by Lena Skye
She had just only stepped out of the hotel when she received a message from Justin.
Where are you?
About to go out, she replied.
Did you eat?
Yes.
And that was that. She lingered at the carriageway entrance for a few minutes to wait for his reply, but he didn’t. She sighed and began her solo tour. She had downloaded a few maps, her camera was charged, and she had enough money and credit with her to last her for the day, maybe even a month in London if she could.
She wondered if she could still go to the Stonehenge, but according to some reviews, it wasn’t worth the hours wasted in driving. Well, I have one week here, she thought. England had so much history and she wanted to soak in it. She had been a history fiend in high school, and if her parents hadn’t died, she would have loved to be a historian or archaeologist.
Mikaela wished her family was with her. They would have enjoyed this. Right before they died, they had planned a trip to Hawaii. Planned. Past tense. That trip would have been a month after her brother’s special awards. Well, I’m enjoying this for you guys, she thought two hours later. She hadn’t enjoyed a real vacation in a while which wasn’t within a hundred-mile radius, and wished she could post every picture she took but knew she couldn’t. A job was important after everything had ended.
She felt hungry a little while later and found a quaint little café just feet away from the river Thames. She ate with gusto, despite being alone. She didn’t act too touristy though, stopping herself when she’d be on the verge of taking too many photos. Don’t attract too much attention, she told herself. Her personal guide wasn’t here. He wouldn’t be with her the whole time she was here.
The thought of it suddenly disappointed her. Even if he lived here, she wanted to share these experiences with him. Perhaps now that he was back home, he’d finally laugh. Mikaela had never seen him laugh. Sure he’d smile, crack a joke that was barely funny, but he never laughed. Mikaela thought she had a sense of humor. Apparently, Justin Henderson didn’t. Did it come with being CEO? Perhaps it was a façade he wanted to maintain. Whatever it was, she wished she’d heard him laugh, even just once.
Mikaela realized she wanted to make a connection with Justin. She wanted him to like her in the least. She almost laughed to herself, almost snorted into her cup of tea. Him? Like her? The contract was made for reasons that excluded emotions, yet here she was, liking him. It was abnormal. She felt like she was back in high school again, crushing on some football varsity player she couldn’t get the courage to talk to.
She realized she was veering away from her vacation thoughts. Justin wasn’t a part of her vacation, he just graciously paid for it. I’m only here for six days. I’m only here for six days, she told herself again and again.
Tomorrow, she planned to see the changing of guards at Buckingham. She wished she could have a side-trip to Scotland, but even six days suddenly felt like it wasn’t enough for London alone. It had started to rain and she realized she didn’t bring along an umbrella.
She stayed under the marquee of some tea shop as she headed back for Rosewood. The temperature dropped quickly, but Mikaela felt lucky she had packed along a waterproof windbreaker. It wouldn’t help much with the cold, but at least it would keep most of her clothing dry. As soon as the rain died down, she briskly walked back to the hotel.
By the time she had gotten back, her teeth were chattering from her soaked jeans. She didn’t want to step inside the hotel looking like an orphaned waif, but the warmth won over her.
“Madam, are you all right?” someone from concierge asked her.
“I wore the wrong clothes,” she laughed while her lips turned pale.
She realized her phone was ringing. The moment she held it, the call ended. There were four missed calls from Justin. Oh no, she thought. She shoved her phone into her backpack and quickly headed for her room. She stripped out of her wet clothes and wrapped herself up in a bathrobe. Just as she was about to press Justin’s name for a return call, he called again.
“Where the bloody hell are you?” his irritated voice greeted her.
“I’m back at the hotel. I had to wait for the rain to stop,” she stammered. She felt like a little child, caught in some petty crime. Why was she feeling like this? He was not the boss of her!
“I had wanted to have you picked up, wherever you were.”
He was going to ask some of his people to pick her up? Why not do it himself? She suddenly wanted to feel important in his life.
“I was just walking around.”
“And you must be bloody soaked,” he said.
“A little,” she told him.
“Great, because I’m right outside of your door.”
“What?” she gasped.
He knocked and she peered through the eyehole to find him right outside, dressed in a suit. She gingerly opened the door. He strode in calmly.
“A little?” he smirked. “It looks like the whole of England rained on you.”
“So I lied.”
“I don’t like it when you lie to me.”
“It wasn’t your concern.”
“How can I demand things from you if you’re unwell?” he snapped.
She was taken aback. “I’m on vacation. I was walking around. It so happens that it rains. I’ve got my windbreaker, I’ve got boots, so I’m not soaked like the whole of England rained on me.”
“You sound defensive,” he remarked.
“What’s the point of this?” she retorted. “You allow me to go here, to have my first real vacation in years, and outside of the country too, and then you make me feel bad.”
“To remind you that the contract stays active wherever you are. Now, get out of that bathrobe. I only have an hour to be here.”
She stayed rooted in place, and she found herself stripping out of her warm, fuzzy, cotton bathrobe just seconds after he had demanded it.
***
She watched him as he put on his boxers first, then his pants and his unbuttoned shirt. “Where are you off to later?” he asked apathetically.
“I don’t have any idea yet,” she admitted, bringing the bed sheets closer to her body. Her nipples were still erect from the cold and the mind-blowing sex she had just had with him. There were so many firsts for this day alone.
It was the first time she enjoyed a British-style breakfast. Her first meal near the river Thames. It was the first time she had had sex in a five-star hotel. The first time she had sex on international soil. She eyed his rigid stomach and wondered why she dreaded the contract sometimes. He was dreamy, he was everything she didn’t know she wanted until the day she met him.
What did she want from him anyway? His money? It definitely helped her. What else was there? His sparkling personality? His good looks were more than a plus. He looked good in suits. She always saw him in a suit and those expensive shoes, oxfords, brogues, and the like. Was that what made women fawn over him? Was it the sex? True, she liked, no, loved the sex. But she could live without it. She wondered if he could. Maybe he was a sex addict or something. She should have had some psychological test done for him before she signed the contract.
Well, too late for that now. What she saw was that he was a psychopath. Being a CEO, he had the makings of being one. He was calculating and intelligent, superficially charming, he read through people easily, and he enjoyed manipulating her. She didn’t know about other people, but it felt like he enjoyed doing that to her. She knew about it, yet she allowed it. Was this some sort of battered person’s syndrome now? Mikaela felt she had all the symptoms…
She wasn’t born stupid; she wasn’t born to take orders from anyone. She told herself she’d turn things around for herself the best she could. This was no exception. Justin Henderson was just another test of sorts.
“Won’t you stay?” she suddenly said with a bright smile.
He stopped buttoning his shirt and looked at her face for a moment, intently. Then he finished buttoning up
his shirt, without giving her another glance until she interrupted him, asking him the same thing.
“I only have an hour, and it’s running up. Kinda busy today,” he told her.
“You had an hour to drive all the way here for some afternoon delight?”
He smiled. “You could call it that.”
She tried to hide her disappointment.
“Hope you brought a gown. If you haven’t, you’d better. There’s a good show at the Opera House tomorrow,” he told her.
“Maybe I’ll buy one,” she said acidly.
“Yeah, you should. I’ll see you in a few,” he said, picking up the suit he hung from the chair.
See you in a few what? Hours? Days? She technically had four more days to go in London. She watched him as he fixed his shoelaces, not even bothering to make small talk with her. Yeah, because small talk was to mask the awkwardness right? Because there was no awkwardness here, right? It was just a contract being fulfilled. Yes, that stupid contract. She began to hate it immensely. Add to the fact that they both carried copies of the contract, for it was mandatory that they wouldn’t forget about it.
She felt dirty again. She felt used again. No matter how much she told herself to enjoy the moment, to enjoy what he offered her, she just hated it when he did that. She hated it when he ignored her, just had plain good sex with her then tossed her away like she didn’t matter at all.
He walked out without another word. He was an asshole. The biggest asshole she had ever met in her life. She seethed; she had never been this angry at anyone. She was getting her revenge, no matter how tiny it was. She dialed for the spa.
***
The opera was lovely, she almost cried. She felt glitzy and cultured, even as she watched alone. The moment she stepped back into the hotel from her service limousine, she felt stares all over her while in the lobby.
“Miss Johnson, good evening,” one bellboy greeted her.
She smiled at him, that dazzling smile that many wanted to look at for quite a while. She had nearly forgotten the power of her smile. She should have used it more often on Justin. She heard a few gentlemen ask about her.
I can hear you, you know, she thought, and I’m no model, but I feel like I’m one now.
It was probably her dress, a number she had bought off the rack, at Harrods. It was her most expensive purchase in London yet, that along with the shoes and clutch bag she probably wouldn’t use until another formal event years from now. The dress was a lovely cobalt blue number, the same color she wore the night Justin approached her, among all the women he could have approached.
She felt extra confident tonight. To fully utilize her glamorous looks, she decided to have a nightcap at the bar. If this confidence tonight could work on other men, surely it would work on Justin. Time to put the theory to a test.
As she walked into the bar, she noticed it was full of men, only two other women were there. She took a seat on a plush chair, three empty chairs surrounded her. She ordered a glass of champagne and enjoyed the tingling sensation going about in her mouth. This was good champagne, for someone who didn’t drink alcoholic drinks much.
In less than five minutes, two men walked up to her, introducing themselves as Swedish businessmen, asking if they could take a seat with her. She nodded. It was working. She hadn’t expected it to work so soon. She decided to revel in the moment. This had only happened when she was all dolled up. She was more than dolled up. She felt glamourous, she felt like she was on top of the world.
Was this how Justin felt when he was surrounded by a lot of women? It was good to the ego, to be acknowledged by people, to be admired for being physically beautiful. She would play the part well, and she planned to enjoy it immensely while it lasted.
Chapter10
Justin was irritable. She hadn’t answered in over an hour. He was sure she had been brought back to the hotel. He had hired a car for that at her beck and call. She couldn’t have fallen asleep an hour after the show, right? He had begun to frown but told himself not to, as he was walking into Rosewood’s lobby. The lobby was devoid of guests as it was nearly ten in the evening.
“Mr. Henderson, good evening,” a bellboy greeted him. Justin Henderson was a bit well-known in the hotel, he held a few meetings here once in a while and was an excellent tipper.
“Hullo,” he replied distractedly. He looked around. “Has Ms. Johnson arrived yet from the opera?”
He nodded. “Yes sir. A little over forty minutes ago.”
He proceeded for the elevators but he saw that the bellboy wasn’t finished talking yet. “Well?”
“I believe she’s waiting for you at the bar, sir,” the bellboy added.
The bar? But she didn’t drink… He nodded and said a curt thank you and walked for the bar. What would she be doing there? Its interiors screamed it was a gentleman’s bar, but then again, she was American and didn’t know about places like these. He passed by two concierge talking to themselves in hushed tones as they pushed a trolley.
“She’s a real pretty one, ain’t she?” one man whispered.
“Prettiest by far to walk here in weeks,” the other nodded in agreement. “I’m guessing it’s her smile.”
Her smile. That could mean only one person. Unless another guest had that dazzling smile at Rosewood. Being in a bar meant that she was either drinking alone, or had been invited to drink. Mikaela was quite gullible to some extent, and this thought annoyed him.
He stopped at the door seeing Mikaela at the end of the room, standing by the bar, surrounded by four, no, five men, businessmen by the looks of it. His temper flared, although he did his best to control it. She was having a grand time by the looks of it, laughing at the morons’ adlibs and antics. They were all vying for her attention, circling on her like vultures set on eating prey. He was here to prove he was alpha male, he was the ultimate hunter.
He strode to their direction, detesting the tinkling sound of her laughter. Were they even that funny that she should laugh at every little thing they said?
“Sweetheart,” he said in a voice louder than usual.
The group looked to his direction in unison. Justin sized everyone up in an instant. They all wore department store brand suits by the looks of it, and they all had polished shoes, and distinct Scandinavian accents. Juniors at some big corporation.
Mikaela was looking at him like she had seen a ghost. For a split second there, he thought she didn’t see him. Was she drunk? Drunk on attention, more likely. The men surrounding her were all smiles, obviously charmed by her. She wasn’t even that charming, right?
She was at a loss for words at first. She hadn’t seen him so controlled but she knew he was pissed. “Hi,” she said lamely. “I thought you were busy today.”
“Change of plans. Am I glad you have company,” he said this with poison in his eyes and in his tone of voice. “Who are these gentlemen?” he asked, walking closer to her.
Without saying anything else, the men moved aside to let him through, with just enough space for him to squeeze in.
Mikaela forced herself to act like everything was all right. “Oh, hey. Well, this is Klaus, Erik, Aksel, Frederik, and another Klaus,” she said with a nervous laugh.
“Pleasure to meet you, gentlemen,” he said with a nod. One man extended his hand to shake it. He decided to introduce himself. “I’m Justin, Justin Henderson.”
Their eyes widened.
“Henderson Steel?” Frederik said.
“You’re Justin Henderson? Sir, it’s an honor,” another greeted, shaking his hand.
“Did we meet before?” Justin asked good-naturedly.
“Never had the honor, Sir. We’re with Vanguard Insulation,” Erik explained.
“Ah, so our companies have done a bit of business together.” Justin smiled. “Well, gentlemen, order anything you want, tab is on me. We just need to get some shut-eye now, it’s been a long day.”
They thanked him profusely and said a polite farewell to Mr. Henders
on’s girlfriend, unable to believe their luck, meeting a really hot woman who turned out to be Justin Henderson’s girlfriend, the number one steel manufacturer in the world. They idolized him to some extent; Justin found it obvious.
He walked arm-in-arm with Mikaela all the way to her bedroom. Once they were in, he let go of her quickly, albeit harshly.
“What the hell was that?” she snapped, flinging off her heels to a corner, her gown wafting a little as she did.
He walked up to her, towering over her once more. “That wasn’t a very smart thing to do.”
“I only had one drink. One drink. God, you can see it on the tab if it bothers you so much.”
“Your drink didn’t bother me. Your company did.”
“I had a fun night, you know.”
“Surrounded by those men?”
“Those gentlemen were very nice,” she snapped at him, “and I was having a grand time. Far grander than being with you. You’ve always got a stick up your godforsaken ass.”
He sucked in a breath, unable to believe she had said that. “And who are you to talk to me that way?”
“I’m under your contract, but it doesn’t mean I could keep silent about your stupid manners.”
“I was very pleasant as far as you can see.”
“You think you own me. You think you’re the king of everything,” she continued. “You pulled me out of there when the contract said nothing about talking to other guys.”
“They were flirting with you, you idiot,” he muttered. He realized she was doing this to make him jealous. The poor girl, she probably thought it would work. It only served to annoy him greatly. She had such sad tactics.
“So what if they were? It wasn’t as if I was going to sleep with them. You have the rights to sleep with me!” she cried out. “I’ve only met you for two weeks and you think you own me. Well, newsflash, you shit don’t.”
“While the contract is in effect, you’re mine. Completely. And we had an agreement about cursing.”
She shook her head, determined not to cry. How many times had this happened in the mere weeks she had known him? She looked at him, her vision clouding over. “You really are an asshole, aren’t you?” she snapped, unable to control her words.
