I pretend to mull it over some more, to really make him worry I’m turning him down. ‘I mean, I really should be getting on with the costumes for the parade.’
Is he starting to sweat? I love having the power to make him jittery.
‘But... okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.’
He nods without smiling. Wait, what the hell am I going to wear? I’m guessing with his penguin suit it’s a fancy affair.
‘Oh, but I don’t have a formal dress.’ You don’t normally need one with a nanny job.
He frowns, his eyes darting from side to side. ‘Ah. That could be a problem.’ I nod. ‘Actually, I might have an idea.’
He takes my hand and leads me out of my room. He keeps hold of it up the two sets of stairs and into his top floor bedroom, pulling me along behind him. It feels so strange to be holding his hand. Being in his bedroom is weird too. I haven’t seen it before, and it feels strangely intimate. It’s all very tranquil, whites and pale blues.
He leads me into a dressing room. The kind of thing you see on Pinterest and pin just in case one day you win the lottery. All wooden doors and glossy mirrors that look like they’ve never been touched. Mrs Dumfy must be an amazing cleaner.
He opens one of the doors to reveal a treasure’s chest of evening gowns. Wow. They must be his wife’s gowns.
‘I never had the heart to throw any of her clothes out,’ he admits, dropping my hand.
I smile at him, wanting nothing more than to take his hand and give it a squeeze, but I know he wouldn’t like me to.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind me wearing one of these? Aren’t they kind of precious to you?’ I don’t want to overstep.
Knowing me I’ll drop my wine down it. It’s a lot of pressure.
He sighs, looking at them with fondness. It’s like every memory of her wearing them goes through his head until he’s clearing his throat, choosing to hide the emotion.
‘Yes, but they’re just going to waste in here. You might as well borrow one.’
‘Okay.’ I flick through them, taffeta, silk, lace. They’re all stunning but I choose a floor length chiffon lavender dress with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves. It’s simple with a cinched in waist, the fabric flowing to the floor. It’s the most stunning dress I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d never get a chance to wear this in my world.
I take it down to my bedroom and quickly curl my hair and apply make-up. Thank god I showered and shaved this morning. I put the dress on, but need help zipping it up. It doesn’t matter how much I contort my arms; I just can’t get to it. I check myself in the mirror and you can see my black knickers. I can’t ask him to help me with this. Damn.
I tangle my arms as far around as I can, trying to get it up to at least a respectable height. I’m still trying when he knocks on my door. Dammit.
I quickly open the door, still trying to grapple with it. He freezes and just stares at me, eyes wide. So much so that I worry there’s something on my face. Or that I’ve sneezed and smudged my mascara under my eyes.
‘What?’ I ask, feeling around my face.
‘Sorry.’ He shakes his head as if only just coming back to reality. ‘Nothing. It’s just that you look...’ He clears his throat and straightens his spine. ‘Fine. You look fine.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Gee, thanks for the amazing confidence boost.’
He smiles and shakes his head, his brown eyes meeting mine. They hold an intensity I’ve never seen before. Flipping flamingos, if he keeps looking at me like that my knickers will full on combust.
‘Come on, you know you look good.’
‘Ooh, from fine to good,’ I joke. ‘My confidence has gone through the roof! I don’t know if I’ll be able to fit my head out of the door at this rate.’
His eyes roll to the ceiling. ‘Do you need help with the zip?’
I stop trying and turn around for him to help me.
‘Marge!’ he calls, making me nearly jump out of my skin.
I turn around to face him. ‘Are you serious?’ Is he scared of me or something? ‘Just be a man and do it yourself.’
He huffs, like it’s really putting him out, but eventually relents and does me up. Not all slow and sexy like it is in the movies. Nope, he zips it up so quickly I’m surprised he hasn’t caught my skin in it.
He claps his hands together. ‘We’re late. Let’s go.’
I snort. ‘And they say chivalry is dead.’
‘After you.’
Chapter 20
Ruby
I’m thrumming my hands nervously on the inside of the cab as it hurries through the streets of London.
‘Stop doing that,’ he snaps, his voice never raising. ‘You’re annoying me.’
I sigh. He’s such an arsehole. I’m always irritating him.
‘Well, sorry. Remember you’re the one that’s ruined my night. I could be at home binge watching Netflix in my pyjamas right now.’
His eyes widen and his mouth turns in disgust. ‘Some women would find it a treat to be taken to a fancy hotel and treated to champagne and canapes.’
I raise my eyebrows at him. ‘Yeah, well I’m not most women.’
‘You can say that again,’ he mutters under his breath, looking out of the window.
It’s so hard to say whether he truly finds me a pain in the arse or actually ever so slightly amusing to have around. I feel like I’m constantly walking a tight rope between them both.
The black cab comes to a stop outside The Landmark hotel. Oh God, this looks posh. I hope it’s not full of pretentious arseholes. I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. I’m used to always being in the background of posh people. This has me suddenly worrying if I’ll stand out like a sore thumb.
‘Show time,’ Barclay says, jumping out and offering me his hand.
I take it to get out and then he offers me his arm to link onto. I take it, glad for the emotional support. He must know I’m nervous. Either that or wants to treat me like a little trophy.
We walk into the foyer. I’d like to think I’ve been to a fair few hotels in my time, but never have I seen anything like this. It’s all cream marble with enormous palm trees in plant pots. Around them are what look like holiday apartments. It’s very bizarre.
He leads me into a room with high ceilings, stunning huge chandeliers and round tables set up with white tablecloths, people chatting around them. Luckily, we’re not so late that people stop what they’re doing and stare at us. He guides me over to a table just as they’re serving the starters.
Everyone says their hellos to Barclay.
‘May I introduce Ruby Campbell.’
I smile awkwardly. ‘Like the soup.’ Then I snort a laugh.
Jesus, alive! What the hell is wrong with me?
Barclay raises his eyebrows, as if warning me to at least appear normal to others. He quickly introduces them, one by one. I forget their names as soon as I’m told them.
Some cheese and walnuts are placed down in front of me.
He leans over to whisper in my ear. ‘Sorry, these are Queenie’s choices.’
The feel of his breath against my skin does funny things to me. I look at my arms and yep, I’ve got goosepimples. Must get a grip, Ruby. This is not a date.
Queenie? Hang on, isn’t that the woman I caught him making out with the other night? She’s his work colleague too? Talk about dipping his end in the company ink.
I grimace and whisper back. ‘Yeah...I don’t like cheese.’
He stops dead and stares at me like I just told him I have six nipples and moo at the moon.
‘Sorry? You don’t like cheese? What kind of person doesn’t like cheese?’ He seems genuinely pissed.
I put my hand up. ‘This kind of person.’
I mean, I’ll have it melted on a pizza, but I can’t stomach it on its own. He’s probably been brought up with goat’s cheese fountains being the norm and he has the audacity to call me out as the weirdo.
‘Champagne, madam?’ A waiter ask
s me.
‘Oh.’ I stop him pouring and beckon him closer. ‘Do you have any prosecco?’ I whisper conspiratorially. I’ve never liked champagne. Too sharp.
He purses his lips to try and hide a smile. Obviously not used to women refusing champagne in favour of the cheaper stuff. Riff raff that I am.
‘Of course, madam. I’ll go arrange that for you.’
‘Thank you!’ I whisper, giving him a thumbs up.
I push around the cheese on my plate, at least trying to look like I’m enjoying it. Every now and then Barclay takes a bit from my and eats it. Thank God. I don’t know if he’s doing it to be sweet, so I don’t get embarrassed or because he doesn’t want me showing him up.
The waiter brings back a glass of prosecco and I smile my thank you.
‘What did you ask for?’ Barclay questions, giving me a suspicious smile, one eyebrow quirked.
‘Prosecco,’ I admit my face scrunching with a cringe. I don’t know why. I’m not embarrassed. ‘I hate champagne. It gives me a headache.’
He smiles and shakes his head. Like ‘only you.’ Plenty of people prefer prosecco, thank you very much, you pompous arse.
I take the walnut in my hand and attempt to crack it open. Barclay discreetly takes my hand and hides it under the table. When I look up at him, he’s still talking to someone, never missing a beat. He ever so discreetly shakes his head and removes the walnut from my hand.
Bloody spoil sport. Maybe I’ll try to do it again. I like it when he touches me. Well my body does at least. My skin is still tingling from his touch.
Next its chicken breast with potato and green beans. Finally, something I recognise. I munch away, happily tuning out the boring chit chat they’re all droning on about. Nothing of it interests me and I doubt he brought me along to hear my scintillating conversation about playground politics or the latest Peppa Pig episode.
‘You happy?’ he asks, biting his lips to try and hide a smile, watching me enjoying my food.
‘I am now,’ I nod, doing my happy food dance. What can I say? When I’m eating something yummy my body can’t help but dance in celebration.
Dessert is even better. A pear baked with chocolate cream and vanilla sauce. I nearly orgasm right there at the table.
When I’m done, I keep looking around, trying to find my waiter guy to top up my glass. I suppose I’ll have to go to the makeshift bar in the next room.
‘Just going to the ladies,’ I lie to Barclay, excusing myself. I don’t want him to have an excuse to take the piss out of me again.
I go straight to the long table they’re using as the bar. I hide behind a huge burgundy flower arrangement, just in case Barclay sees me. I smile at a barman and request my prosecco.
‘I’m sure I can find some for you,’ he smiles, going off in search of it. I’d probably have more fun with the waiters. More my kind of people.
I check my phone just in case Mrs Dumfy has been trying to reach me. I hate the idea of the girls waking up and neither me nor Barclay being there.
‘Barclay!’ Someone exclaims, in a ridiculously posh voice, the other side of the flower. ‘How are you? It’s been a long time.’
‘Too long,’ Barclay agrees.
I shrink down, desperate to be hidden. If he finds me at the bar, he’ll think he’s brought a right lush.
‘Who’s that hot totty you brought with you? New plaything?’
My eyes widen in horror. Do people really talk like this? It’s like an episode of Made in Chelsea.
‘No, no, nothing like that,’ he says with a chuckle. ‘She’s just the kids’ nanny.’
I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. Just the kids’ nanny? I shouldn’t be offended by that. It is, after all, what I am. But it’s the way he said just. Just as if being a nanny is a low down derogatory job. Like I’d definitely be in the basement in Downton abbey.
‘Mind if I take a crack at it then?’ his pig of a friend asks. Ugh. Just try it fuck face, I’ll knee you in the balls so quick.
Barclay laughs. Actually laughs. The traitorous bastard. They’re talking about me like I’m some cheap tart.
Just then the waiter comes walking towards me. ‘Found the prosecco!’ he says loudly.
Shit, loud enough for anyone to hear.
Chapter 21
Ruby
I grab the glass off him, mumble a thanks and high tail it out of there. Only, I have to pass Barclay and his friend to go back into the main room. I do with my head down, but Barclay is already watching me with trepidation written all over his face. He probably knew it was me the minute they mentioned prosecco, common little thing that I am. I’m mortified.
I see him race after me in my proverbial vision, but I don’t stop until I’m back in the main room. I back myself into a corner and down the prosecco, some dribbling down my face. Real classy, Rubes.
‘Ruby,’ Barclay says, not noticing my fuck off vibes. And my vibes are strong.
‘Don’t Barclay,’ I stop him, my palms up. ‘I’m going home.’
I pick up the front of my dress and high tail it out of there. There’s a line of black cabs outside, thank god. I jump in one the doorman directs me to.
‘Wait!’ I hear him shout.
The doorman holds the door open for him and he jumps in next to me. Ugh, idiot.
I give the driver our address and attempt to stare out of the window, ignoring him. Nothing he can say will make me feel less of a disposable human being. It’s started to rain. It fits my mood perfectly. I feel like Gabrielle in that music video.
‘How much of that did you hear?’ he asks carefully. Ugh, I hate how he’s trying to manage me right now.
I turn to face him, a heavy sigh leaving my lungs. ‘Enough, Barclay.’
I don’t know if I’m more disappointed in myself for giving him the benefit of the doubt.
‘Listen,’ he starts, fidgeting with his coat button.
‘No,’ I interrupt. I’m sick of this shit. ‘I’m really tired right now, Barclay. I just want to go home to bed.’
I turn to stare out of the window, wishing the driver would get us there quicker.
As soon as we’re home, I jump out, leaving him to pay. It’s the very least he can do.
Instead of heading for the main front door I instead go downstairs to the door of my basement flat, the keys already in my hand.
I’m about to shut the door when he runs in and forces himself in past me. If it wasn’t his house, I’d tell him to fuck off.
‘I’m sorry, Ruby, but we’re not going to bed until we talk about this.’ He stares stubbornly at me, his beautiful bastard lips pursed.
I sigh. For fucks sakes. He must want to purge his conscience before bed. Selfish arsehole. I cross my arms over my chest and lean back against the door, ready for his bullshit excuses.
He starts pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. ‘I assume you heard all of that, so I’m guessing you’re pissed because of how he talked about you. I know I laughed when he asked if he could he have a shot at you. Honest to God though, Ruby, I was just about to tell him that you weren’t to be touched by his filthy hands when I saw the barman bringing over the prosecco. I knew instantly it was you.’
‘Of course, you did,’ I scoff. ‘Commoner that I am.’
‘I never said you were common,’ he snaps, his face furious. ‘I would have punched him in the face if he wasn’t the son of one of our board members.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Whatever. That’s not even what really upset me.’ I kick off my heels, already aching to get into my comfy fleece pyjamas.
He frowns at me, staring intently. ‘So, what upset you so much?’
Now that I have to say it out loud, I feel kind of pathetic for having thrown such a tantrum. He doesn’t owe me anything. I’m just staff to him and here I am acting like a child.
‘Come on,’ he encourages; his brown eyes kind. He steps closer to me. ‘Tell me.’
His job is to charm people, I remind myself. H
e’s only being nice because he wants to know. Pure curiosity.
‘It’s stupid,’ I insist, trying to undo the dress myself.
He sighs. The kind of sigh that reminds me what a huge inconvenience I am.
‘Ruby, how am I supposed to apologise when I don’t know what you’re upset over.’
Ugh, men and their rational points. So irritating.
I huff. ‘Fine!’ I shout. ‘It was when you said I was just the nanny.’
He stares back, his forehead pinched.
‘I know I am just the nanny, don’t get me wrong. But it was just the way that you said it. Like it was such an inconsequential job. I love what I do and I’m helping to shape the young minds of the future and I’d hardly call it inconsequential.’
Jesus, Ruby. A bit of prosecco and I’m rant city.
‘Neither would I,’ he agrees, his voice serious, eyeing me intensely. ‘In fact, I’d say it’s the most important job in the world to me.’
Well, I definitely didn’t expect him to say that.
‘You’re looking after my children. The most precious things in my life. Please don’t think that I’d just allow any old idiot to do the job. I went through your resume. I called your references. They all spoke so highly of you.’
‘Really?’ I just assumed that Mrs Dumfy handled all of that.
He nods, stepping forward again, this time to tuck a stray bit of hair behind my ear. It makes me shiver, goose bumps appearing up and down my arms.
‘You are so much more than just a nanny.’
He looks at me, his eyes having now taken on a more devilish glint. It’s as if I’m an edible dessert he has every intention of resisting but wants nothing more than to eat all up. Where has this come from? I have no idea. Maybe he’s drunk.
I can’t help but gaze into those longing brown eyes, my chest panting in anticipation. I want nothing more right now than for him to kiss me. But I know he won’t.
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