Cinderella and the Surgeon

by Scarlet Wilson

  Harry leaned closer, his cheek brushing against hers. ‘What are you smiling at?’

  She looked up at him. He was so close she could see every eyelash and the pale gold flecks in those toffee eyes. She kept her voice low. ‘I’m just thinking that if you served those in a pub in Scotland you’d have your head in your hands to play with.’

  He let out a low laugh and shook his head. ‘I love your crazy expressions.’

  ‘Oh, I have lots more where those came from.’ She blinked.

  ‘And I want to hear them all,’ he whispered, moving closer.

  ‘Harry!’ The voice came from directly behind them and they jumped apart.

  He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. ‘Penelope! How nice to see you.’

  A woman with blond hair wound over one shoulder and an enviable figure slid into the chair on the other side of Harry. She was wearing a bright cerise pink dress that clung to every curve. She flung her arms around Harry and kissed him on both cheeks—just a little too close to his lips—leaving her bright red lipstick on him like some kind of marker. Esther stiffened in her seat.

  A waft of expensive perfume floated across the table towards her. Harry returned the hug, a little less enthusiastically, before sitting back in his chair and allowing Esther an even better view of a woman who could simply be described as perfection.

  ‘Penelope, I want you to meet my good friend Esther McDonald, who has accompanied me tonight.’

  Penelope didn’t seem at all perturbed. She slid her arm across Harry’s body, showing a set of immaculate pointed nails, exactly the same colour as her dress, inviting Esther to shake her hand. ‘Pleasure to meet you, Esther.’ She beamed.

  Esther gulped and shook the hand far more limply than she intended to. Wicked thoughts immediately dashed through her mind. Like how Penelope could easily whip a man’s testicles off with one swipe of her nails. She could see Penelope having a quick glance at Esther’s short blunt nails. Just the way a nurse’s should be. But Esther couldn’t help wishing she had put on a quick coat of nail varnish before she’d left the house tonight.

  Penelope slid forward, one arm draping conspiratorially around Harry’s neck. ‘So, how did you two meet?’

  It was the voice. It was delicious. Like syrup. All accented, immaculate sounds. Esther knew her own accent was thick. She liked it that way. A few times she’d purposely spoken much quicker than usual in order to put another person firmly in their place. A Scots accent could do that—particularly when dealing with a drunk in A&E. There was a real no-nonsense attitude about a thick Scottish accent that Esther relished.

  But tonight? It just made her feel uncouth.

  She tried to speak properly, dulling her accent and finishing every word. ‘We met at work,’ she said, ignoring the look that Harry shot her. ‘I’m a midwife in NICU.’

  Penelope blinked. ‘What’s NICU?’

  ‘Prem babies,’ said Esther quickly.

  Penelope slapped her other hand on Harry’s chest—and left it there. ‘Oh, of course. Silly me.’

  Her eyes went between them both, her smile getting wider. ‘So, you met at work. That’s kind of cute.’

  Harry shifted in his seat. Esther was suddenly intensely aware that on both times Harry had introduced her—first to Penelope’s parents, and then to Penelope—he’d described her as a ‘good friend.’ What did that mean exactly? It was sort of bland. Sort of nothing. Or at least nothing important.

  Was that what they were? They hadn’t even had that conversation yet. And Esther didn’t like the way that burned inside.

  She was also trying really, really hard not to bristle at the way Penelope had draped herself possessively around Harry. The girl wasn’t giving off vibes. The kind of ‘I was here first’ thing you sometimes got with exes. Instead, she was showing how comfortable she was around Harry.

  Penelope waved her hand for some more wine and a waiter appeared immediately. He lowered his head to Penelope’s. ‘My usual,’ she said easily. ‘Harry’s too, and—’ she leaned forward ‘—pick your poison, Esther.’

  Esther didn’t miss a heartbeat. She named a tonic wine that was commonly known in Scotland. Something she was entirely sure a posh place like this wouldn’t have in a million years. She wasn’t quite sure why she did it.

  Was it because she already knew she didn’t fit in and wanted to send a message that she had no intention of conforming? She didn’t even like that tonic wine, and hadn’t touched it since she was a teenager. But it was like all her spiny prickles were coming out at once.

  Penelope blinked and smiled. ‘Never heard of that one.’ She repeated it to the waiter, who quickly disappeared.

  A tuxedo-suited man stepped up to the podium at the end of the room, announcing the start of the auction. Penelope shot Esther an excited glance. ‘Which one do you want to bid on?’

  Every cell in Esther’s body prickled. She was almost sure that Penelope didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable. The woman had a generally welcoming nature. Maybe she just believed the rest of this room was just as rich as she was. But Esther had already told her that she and Harry worked together. Did she honestly expect a NHS worker to have funds to spend on the charity auction?

  Within a few minutes Esther realised that the bidding here wasn’t for the faint-hearted. Her knuckles were turning white holding the programme as the bids climbed and climbed.

  The room felt oppressive, as if the heat were closing in around her. The waiter appeared back with the drinks. He shot Esther a grin as he lowered her familiar drink next to her. ‘None of the monk’s wine,’ he said, revealing his Scots accent. She started. Only someone who’d been brought up in Scotland would know that the traditional tonic wine was made by monks. The man’s eyes gleamed as he sat down a tall glass in front of her. ‘So I brought you our other favourite.’

  Esther laughed out loud as she looked at the bright blue liquid topped by ruby red, a memory of home shooting through her. She hadn’t even been much of a drinker as a teenager, but this definitely reminded her of stale village halls and sitting in the park on a summer’s day.

  Harry leaned closer. ‘What on earth is that?’

  ‘A bit of my past.’ She grinned, taking a sip and grimacing.

  ‘What’s in it?’ he asked.

  ‘Vodka and port.’ She pushed it towards him. ‘Try it.’

  He took a tentative sip and wrinkled his nose. ‘It tastes like...’ He paused, clearly trying to place it.

  Esther named a popular fruity carbonated drink.

  ‘That’s it,’ he said, throwing his hands up.

  ‘Harry Beaumont, thank you for your bid.’

  Esther felt the colour drain from her as Penelope let out a shriek of laughter. Her hand landed on Harry’s arm again. ‘Oh, you clown. Do you know what you just bid on?’

  He sat back in his chair, looking relaxed, if a little stunned. Esther couldn’t breathe. She felt sick. This was her fault.

  Penelope opened her programme and pointed to something. ‘Here. You’ve just bid on a two-day break in a cottage in Scotland.’

  Harry shrugged. ‘How much did I bid?’

  ‘Twenty thousand,’ said Penelope, as if she’d just mentioned a sum of money that bought a chocolate bar.

  ‘Oh, okay,’ said Harry, barely blinking.

  ‘Okay?’ All heads at the table turned to Esther’s incredulous voice. Inside she felt like she was dying. Harry had just spent twenty thousand pounds by mistake and he didn’t seem the least bit bothered. Just how rich was this guy?

  That thought alone made her immensely uncomfortable.

  Penelope leaned in front of Harry and gave Esther a comforting grin. ‘Don’t worry. That’s spare change to this guy.’

  Esther just couldn’t find words. She sat back in her chair and watched the spots form in front of her eyes. She’d never
felt more like Cinderella in her life. This must be some kind of warped fairy tale.

  The auction continued and she sat in a blur. Every cell in her body told her she should be apologising to Harry for being part of the mistake, but she could see he honestly wasn’t the least bit bothered and that worried her much more than a blazing argument over whose fault the errant bid was.

  Money meant everything to her. In a horrible, materialistic, never-admit-to kind of way. She counted every single penny. She had to, in order to help her mum. Five days out of seven she would pack her lunch. She only allowed herself a coffee from the cart on the Thames twice a week. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d bought herself something new to wear. Why buy more clothes when she had perfectly reasonable ones in her cupboard?

  A thought of her own life back in Scotland shot into her head. How different it was. This place was all smoke and mirrors. The words Lady Brackenridge had spoken were stuck in her mind. Harry hadn’t experienced the same love that she had. Would she have swapped her parents and small house in Scotland for a life like this? Never.

  She kept her face perfectly calm as she took some long slow breaths in and out. Harry’s hand had crept over to hers and his fingers intertwined with hers. Tingles shot up her arm. Tingles that she really liked.

  But this was wrong. Nothing about her and Harry was a match.

  She watched as he chatted easily to Penelope. The girl was gorgeous. She seemed genuinely nice and every now and then tried to include Esther in the conversation. But they were talking about friends and casual acquaintances—people that had never, and would never, move in the same circles as Esther.

  The more she watched, the more she felt a distance grow between her and Harry. Penelope was a good match for him. She was beautiful. She was intelligent. She fitted easily into his life.

  Not like Esther, with her extra shifts and shabby flat.

  Even though she was sitting here in Carly’s beautiful gown, her previous confidence was ebbing away little by little.

  Then all of a sudden the auction was over. The guests all stood as the tables were removed and a band was spirited in through another door. The music began as waiters started to circulate with drink-filled trays again.

  Harry gestured towards one and Esther shook her head. ‘No thanks. Want to keep a clear head for tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re working again?’

  She nodded. ‘Just my normal shift in NICU. I’m looking forward to it. I want to see my babies, and I want to see Jill.’

  Harry gave a nod as the music changed. He held out one hand towards her. ‘How’s your dancing?’

  ‘Rave or highland?’ she asked cheekily.

  He gave a surprised jerk at the spectrum. ‘I was kind of thinking of something slower,’ he said. Her hand was now in his and he pulled her closer and slid his hand around her waist.

  It didn’t matter how much her brain had been screaming at her. Telling her that she and Harry weren’t a match in any sense. Her heart wasn’t listening at all. It was beating wildly at the feel of his body against hers.

  His hand slid up to the bare skin at her neck and brushed some of her fine hairs that escaped from the top of her head. The touch was like butterflies on her skin, their wings flapping in a tickly sort of way.

  His face broke into a smile, one that only seemed for her. ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  She wanted to spill out a whole lot of answers. But she remembered him in the car, talking about his parents. The expression on his face. It was the first time she’d seen Harry looking vulnerable and less than confident.

  She couldn’t offload onto him. It didn’t seem right. She licked her lips. ‘I guess I’m just seeing how the other half live.’

  A frown creased his brow as he moved her smoothly around the floor in time to the music. ‘You’re not happy? Do you want to leave?’

  For a second she saw his eyes scan the room, looking back to the bar where Penelope was sipping wine and talking to someone.

  She stiffened. She couldn’t help it. Maybe he was embarrassed by her, tired of her, and would prefer to spend time in the company of his peers. ‘Do you want me to?’

  He stopped dancing and looked down at her. ‘No. Why on earth would you think that?’

  Esther’s heart felt as if it were fluttering against her chest wall. ‘I... I just...’ The words stuck somewhere in her throat. She was making a mess of this.

  His hand came down and slid through her hair, resting at the back of her neck. His mouth only inches from her face. ‘Esther, I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I thought you might like it tonight. Maybe I wasn’t thinking...maybe I should have—’

  She put her finger up to his lips and shook her head. ‘I don’t think this is about you, Harry. I think we’re just different. Different lives, different backgrounds.’

  ‘Opposites attract.’ He looked her straight in the eye.

  Part of her heart ached for him when she thought about what Lady Brackenridge had said earlier. But this close up to Harry, she could feel her pulse rate rising.

  She couldn’t help but smile. ‘I might know a guy who told me that.’

  He leaned forward and kissed her. ‘Then trust him. I think I know that guy too. He’s okay—in fact, I think he wants to take you to dinner.’

  Every part of her wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and keep kissing him. But they were in the middle of a ballroom with five hundred other people; it was hardly appropriate. She leaned back. ‘He does?’

  ‘He absolutely does.’ Harry grabbed her hand and led her straight across the dance floor, dodging the other people and not stopping to speak to anyone. He pulled his phone from his pocket and made a one-minute call. His car pulled up moments later and he held the door open for her.

  She clicked her seat belt. ‘Harry, what are you doing?’

  ‘Taking you to the place I should have done earlier.’

  She twisted her head at the rapidly vanishing hall behind them. ‘But what about your friends?’

  He shook his head, his dark eyes meeting hers, and he halted at the bottom of the driveway. ‘I’m not interested in them. I’m interested in you.’

  ‘Oh.’ It was the only answer she could find. The traffic was much lighter now and they crossed London easily, pulling up and parking on a street she was unfamiliar with.

  He came around and opened her door again, then bent down and lifted the hem of her dress just an inch. ‘What are you doing?’ She let out a high-pitched kind of squeal.

  ‘Checking your shoes. How do you think they’ll do on cobbles—want me to carry you?’

  She’d only had a few seconds to consider the question before he swept her up into his arms and started striding down a street just around the corner.

  ‘Hey!’ She let out a laugh as he covered the street easily, stopping outside a red wooden door and setting her down gently.

  He knocked on the door and Esther leaned back to see the front of the building. She could see a small sign in French, along with a sign for the famous stars that were awarded to restaurants around the globe.

  The door opened and a short man with a broad smile greeted them. ‘Don’t say I’m not good to you.’ He nodded to Harry.

  Harry took Esther’s hand again and led her up a flight of stairs. The restaurant he led her into was small and welcoming, and completely empty.

  She spun around. ‘Where is everybody?’

  He held out his hands. ‘It’s ours, for the night.’

  The short guy appeared again behind them and held out his hand to Esther. ‘Armand.’ He nodded his head towards Harry. ‘It seems I’m your personal chef for the night.’

  Esther’s eyes widened. ‘What? No way.’

  Armand gave a casual shrug. ‘What can I say? I owe him. He asks for the restaurant for the night, he gets it.’


  Armand waved his hand and started to walk to the kitchen, then paused, his hand on the door. ‘Any allergies?’

  Esther shook her head.

  ‘Anything you absolutely won’t eat?’

  She shook her head again.

  ‘Oh good, then let me go and create for you something wonderful. Help yourself to wine, Harry,’ he shouted over his shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen.

  Esther shook her head and held out her hands. ‘How on earth do you get a starred restaurant for the night?’

  Harry held out a chair for her. ‘The place officially closed last night for refurbishment. So I knew it would be empty tonight. The work doesn’t start until next week.’

  ‘And Armand is a friend of yours?’

  He grinned as he selected a bottle of wine. ‘Armand actually did his first two years of med school with me. But he had a change of heart. His dream was being a chef, not a doctor, and he followed his heart.’

  She watched as he poured the wine into the glasses on the table. This all seemed so surreal. She took a small sip. ‘So, how does he owe you?’

  Harry made an awkward kind of sound as he sat opposite her. ‘I gave him the backing to start his first restaurant.’

  ‘Oh.’ She wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that one. She had no idea what that amount of money would have been, but she was sure enough to know it wouldn’t have been insubstantial.

  ‘He’s paid it all back.’ Harry gave a smile. ‘So he doesn’t really owe me. It’s just a figure of speech.’

  Esther sipped the wine again and tried to ignore the little tight coil currently in her stomach. It had eased a bit since they had left Eglinton Hall.

  She rested her head on one hand. ‘I can’t believe you did this.’

  Harry looked surprised. ‘Why not? Don’t you think you’re worth it?’

  All she could do was blink, because those words hit a whole bunch of nerves she didn’t even realise she had. It was like a chilly breeze over her skin. She didn’t lack confidence as a person. She knew she was good at her job. And she was comfortable in her own skin. But tonight, in a place that had practically smelled of money, she been distinctly uncomfortable. And Esther didn’t like feeling like that. Every cell in her body had practically told her to leave.