk to me again for the rest of the night. And… guess what?”

  “I’m afraid to guess.”

  “He made me pick up the check. The entire check! I’m all for paying my half, but he made me pay for his, too!”

  “No!” I say for the third time. We dissolve into an uncontrollable fit of giggles, completely forgetting our depressing conversation from earlier. I can always count on Jenna’s dating woes to make me feel better about my life.

  “How about you?” Jenna asks when we’ve both calmed down. “Are your parents letting you get out more?”

  I’ve always had to live through Jenna’s dating woes. My parents wouldn’t even let me go to school-sponsored dances. I missed senior prom, but Jenna had taken lots of pictures so that I could feel like I was there, too.

  “Oh, you know them. If I stayed an old maid until I died, that would be fine with them.”

  Jenna rolls her eyes. “You could do that, but why? Don’t they want grandkids?”

  “Yes, but somehow, they expect me to get pregnant through immaculate conception,” I say, only half joking.

  Jenna giggles. “So, how are you going to get pregnant for real?”

  I blush, and Jenna’s eyes bug out. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  “Not really, but I will.” And then I do. I tell her everything that happened with Sean in great detail, the way she always tells me about her conquests.

  When I finish the story, all Jenna can say is, “Are you for real?”

  I nod. “I’m so conflicted, Jenna! He’s so hot, but this is wrong. I shouldn’t be so attracted to him. We don’t know each other at all! But at the same time, he was commanding and dashing. And British! That accent, Jenna! You should hear it. Then you’d get it.”

  Jenna squeals. “Oh my god, I love British accents!”

  I smile. “His accent is really upper crust too. He’s definitely rich and successful. And what am I, by contrast?”

  “You’re a beautiful, talented young woman – that’s what you are!”

  I shake my head, unable to believe her. My parents didn’t raise me to be beautiful or talented. They raised me to be obedient.

  “Listen to me, Maggie. You can’t live in your parents’ house forever. Someday, you have to leave the nest. Sean seems to be the start of your progression.”

  “What if it doesn’t work out?”

  “Then it will with someone else. The point is, I can already see you breaking out of your shell.”

  I bury my head in my hands. “This is crazy. It was only one day. Barely even that!”

  “Hey,” Jenna says gently. “The greatest love stories start with one day. You know, Cinderella only had a few hours with her prince.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s a fairytale.”

  “You don’t think fairytales can happen in real life?”

  I think about this for a minute. Do I believe in fairytales? My parents always taught me to take what I saw in romantic comedies with a grain of salt. But what if my parents are wrong? What if it is possible to have a great love, like Cinderella and her prince?

  If anyone could do it, it would be me. I’m the perfect Cinderella, except it’s my real parents keeping me locked away.

  Does that mean that Sean could be my prince?

  Jenna’s face brightens with a kind smile. “You’re getting it,” she says.

  She’s right, I am.

  Now, all that’s left is to find out if Sean feels about me the way I do about him.

  If only I didn’t have to wait until his appointment next week to talk to him. If I had one wish, it would be to see him sooner so that we can talk.

  Then, maybe we can get started on our happily ever after. Because for the first time in my life, I believe I deserve one.

  I kiss Jenna’s cheek and thank her for everything. If it weren’t for her, I’d still be sweeping the fireplace.

  Now, I think I can be the girl with the glass slippers.

  8

  Sean

  This is ridiculous, I tell myself as I pace across the street from Havisham’s. I have an appointment.

  This knowledge doesn’t stop the unfamiliar nerves from bubbling in my stomach. What if Maggie doesn’t want to see me? What if she isn’t even working?

  I wasn’t lying when I’d told Greg I needed a new suit for my parents’ visit. My mother, especially, expects my clothes to match my upbringing. I’ve been wearing tailored suits since I was eight years old, and that certainly won’t change anytime soon.

  My watch reads 2:59 in the afternoon. I’m supposed to be inside Havisham’s at three. There’s no excuse for me to dawdle any longer. I’ve been out here for almost thirty minutes already.

  As soon as traffic clears, I cross the street. The bell over the door signals my arrival, and I’m immediately accosted by Roger.

  “Mr. Jones! I was thrilled when your assistant called to set up an earlier appointment. To what do we owe this surprise visit?”

  The man bows and scrapes as he usually does. My mother would love to witness this. Perhaps I’ll bring her here on her visit. She does enjoy feeling like royalty.

  “My parents are coming to visit from England in a few weeks, and I’d like some new suits to wear when we’re out for meals.”

  “Excellent!” he screeches, bowing again. “We have just the thing, I’m sure of it!”

  “Lead the way, then,” I encourage. He bows once more and practically skips to the far end of the store. This is where the less formal suits are kept. My parents’ visit doesn’t warrant the same wardrobe as my best friend’s wedding, so the change in style is appreciated.

  Roger starts poking and prodding at various styles while clamoring on about the weather. “Dreadfully hot, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve found it quite pleasant, if I’m honest. Reminds me a bit of home.”

  “Well! Did I ever tell you about my stay in English?”

  He has told me, many times in fact. I scour the room for any sign of Maggie, but she’s not to be seen up front. I assume she’s behind the mysterious black curtain that hid her the first time I saw her beautiful face.

  “I think you’ve mentioned it a time or two,” I say. “Did I ever tell you of the time my mother thought she was setting me up with a duchess?”

  Roger’s face lights up. “You haven’t, Sean! Do tell.”

  I grin. Sometimes it’s nice to give the man a taste of what he wants. If stories from my childhood across the sea make Roger happy, so be it. “Well, we were visiting London, and we met this darling family in the square. My mother was taken with the woman of the family, and they got to talking. Suddenly, the woman was hinting that Duchess would just love to meet me since we were the same age, and perhaps I could show her around? My mother was enamored! I was sixteen and ripe for courting. We set up a date so that I cou
ld show the duchess around London while our parents had drinks and got to know each other better.”

  “She must have been dreadful for you not to marry her, Sean!”

  I laugh. “She was pleasant enough, but it turns out she wasn’t a duchess at all; her name was Duchess! Her family was American transplants, which we should have figured out by their underdeveloped accents. Mother was stricken. To this day, she laments about how close we were to becoming royalty.”

  “What happened to the girl?”

  “She’s married now with a couple of kids. Our mothers are still dear friends, even after it all. Mum has never been good at holding a grudge.”

  “What an excellent story!” Roger says, clapping his hands. “Your childhood must have been filled with stories like that.”

  I haven’t the heart to tell him I grew up much like the average kid did, albeit with a bit more money. I went to public school in England, and I know how to properly drink a tea, but thus ends the excitement of my life.

  “Perhaps I’ll share more with you next time,” I lie. “How about those suits, then?”

  Roger bows. “Of course, Sean! I’ve got a few winners, I think. Let’s get you to the dressing room to try them on.”

  The dramatic man holds twelve different suits in his arms. How a man of his stature can carry so many heavy items at a time baffles me.

  I allow Roger to lead me into the dressing area with his load, though I can tell just by looking that half of them aren’t contenders. Does anyone buy plaid suits anymore? Surely not.

  “Take your time with these, Mr. Jones. I want you to feel confident in your choice!”

  Locked in the dressing room with an array of suits, I finally breathe. After all of my worrying, Maggie hasn’t made a single appearance. Telling Roger a story helped distract me a bit, but my eyes still had constantly darted around to see if Maggie might be lurking. She never was.

  I’m tempted to leave without trying on a single suit, but I really do need to impress Mum when I take her to the best restaurants in the city. Greg has already made us reservations that will surely prove to my mother that New York is almost as good as London.