by Latham, D
"Are you sure that's wise?"
"I can handle him, but if you hear screaming tomorrow night, come and rescue me."
"I won't be around. You're not the only one who had an eventful day. I'm off to the states in the morning. Apple called, they want to collaborate with the major banks in the development of mobile banking apps. Guess who they want to work on it?"
I squealed, "that's amazing news, congratulations. How long are you gonna be out there?"
"Only about a week this time. Silicon Valley and New York. It's a hard life eh?" James pulled a bottle of champagne out of his capacious fridge, and opened it with a flourish. He poured two glasses full, and raised his in a toast, "to a successful week."
"Cheers," I said, clinking his glass with mine, "and may next week be even better."
James left early the next morning to catch his flight. It was the first time I had actually been alone in the flat since moving in. I nosed around the spare bedroom, and peeked into James office. It was a stark room, with just a desk and a few bookshelves. I wondered how he spent so many hours every day in such a featureless room. I left the office and closed the door, deciding not to poke around or pry. James' bedroom was larger than mine, and had the same large windows and river view. There were no pictures, paintings, or other clues to the man who slept here. The room was tidy to the point of bare, giving it a sterile look that was at odds with James dishevelled appearance. My curiosity satisfied, I went back to the kitchen to make a latte, and plan what I was wearing that evening.
I looked around the arcade after my workout. I wanted something new to wear, so checked out the boutiques until I came across a pretty, and sophisticated wrap dress. I tried it on, and decided it was just the right mix of demure and sexy. It was important to me to look good that evening to cover up the insecurity I felt around people like Oscar. I also bought new lingerie and stockings, just in case.
Back home, I took my time getting ready, paying particular attention to my hair and makeup. By half seven, I was a bundle of nerves. I nearly jumped out of my skin when there was a knock at the door.
Oscar looked delicious. He was wearing a suit, bespoke by the look of it, with a deep blue shirt, and a deep blue tie. He smiled as I invited him in while I grabbed my coat and bag.
"You look lovely," he said, kissing my cheek. His close proximity was heady.
"Thank you, so do you. Where are we going tonight?"
"I didn't know what you'd like, so I chose The Ivy. Hope that's ok," he replied. Good choice Oscar, I thought.
"Great choice," I said, flashing my best, most dazzling smile. We travelled down to the ground floor in silence. A cab was waiting outside to drive us to the West End.
The Ivy was packed, and I wondered how he'd managed to get a table at such short notice. We perused the menu, and he said he liked the Devonshire chicken, which was for two people, if I wanted to share. When the waiter arrived, he ordered for both of us, and chose a bottle of Sancerre. Once he'd ordered, and the waiter disappeared, he stared at me, which was a touch disconcerting.
"So tell me about yourself Elle."
"You already know where I live and where I work. You know I like the gym, and there's not much more to tell. What about you? Where did you study?"
"Oxford. I went straight into the family firm afterwards to learn the ropes. Took over as chairman three years ago when my Father died."
"How old are you?"
"Thirty two. How old are you?"
"Twenty four. I did three years at Cambridge, a year legal practitioner, then straight into the law firm I'm with now. Did my traineeship, and got promoted." I left out the bit about coming from south London. Somehow, I felt I shouldn't share that with him. "That must have been hard, taking over a bank at twenty nine, plus dealing with losing your Dad." His scowl was back on his face, and I wondered if I'd said the wrong thing.
He shrugged, "it's what I was groomed for since birth, so it was just part of what was planned for me. Things are done.....differently in families like mine."
"Oh?" I raised my eyebrows, prompting him to go on.
"Well, you know, legacy and all that." What was he on about?
"So what else is expected of you?" I needed to find out more.
"Don't be coy, Elle. Your family probably expect the same from you." I gave him a quizzical look over my smoked salmon. "They expect me to marry and have children to carry on the family name, and the bank." He looked exasperated at having to spell it out.
"And what do you want?" I asked him. He sat chewing thoughtfully for a moment.
"I want my mother to shut up about it, and leave me alone." I laughed, which made him smile. He seemed to relax a bit, and we started chatting about our university days.
When he relaxed and dropped the scowl, he was really sexy. I began to speculate about what he'd be like in bed. Would he be buttoned up and conventional, or an uninhibited tiger? My belly squeezed just thinking about it. "What did you think of Ivan?" He asked, breaking my erotic thoughts.
"Charismatic, handsome. Sly bugger though. Apparently all the girls in the office fancy him."
"And do you?"
"I have my hands full here," I flirted, which made him smile again.
"Charmer. Seriously, do you fancy him?"
"No. I can appreciate that he's handsome, but it's never good when you know they can't be trusted. I watched him in action, remember. Anyway, I heard he only likes supermodels, so that rules me out."
"Oh I don't know, you're the prettiest lawyer I've ever met. I know he was desperate to find out more about you."
"And you called me a charmer. He can find out what he likes, it doesn't change the fact that he was trying to scam our client." I wanted to close down the conversation. Knowing he was a friend of Ivan's, I didn't want to give any indication that I was in any way enamoured. I changed the subject, "so how come you're still single? There must be loads of socialites and models desperate to hang off your arm?"
"They bore me. When there's not much going on upstairs, the downstairs loses its allure pretty fast," he said, his face impassive, "and how come you're still single?"
"I work too hard, long hours don't always go down well with boyfriends." It wasn't entirely the truth, as I had deliberately kept the south London lads at arms length, not wanting two babies by age eighteen, and my feet nailed to the floor. Again, I couldn't share that one.
"Unless you're with someone ambitious, they don't get it do they?" Oscar had hit the nail on the head. The boys I had grown up with aspired to be gas fitters and postmen, and do as little work as they could get away with, preferring to spend their time in the pub instead. I looked over at Oscar, chairman of a bank, the right age, and extraordinarily handsome, and decided I needed to play my A game.
"No they don't. I figured that any man who didn't appreciate my career and work ethic wouldn't be right for me, so it was better to stay single than settle for second best."
We spent the rest of the meal talking about our jobs, current affairs and other easy subjects. Oscar paid the bill, and we headed outside where another taxi was waiting for us. Back at the flats, he travelled up in the lift with me to the top floor.
"Would you like a coffee?" I offered, having made the decision that only coffee would be the agenda that night. He came in and sat at the kitchen island while I made us both lattes.
"This flat really is lovely, I wish I'd bought it," he said, looking around.
"Isn't yours the same?"
"Similar, this one has a different layout though, mine isn't as open plan. It had to have more walls with another flat built over it. I usually only stay there during the week, so it's not a big deal."
"Where do you live at the weekend then?"
"I have a place in Sussex. I usually go Friday night and come back Monday morning, but last weekend I had a social engagement, and this weekend, a date with you."
We finished our coffees, and I yawned, "I'm gonna have to send you home, I've had a lovely evening, and
thank you for dinner." We both stood up, and I walked round the island to see him out. He slid his arms around my waist, crushing me to his chest. Briefly he gazed at my face, as if he was trying to work me out, before he leaned down to kiss me gently, his lips grazing mine before becoming more urgent. His tongue ran across my lower lip before it met mine, in lush, soft licks. He smelled fabulous up close, and as his hands roamed over my back, everything south of my waist tightened viciously. Not shagging him was going to take every bit of resolve I possessed. After a minute, I pulled away. He smiled a lovely crooked smile.
"Are you sure you want me to go?"
"Yes, I need some sleep." I caught a look of annoyance flash over his face, but it was fleeting.
"As you wish, can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow morning?"
"Ok. What time?"
"Nine?" I nodded in reply, before opening the front door for him. He gave me another quick kiss on the lips before disappearing into the lift. I closed the door and leaned against it to cool my heated back. I was in big trouble where Oscar Golding was concerned.
I headed off to bed, wondering if he would be playing the maudlin music again. I lay in the dark straining my ears, but couldn't hear a sound. The thought of him laying just one floor below me, possibly naked, had me reaching for my battery-operated-boyfriend to help me get to sleep.
I woke up early the next day. It didn't seem to matter what time I went to bed, I always woke at the same time. I decided to go to the gym to kill some time before my breakfast date. By eight I was back home, showered, and my hair done. I decided to wear black jeans that flattered my bum, and a thin, loose, blue jumper, which hung slightly off one shoulder and draped nicely over my bust. At nine precisely, there was a knock at the front door. I opened it to find Oscar leaning lazily against the door jamb wearing Levi's and a grey t shirt. He looked just as gorgeous in casual clothes as he did in a suit.
He kissed me on the cheek, and waited while I grabbed my handbag and keys. As soon as we were out of the lift, he grabbed my hand, and we walked round to the arcade in the sunshine. He led me to a little cafe where we ordered full English each, and lattes. He looked younger in jeans, and almost carefree compared to the snarling, uptight, unhappy person I had pegged him as at first. I settled back into my chair and relaxed. Our food arrived, looking tempting, and my stomach grumbled in anticipation. We tucked in.
"Sleep well?" Oscar said, breaking the companionable silence.
"Great thanks. You?" I replied, more to be polite than anything.
"I would have slept better if I hadn't spent the evening being teased. Why did you send me home Elle?" What? Did he seriously expect me to shag him on the first date?
"I beg your pardon? It was the first time we spent an evening together. What did you expect me to do?"
"Is that your only issue? That it was our first date?"
I blushed a bit, "Oscar, that's a bit direct. Yes, I don't have sex on the first date." He looked thoughtful as he ate a piece of egg and bacon.
"So does this count as a second date? I won't beat about the bush Elle, I need to fuck you, so just tell me what you want me to do, and we can cut the crap."
Those crude words coming out of Oscars sculptured mouth in his cut crystal accent, shocked me. My forkful of sausage hovered in the air while I considered my response.
"I'm guessing the 'I need to fuck you' approach has a high success rate for you," I said, trying not to look horribly offended.
"Well, we are both adults," he said, his impassive mask back on. I put down my knife and fork, and leaned forward.
"I am deciding whether or not I want to fuck you, not when I want to fuck you," I replied, "you'd do well to remember that." Yay! Go me!
"If you think that keeping me waiting is going to make me chase you, then I can tell you now, you're wrong. I don't subscribe to the bourgeois point of view of making a man wait. If you don't fancy me, then I'd rather you say now than spend time pointlessly hanging around."
I stared at him, shocked at his bluntness. His eyes were cold and steely, and his face impassive. The thought struck me that he was behaving like a spoilt child who had never heard the word no. His attempt to manipulate me into shagging him to stop him walking away was juvenile and misguided. There was no way I'd be railroaded into bed for fear of losing someone. I popped the last bit of toast in my mouth and quickly swallowed. As sad as I was not to witness Oscar naked, there was no way I was prepared to shag him in the hope of stopping him walking away. I pulled a twenty out of my purse and slapped it down on the table.
"I don't expect you to hang around. Consider my mind made up," I hissed, before I stomped off. His face was a mixture of astonishment and anger, but he didn't come after me.
Rather than head back to the flat where I might bump into him, I headed over to the West End, to walk through Hyde park, and gather my thoughts, or rather, sulk. I found a bench in a quiet corner of the park and sat down. It was a glorious spring day, and the tulips swayed gently in the warm breeze. I took a few deep, cleansing breaths. They didn't work, and a large tear rolled down my cheek. I swiped it away angrily, cross with myself for getting upset. Oscar was way out of my league, and I had known that from the start. It had been the reason I had been guarded about letting him have my body, as I had known he would never have been able to love someone like me. You're being suburban, Elle, men like Oscar don't love, they make alliances, and wanting to be loved pegs you as the working class girl you want to escape. Woman up.
As I let the self pity wash over me, my phone chirped. Pulling it out my bag, I saw immediately it was a text from James.
*hey little Elle, how was the date? Hope your ok. All good here*
I smiled as I tapped out my reply;
*hey big James, got dumped already, am ok, glad it's goin well out there. Miss you.*
My phone rang about a minute later.
"What do you mean you got dumped?" James said without preamble.
"I didn't shag him, so he said I was bourgeois and said he'd walk away if I didn't, so I left. I thought he was too good to be true," I sniffed.
"Elle are you crying? A tosser like that should most definitely not make you cry. Sounds like you had a lucky escape to me. Everyone knows a lady doesn't shag on the first date."
"That's what I thought, anyway, how are the yanks treating you?"
"Great. They want to buy my app. I have clear direction on how Apple want it constructed, and I'm meeting a couple of banks in New York in the next few days to get their input. Oh, and they put me up in the most amazing hotel."
"Email me some pictures please? I need cheering up."
"Will do, and Elle? You are too good for an idiot man who doesn't realise he can't click his fingers and make demands. You're better than that, don't forget it."
I smiled as we said our goodbyes. James had only been gone a day, and I missed him already. By the time I had walked back to Hyde Park corner, I was in a much better mood. I decided to forget Oscar Golding, and carry on being New Elle, who had a great job, and fabulous life. I wasn't going to be beaten that easily.
I headed home around five, picking up some groceries on the way. There was no sign of Oscar in the lobby, and I was grateful to reach my front door without incident. As I closed the door behind me, I noticed an envelope on the floor. It was expensive cream vellum, and just had my name handwritten on the front. Knowing who it was from, I placed it on the kitchen island as I made my coffee, and put the groceries away. I sat and turned it over in my hands before garnering the courage to open it.
Dear Elle,
I'm so sorry about the way I behaved today. I was crass and demanding, and I don't blame you for walking away. I hope you can forgive me, and give me the opportunity to treat you like the lady you undoubtedly are.
Regards
Oscar
I read the note several times. After his assertion that he wouldn't chase, it most definitely felt like round one to me. I smiled, and threw the note down onto the isl
and. The best thing to do now was nothing. I would ignore the note, and ignore Oscar.
I ran a deep, luxurious bath, adding a few drops of a free sample of bath oil. I sank in, and lay back, feeling the tension in my body relax
Chapter 4
Re-writing the contract was the priority first thing Monday morning. Lewis asked me to assist him, and together we sat going through line by line. The clients and Ivan were meeting again at two, so we worked like demons to get it done and ready. At twelve, we were interrupted by Priti.
"Elle, Oscar Goldings at the front desk. Are you breaking for lunch, or should I tell him you're busy?"
"Can you tell him I'm busy please. Doubt if we'll get time for lunch today."
"Will do," she said as she headed back out. I put it out of my mind, and concentrated on my work.
Our clients arrived at quarter to two, and sat in the conference room as Lewis explained the revised contract. By five to, they were briefed and happy, and waiting in anticipation for Ivan. He arrived bang on time, and yet again my brain fried slightly at the sight of him. He stared at me pointedly, before taking his seat at the large table. Lewis presented him with a copy of the revised contract, which he read quickly. We had already emailed a copy to his legal team about an hour previously, so I presumed he was in agreement with the revised figures.
This time, he spoke very little, and his lawyer did the talking. With both sides in agreement, they all signed, shook hands, and the deal was done. There was a bit of relief in the air as all the men began to file out of the conference room. I was packing up my papers as a loud, Russian voice boomed out.
"Miss Reynolds, I would like to speak to you alone please." My head whipped up to see Ivan fixing me with his intense stare.
"Sure," I said, "here ok?" He nodded, and waited for the rest of the men to leave, Lewis giving me a raised eyebrow as he left. Ivan walked over to the door and closed it, before turning to face me.
"You are very impressive for such a young woman," he said. Sexist bastard.
