Romancing The Billionaire: The Complete Story

by Olivia Wilson

  ‘I do apologise on behalf of my friend,’ I say moving around him to offer her assistance.

  ‘Relax old chap, I’m sure she’s used to it, aren’t you?’ He says.

  ‘It's fine,’ she says ignoring him and directing her reply towards me and as she looks up I recognise her as the woman who took a tumble outside the coffee shop. I hoped I would see her again.

  ‘Excuse me; but haven’t we met before? At the coffee shop, I believe. Amy Smith, isn’t it?’ I say.

  ‘Yes, I believe so. Champagne?’ She asks pushing her tray towards me.

  ‘No thank you,’ I reply.

  ‘I don’t mind if I do,’ Ashby says reaching for a glass.

  ‘Ashby, don’t you think you’ve had enough?’ I say to him.

  ‘Not at all,’ he scoffs.

  ‘So, do you work here now Amy?’ I turn my attention back to her.

  ‘This is my evening job, yes.’

  ‘I see, so you have two jobs do you?’

  ‘I do. But if I stand here talking to you for much longer, I might find myself down to just one.’ She glances across the room to where her supervisor is giving her the eye and as she walks away, I admire how graceful she looks navigating the room.

  ‘You’re not considering getting involved with the help now are you, old friend?’ Ashby smirks over his glass.

  ‘You can be a frightful bore sometimes Ashby, do you know that,’ I snap at him.

  ‘Steady on old chap, I was just messing around.’

  ‘Forget it,’ I say walking away, all of time keeping my gaze on Amy.

  My eyes continue to follow her as she effortless glides around the room with her tray. Someone takes the last glass, and she makes her way over the bar placing the tray on top of the counter for the bartender to take. She reaches up and readjusts the clip in the back of her hair, and as she does so I notice a few ash-brown wisps straggle her nape. She sweeps a lock in behind her ear and looks at her supervisor, who responds by pointing at the clock. Rarely, if ever, have I found myself captivated by a woman in such a way. I feel myself wanting to be closer to her, to know more about her.

  ‘Crawford darling.’ Evangeline Neville catches hold of my arm.

  ‘Evangeline, I hope you’re enjoying the evening,’ I say trying to keep my eyes on Amy.

  ‘I haven't seen you in ages,’ she says leaning into me.

  ‘I’m sure we spoke over dinner earlier Evangeline.’ I see Amy leaving the room.

  ‘Crawford you're so funny. You always have been.’ She hunches her shoulders up and pushes her cleavage against me. ‘What do you say we have ourselves a little after party at my place?’ she says her lips pressed close to my ear.

  ‘Thank you, Evangeline, but I have an early start tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your evening though won’t you?’ I say pulling away from her and following Amy’s steps to the door.

  ‘Suit yourself Crawford. It’s your loss,’ Evangeline calls out after me.

  Passing through the door I look around the lobby but I can’t see her. Glancing towards the exit, I see her leaning against a wall outside. Taking my chances, I make my way out there.

  ‘Hello again,’ I say approaching the wall.

  ‘Hello,’ she replies.

  ‘Is this you finished for the evening?’ I ask.

  ‘Nope, I'm having a break.’

  ‘So what are you doing out here then?’

  ‘You mean, besides taking a break?’

  ‘Yes besides that.’

  ‘Not a lot. Looking at the moon and enjoying some peace and quiet.’ She stares up at the sky. ‘Anyway, I better get back to work.’ She stands upright to leave, and as she does so, I hear the music inside change to a slow melody.

  As she passes by me, I smell the aroma of coconut rising from her hair. ‘Wait,’ I say taking hold of her hand. ‘Would you be so kind as to let me have this dance?’

  ‘Dance?’ She sounds surprised but keeps her hand in mine.

  ‘Yes, dance,’ I step closer and take hold of her other hand. Her cool blue eyes soften as her cheeks flush a pale shade of pink against her milky-white skin. ‘We’ll just be a minute,’ I say.

  ‘But I can’t dance, at least not how I think you mean,’ she replies still looking at me.

  ‘Sure you can, it’s easy, look!’ Letting go of her hand, I slip my arm around the curve in her waist.

  Moving her closer to me, I cradle one of her hands in mine as the other rests on my shoulder. I take slow steps at first, and as she faces my chest, she moves in time with me. It might be the music, or the smell of vanilla from her body mixing with the scent of coconut in her hair. It could even be the light of the moon shining down from behind the rooftop above us, illuminating us in our own perfect spotlight. But here and now, in this moment, I feel everything change.

  ‘See that’s not too difficult is it?’ I whisper into her ear.

  She looks up at me, and as our eyes meet, everything else disappears. I close my eyes and move my face closer to hers.

  ‘You strike me as someone who gets almost everything he wants in life,’ she says, placing her index finger over my lips before they touch hers.

  ‘I am, but I’m prepared to work hard for it.’

  ‘Hmmnn, we’ll see,’ she says slipping out of my embrace and her hand leaving mine.

  ‘Will I see you again?’ I call after her as she floats away.

  ‘I don’t know, I’m not a fortune-teller,’ she calls back over her shoulder.

  ‘Can I see you again?’

  ‘I doubt I'm your type.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that. Say yes!’ I call out as she disappears inside and I’m left standing alone in the moonlight.

  Chapter 8

  Her

  ‘I’ll have a latte,’ the old woman frowns at the menu. ‘No sorry I'll have a cappuccino,’ she changes her mind as I’m about to write her order down.

  I wait while she continues to inspect the list of beverages on offer.

  ‘Make that a hot chocolate, do you do hot chocolate?’ She asks.

  ‘We do Madam.’

  ‘Do you make it with water or milk?’ She's eager to hear my answer.

  ‘We can make it how you'd like. How would you like us to make it?’

  ‘Oh there’s just way to make a hot chocolate, real hot chocolate's made with milk, not water. No, not water, that'll never do,’ straightening her back she turns her back towards the drinks list.

  ‘Milk it is then Madam. So that's what you'd like, one hot chocolate?’ The lead of my pencil pushes against the paper waiting for her confirmation. ‘Will there be anything else with that Madame, something to eat perhaps?’

  ‘No that's all, just the espresso.’

  ‘Espresso?’ The tip of my pencil stands down again.

  ‘Yes my drinks order, one espresso, black, no sugar please.’

  ‘OK, so that’s one espresso and no hot chocolate then.’

  ‘Hot chocolate?’

  ‘Yes madam. You do want the espresso instead of the hot chocolate, and not as well as don’t you?’

  ‘Oh I don’t want an espresso, no, that’s too strong for me. If I have one of those I’ll be all jittery.’

  ‘So no espresso then?’

  ‘No, no espresso.’

  ‘Just the hot chocolate?’

  ‘Now that I think of it, do you do milk?’

  ‘Yes we do madam,’ I smile to myself. ‘Would you like milk instead?’

  ‘Oh yes please if I could.’

  ‘Of course, milk it is then,’ spinning on my heel, I move before she has a chance to change her mind again.

  ‘Mrs Jones having the usual today then is she?’ Laura asks as I step behind the counter.

  ‘Yep glass of milk as always.’

  ‘How many times did she change her mind today?’

  ‘Only three before getting to milk bless her,’ both Laura and I smile as we look over at Mrs Jones, as she continues to examine the drinks menu.


  ‘She's a dear isn't she,’ Laura leans down onto the counter.

  ‘She definitely brightens up my Tuesday mornings,’ I bend to get a towel from under the bar.

  The bell on the shop door dings, as it swings open.

  ‘Oh wow, Amy, have a look at this!’ Laura gasps and I poke my head up to see what it is.

  A delivery woman's attempting to push her way through whilst swamped by a huge bouquet in her arms. Noticing her struggle, a kind man from the nearest table jumps up to offer help.

  ‘Thanks,’ she mouths and breathes a sigh of relief as he holds the door open for her.

  ‘My, somebody’s a lucky lady,’ Laura beams, mesmerised by the flowers as the woman makes her way towards the counter.

  ‘Yes they are,’ she pants as she heaves the arrangement up onto the counter-top.

  I can understand Laura’s fascination; they do have to be the largest bunch of flowers I think either of us has ever seen. There are tens of bright red roses, with bunches of bright white baby’s breath scattered between. Their stems sit in a round bag of water and they're all wrapped up in a big, pink ribbon, tied into a bow at the front.

  ‘So, let’s see who that somebody is then,’ catching her breath, the florist unclips a notepad book from her belt. ‘Oh drat,’ she squints, then pulls a small pair of glasses out of her shirt pocket. Flicking them open, she pushes them onto her nose and begins to thumbs through the pages. ‘OK, here it is,’ she says. ‘Amy Smith, do you have an Amy Smith here?’

  ‘Amy Smith?’ Like a Meerkat Laura, who'd had her eyes closed and nose pressed against a petal, rips her head back from the bouquet. Her eyes open wide as she stares at the woman in disbelief. ‘Amy?’ She looks to me for an explanation but I’m just as shocked as she is.

  ‘I’m sorry but you must have that wrong,’ I say dumbfounded.

  ‘‘That’s what it says here. Amy Smith, look, it’s clear as day,’ she pushes her pad under my nose.

  ‘Well I’m Amy Smith, but I'm not expecting any flowers,’ I feel on the spot as my manager Gloria, and some of the staff have begun to gather.

  ‘What a coincidence. I'm always expecting flowers but I never get them. By that reasoning they must be yours,’ Gloria’s eyes narrows as she looks at the flowers.

  ‘They are beautiful Amy, what are you waiting for?’ Walking behind me, Laura puts her hand onto my back and gives me a little push.

  ‘Well I suppose…’ I’m cautious in case it's a mistake, or some sort of silly joke. I can’t imagine who’d want to send me flowers, and I don’t know anybody with this sort of money, they must have cost a small fortune.

  ‘There’s no suppose about it doll. They're definitely yours, there’s a little card in here with your name on it,’ Gloria nods into the bouquet.

  ‘A card?’ My curiosity piqued, I stand beside her.

  ‘Yeah look,’ she points towards a crisp, little, white envelope sitting in the centre of the roses. My name is handwritten across the front in black ink.

  ‘Are you Amy?’ The delivery woman sighs. Making me jump as I’m reaching in about to pick the envelope out.

  ‘It's rather bizarre, but I am. Are you sure you have the right address, and they're not for a different Amy Smith somewhere else? It’s not an unusual name you know.’

  ‘Lady, I don’t have all day to be standing here. Please, just sign the delivery note so I can go and get my other deliveries done,’ she says and pushes her book into my hand.

  ‘Yes of course, sorry,’ I look at the note, and see all the information there. My name, along with the address of the shop underneath. ‘Here you go,’ I say and hand it back to her signed.

  ‘Thank you. Now I’ve done my job, you can do what you like with them,’ clipping her notepad back onto her belt she pushes her glasses up on to her head. ‘Enjoy your day's ladies,’ she waves walking towards the door.

  ‘So Amy, who’s the guy?’ desperate for information, Laura leans across the counter with her weight on her elbows. ‘Guy? There’s no guy. I have no idea who would send me something like this.’

  ‘Well somebody sure has,’ Richard chimes in. He too now seems interested in today’s arrival. Richard doesn’t say much, he keeps himself to himself and gets on with his work. He’s never taken much interest in chitchat.

  ‘Well there’s one way to find out,’ Laura’s brimming with excitement now, as she eyes up the little white envelope.

  ‘Right everyone, excitements over. Amy doesn't want to dish the dirt on her secret admirer, and this monster of a bouquet is getting in the way here. What say we let her take it out the back on her own?’ Gloria suggests. ‘You’re due a tea break now aren’t you Amy? You can uncover your secret admirer in private and we can all get back to work.’

  ‘Of course Gloria sorry,’ lifting the flowers from the counter, I feel how heavy they are. The delivery woman must have been stronger than she looked. Reaching the door, I look around for help, as there’s no way I’ll get through with these in my arms.

  Richard goes to help, but Laura almost knocks him sideways leaping for the handle. ‘I’ll get that for you,’ she says with enthusiasm as she holds the door ajar.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say squeezing my way through and being careful not to bend any of the stems.

  ‘On her own!’ I hear Gloria shout behind me, Laura must be trying to sneak her way though.

  ‘Of course Gloria,’ Laura replies, letting the door slam shut.

  Our tea breaks are ten minutes long. So far, I've spent seven and a half minutes of mine staring at the little, white envelope with my name written on it. With two and a half minutes left, I know it’s almost time to head back out onto the floor, so I decide to take a look. Taking a deep breath, I reach out and take a hold of the envelope. Holding it between my forefinger and thumb, I turn it over and, flicking up the tab on the back, pull put the little card inside. It’s has the same black ink and the same handwriting on it as the envelope, though this time it says two words:

  Meet me…

  Chapter 9

  Him

  Arriving outside my father’s office building, I see a red convertible outside. It’s like the one that was outside his house the other evening. Ignoring it, I walk into the reception area and raising my hand to the man on the desk as I pass. He nods in acknowledgement and I continue on to the elevator and call the lift down. Once inside, I press the button for the floor to my father’s office and the doors begin to slide shut.

  ‘Room for another?’ A voice says as a set of fingers wrap themselves around the elevator door, pulling it open again to reveal Ashby. ‘Off to your father’s for the 11am meeting?’ He grins at me before stepping inside.

  ‘No Ashby, I’m just dropping off some papers. I’m presuming you are here for a meeting then?’ I say as he stands beside me, mirroring my stance.

  ‘Yes, the old boy wants to talk about this merger. Has he mentioned it to you yet?’ Hands on his hips, he turns his head towards me raising an eyebrow.

  ‘I can’t say that he has, no,’ I stare straight ahead at the lift door.

  ‘Ah well I’m sure he’ll bring you up to speed when he needs to. Need to know and all that,’ he smirks, relaxing his shoulders and pushing his hands into his pockets.

  ‘I’m sure,’ I continue to look straight ahead, waiting for the elevator to reach our stop.

  ‘Quite a lot of estate involved from what I understand, a few buy outs perhaps. I know this of course because I’m in charge of a certain amount of it,’ his toes stretch upwards as he rocks back on his heels.

  ‘Is that right?’ I try not to sound too disinterested; he is just trying to excel after all. I just wish he would put as much enthusiasm into learning and achievement as he does talking about it.

  I waste no time getting out once the lift door pings and slides open, with Ashby trailing behind me.

  ‘Ah gentlemen, to what do I owe this pleasure?’ My father’s voice appears behind us in the hall.

  ‘Ah
Father. Sorry did we catch you on your way out?’

  ‘No not at all, I’m just returning. How can I help you both?’ He extends his arms out in our direction.

  ‘Well from what I understand, Ashby here has an important 11 o’clock meeting with you’

  ‘He does?’ My father says looking at Ashby’s eager face. ‘Oh yes I remember now, I did ask you to stop by didn’t I?’

  ‘Yes we were going to talk about my ideas for the development?’ Ashby adds.

  ‘Of course. Come on through, both of you,’ he motions us in the direction of his office. ‘Will you be joining us for this one Crawford?’

  ‘No, I’ve just come to drop off those papers you asked for.’

  ‘Why you didn’t have to come over here for that Crawford, we have a reliable courier service that could have done that for you.’

  ‘It’s fine father, I like the walk.’

  ‘You’ll stop for a drink first before you head back won’t you son? Perhaps Ashby could run some of his ideas by you, get your take?’ He places his hand on our backs as we walk towards his office door.

  ‘Mr. Montgomery sir,’ Christa appears somewhat agitated as she stands from her seat.

  ‘What is it Christa?’ My father’s eyes narrow.

  ‘I’m sorry sir, but you have a visitor waiting for you,’ her fingers tremble as she looks towards his door.

  ‘A visitor, where?’ My father replies.

  ‘In your office, she didn’t have an appointment but insisted she wait inside,’ she didn’t need to say anything else. I knew whom she was talking about; as I’m sure my father did too.

  ‘That’s fine Christa, I’ll see to it.’

  ‘I’m sorry Mr Montgomery I couldn’t stop her.’

  My father swings the large, glass doors to his office open and standing there with her back to us, against the backdrop of London office blocks outside his window is the sleek silhouette of my mother.

  ‘Marcella? I wasn’t expecting you today,’ he says when he sees her.

  ‘Maximilian,’ she turns on her bright-red stilettoed heel. Her lips stretching into a wide smile matching her shoes in colour, and in high contrast to the paleness of her skin.