“Reverse psychology.”
“Exactly. I love Ally, but she was too perfect to compete with. Maybe your friend Zac’s the same way, and that’s why Cilla acted a little wild?”
“Zac started a highly successful export business right out of school, and became a millionaire when he was twenty-four.”
She snorted. “Case closed. That’s probably why his sister went to buy drugs. Half the crazy things I’ve done have been because I knew my mother would be horrified.”
Damien shook his head in disbelief. In just a few minutes, she understood Cilla better than Damien ever had. That couldn’t be a good thing.
I can’t get hurt like that again. And if I let my guard down, I’m giving Geena the power to do just that.
Uncomfortable, he extracted his arm from underneath her and sat up. “There’s something I want to tell you. My PR Company is setting me up with a movie star for a very public date. It’s only for the cameras, to help my reputation. But I don’t want you to see it in the news and get the wrong idea.” Not that he knew what the wrong idea was, exactly. Who knew, perhaps the movie star would be his perfect match? She certainly looked good on paper.
“What’s her name?”
“Alexa Worthington.”
Geena frowned. “That rings a bell. What’s she been in?”
“A small part in the last Bond film, apparently.” He got out of bed and moved towards the ensuite. “Don’t forget your appointment with the bank manager is at one o’clock.”
“As if I could forget. You’re not coming into the store today?”
Damien shook his head. “As well as serving lunch at the shelter, I have other appointments that can’t be postponed. Besides, you’re ready to get the loan you need. Once you have it, all you need to do is follow the business plan I made for you, and I’m confident you’ll start showing a profit.”
“I hope so.”
“I know you’ll be great. You’ll get the money.” He hesitated, looking at her worried face. He’d done all he could for her. Now he should cut all ties, before this turned into something he couldn’t deal with. Say goodbye and tell her you can’t see her again. But he couldn’t help himself. “Call me after your appointment,” he heard himself say. “Let me know how it went.”
“What if I mess up and he says no?”
“There’s one sure way you can get him to say yes.”
“There is?” Her eyes lit with hope. “What is it?”
“Don’t mess up.”
16
Geena watched Damien go with a bad feeling gnawing at her gut. She couldn’t lie to herself and pretend what they had wasn’t special, at least to her. She’d never found a man she felt so good around.
But he seemed to believe she was as foolhardy as his dead lover. Geena would never go to a dodgy, run-down boarding house by herself at night. She was impulsive, but she wasn’t an idiot. Not that she could tell him that, when it would have come out sounding like she was criticizing a dead woman.
And as if that wasn’t enough, he was going on a date with a famous actress who was probably gorgeous. She grabbed her phone off the bedside table. Not that it mattered what Alexa Worthington looked like. In fact, she shouldn’t even look her up. Yeah, right. As the pictures of a stunning blonde came up, her stomach twisted. Alexa Worthington was everything Geena wasn’t. Elegant and conventionally dressed, for a start. People would stare at Alexa because she was beautiful, not because she had pink hair and tattoos. She was just the kind of woman you’d expect to see on Damien’s arm.
Stop it, Geena. Their date is only for the cameras.
But Damien had made it very clear he didn’t want a relationship with Geena. Would he give Alexa Worthington the same speech? Not likely.
Hating herself for feeling so bad about it, Geena got up, dressed, and headed back to her own place without stopping to enjoy another Isobelle-cooked breakfast. Instead she picked up a coffee and muffin on the way.
And after pacing up and down the street for a while, arguing with herself, she went into the pharmacy and bought a bottle of brown hair dye.
In the safety of her own tiny bathroom, she studied herself in the mirror. Pink hair suited her. And brown-haired Geena hadn’t done anything exciting, had she? Brown-haired Geena had been desperate for her mother’s approval. Changing her look had been an act of defiance, but somehow the color had made her more daring and confident. Knowing her mother would never approve of the way she looked had made it easier to accept that she wouldn’t have measured up anyway.
If she went back to brown, would she lose that confidence?
And would she really be more acceptable to the bank manager – and to Damien?
Not that Damien should factor into this decision. But what if there was a chance he’d change his mind about not wanting a relationship? Maybe a sensible, brown-haired sex store owner had a better chance of fitting into his world than a pink-haired woman he thought was crazy and reckless? She sighed. If only. Even with brown hair she’d never compete with the likes of Alexa Worthington.
Geena tore open the box and put on the plastic gloves she found inside. She took the lid off the bottle, then hesitated, looking at herself again. Pink suited her. Not just her looks, but the way she felt on the inside. She wasn’t like everyone else. She didn’t want to be, anyway.
But she wanted Damien. Besides, it was just hair dye. She could always go back to pink after her meeting with the bank manager. Or she could keep it brown for the wedding and make her mother happy too. Not that pleasing her would ever be that easy. But if she also covered her tattoos and smiled sweetly at whomever her mother set her up with, maybe she could earn a small measure of the approval Ally took for granted.
A sensible brunette is not who I am. But it’s who the bank manager, my mother, and perhaps even Damien want me to be. And if it means I might have even a small chance with Damien, I’m ready to stop fighting it.
Resolutely, she covered her hair with the stuff, waited for thirty long minutes, then washed it out and dried it.
When she’d finished, she stared the stranger in the mirror while her gut roiled. She looked all wrong.
Stop it, Geena. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Get over yourself. What does the color of your hair matter? It was time to start work. She was eager to see the customers’ reaction to the new party packages they’d set up yesterday and find out if her scavenger hunt lists were going to sell as well as she hoped.
And her heart was thumping at the thought of her one o’clock appointment. Could she convince her bank manager to give her the money she needed? If she didn’t, she’d have to give Billy his notice today. No matter what she thought of her new hair color, it had been worth dying it just in case it made a difference. She needed all the help she could get.
She squared her shoulders and went downstairs to open the store. Between customers she reviewed the figures she was going to present, making sure she was absolutely prepared. The morning whizzed by, and Billy came in at lunchtime to look after the store while she visited the bank.
“Woah.” He did a double take when he saw her. “I didn’t recognize you. That’s a change.”
“What do you think?” She tried a nervous smile so he wouldn’t see how her hands were shaking. “Would you give me a loan?”
“I’d have given you a loan anyway.” He gave her a shy smile. “If he’s reluctant, he should come in here and watch you in action. You’re great at selling and our customers love you. You deserve this place to be a huge success.”
She smiled at him, touched and pleased. “Thanks Billy. I hope I can make him see that.” Especially because now it’s going to be even more gut-wrenching to have to let you go if I don’t get the loan.
Her hand went up to touch her locket, before she remembered it was gone forever. She’d already given so much for her store, and now it was all coming down to this one meeting. If she couldn’t convince her bank manager she was worth investing in, it was all over.
As she walked out of the store, Damien’s voice came back to her, his parting words. Don’t mess up.
She gripped the printouts of her figures tightly as she strode towards the bank. “I won’t,” she promised herself.
* * *
Damien poured plenty of gravy on the dry, stringy meat, and handed the plate of food to one of the men in the queue at the homeless shelter. When the man met his eyes and mumbled his thanks, Damien caught his breath. He had thin, stringy hair and a weathered face, but there was something about the man that reminded Damien of his father.
At least the camera flashes had stopped going off. Damien had been here well over an hour and now the reporters had left he could finally start to relax. And the men he’d been serving food to hadn’t seemed liked rapists or murderers. They were reserved, but he could tell they were grateful for the meager meal.
He dished up another plate of food, conscious how unappetizing it looked compared to the meals he was used to. Isobelle would be horrified. When he handed the plate to the next man in line, he was almost tempted to apologize for it.
His phone rang and Geena’s name flashed on the screen. Hopefully she was calling with good news. He nodded to one of the regular servers who took his place, and stepped to one side for privacy before he answered the call.
“I did it!”
Damien grinned and lifted the phone away from his ear so he wouldn’t be deafened. “I knew you would.”
“You should have seen me. The bank manager had to be ninety. Grey haired, little spectacles. I thought there was no way he was going to give it to me, but when I started rattling off figures, I impressed the socks off him.” Geena let out a loud whoop. “He approved my loan. I can pay my tax bill, and do all those other things you suggested. You have no idea how good I feel right now.”
Her excitement was contagious and he felt like doing a little whooping himself. “Well done.”
“Thanks to you. I’m taking you out to celebrate tonight. Let’s go dancing.”
“I don’t dance.”
That dropped her volume a little. “Why not?”
“Because dancing is stupid and pointless.”
“The point is to have fun.”
“Dancing isn’t fun.” He sounded harsher than he meant, but whenever he said he didn’t dance, most women took it as a personal challenge. If he’d dance with them, surely he’d change his mind. Why couldn’t they just accept that he didn’t like it?
“Okay, so you hate dancing. Then we’ll go for dinner. It’s on me.”
Damien let out a soundless sigh. She’d only just got the money to save her store and she was offering to buy him dinner with it? Didn’t she get that he had more money than he could spend? This was a typically crazy invitation, but at the same time, it was a little touching. Of all the women he’d dated, not one had ever offered to pay for dinner.
“You have a lot to do with that money and dinner definitely isn’t in the budget,” he said sternly.
“I want to say thanks for all you’ve done. The store looks amazing and I’ve sold two of the new party packages this morning.” She lowered her voice. “And I’m pretty sure I’m about to make another sale. There are a group of women looking at them right now.”
Damien hesitated. If he refused to see her tonight, he’d be ruining her moment of triumph. But if he went along, he’d have to tell her that was the end of it. That he couldn’t see her again. Shame it would be during her celebration dinner, but the sooner he did it, the better. She deserved to hear it from him in person, and he’d try to make her understand why.
He glanced towards the small number of men still waiting for a meal. He’d dished out a lot of food today, but lunchtime was almost over. “I’ll pick you up at eight, and I’ll pay. No arguments.”
“Eight is good. I’ve collated all my notes and finished the article. You can check it tonight before I give it to my sister to tidy up.” Her voice rose. “Hey, are those kitchen noises? Are you still at the shelter?”
“I am.”
“Not so bad then?”
“Surprisingly not.”
“I’m impressed. Have you sat down and had something to eat yourself?”
He grimaced at the awful meat. “Here?”
“It’s the perfect opportunity to practice being friendly. Talk to some of the people and hear their stories. You might be surprised.”
Damien glanced over to where the man who had reminded him of his father was eating his meal. Beside him was a young, gangly man who wouldn’t look out of place on a college campus. How had they got here? Maybe he should go and sit down for a while. They might not mind a little company.
“Sorry Damien, I have to go, I have a customer. See you tonight.”
He hung up and sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to their dinner, but he’d do what had to be done. In the meantime, she’d made him curious about the people here. He might even be willing to force down a little of that meat if it helped break the ice.
Grabbing a plate, he spooned some food onto it. And couldn’t help a rueful smile. A week ago he’d never have considered sitting down for lunch with a group of homeless men in a shelter. Because a week ago he hadn’t met Geena.
17
Geena pretended to straighten a row of boxes while she waited for Damien to arrive. She felt almost as nervous about him seeing her new brown hair as she had about her appointment with the bank manager. If only their dinner would go as well as her loan application had, but after their phone conversation she wasn’t sure she could hope for that.
All day she’d been thinking about how badly she wanted to keep seeing Damien. She’d been praying that he felt the same, that he didn’t want their time together to end. But on the phone he’d sounded hesitant and she’d got the feeling he was reluctant to see her again.
She finished straightening a display that didn’t need it, and moved onto rearranging a basket of vibrating balls. Maybe she should have told him to forget it, that she didn’t need him to do her any favors. After Justin, the last thing she needed was to have someone else tell her she wasn’t good enough. But maybe she was reading too much into their phone conversation and she’d imagined the reluctance in his voice?
Crap. She was driving herself crazy. It was almost eight, and she’d know for sure soon enough.
After a few more minutes of moving products around, she saw his car draw up outside and stop in the no-parking zone, as usual. The rules never seemed to apply to Damien.
“See you tomorrow, Billy.”
She didn’t wait for his reply, but stepped onto the sidewalk as Damien was getting out of his car.
His eyes widened. “You’ve changed your hair.”
Her heart was thumping, but she lifted her chin and moved towards the passenger door without answering. He opened it for her but didn’t kiss her. In fact, he didn’t touch her at all. She had to swallow hard as he shut her door then went around and slid into the driver’s seat. Instead of starting the engine, he studied her. A small frown creased his brow, and her stomach turned over.
“You don’t like it,” she said.
“It’s just that you don’t look like yourself.” He hesitated. “You didn’t change it for me, did you?”
“No.” It sounded like a lie, even to her ears. “I wanted to look more conventional for the bank manager.”
Suddenly she felt like crying. She’d almost managed to convince herself that she hadn’t done it to look more like somebody who could fit into a billionaire’s world. But his reaction was so disappointing, she could no longer pretend that wasn’t exactly what she’d been hoping.
Thank goodness, Damien started the car and pulled out into the traffic. Without his eyes on her, she could take a deep breath and pull herself together.
I don’t care what he thinks.
She sighed. Yeah, and if I say it enough times it might turn into the truth.
“Rosalind booked us a table at La Diva. That okay with you?”
Geena shrugged. She’d never heard of it, but it was bound to be one of those over-priced places she hated.
And sure enough, the waiters wore black suits, while the tables were set with white linen tablecloths and far too much cutlery. The other diners wore formal clothes and their polite murmurs were swallowed up by the hushed air of the place. Every dish on the menu had a jus, emulsion, or reduction, and she had no idea what the difference was. And the fact there weren’t any prices on the menu? Bad sign.
Bet nobody ever dared wear vibrating panties to dinner here.
The thought sent a pang of longing through her. Why couldn’t they go back to the way things had been? Had he really not enjoyed himself?
Their waiter fussed around them, pouring their wine and taking their order. When he was finally gone, Damien gave her a concerned look. “Are you okay here? You look a little uncomfortable.”
She stiffened. “You think I don’t fit in here?”
“It’s not that.” He shook his head, abandoning whatever he’d been going to say. “How’s the wine?”
“Fine.” No doubt it was expensive and probably delicious, but she could barely taste it. She hadn’t been wrong about his reluctance to see her tonight, and now she had a sick certainty that she was about to get a version of the same speech Justin had given her.
But if he expected her to endure a whole dinner before he broke her heart, she couldn’t do it. Forget discussing the blog article she had in her handbag. Forget three over-priced courses, or polite small talk. She just wanted it over with.
“You don’t want to see me again,” she said abruptly.
“You want to do this now?” When she held his gaze, he sighed. “I’ve enjoyed our time together. But we’re not right for each other.”
She sucked in a breath. “So this is it?”
“Our lives are too different for us to make sense together.”
“Different how?” She shouldn’t ask, it would only hurt more. But she wanted to hear it from him, to know exactly why she wasn’t good enough for him.
The Rich List Series: Contemporary Romance Box Set (Millionaire, Billionaire, CEO) Page 32
