Real Italian Charm: A BWWM Billionaire Romance

by Lacey Legend

  Having boosted sales by 30% in the States by executing a few clever marketing plans, Tabitha had been head-hunted from the New York branch of Hastings-Bass to take over marketing. It appeared that while she was good on paper the impact of her introduction wasn’t a favorable one.

  Over the course of the first week she discovered that change was not a welcome concept by the grey haired brigade on the board of directors. She was going to have her work cut out implementing her ideas in a bid to boost the profile of the fashion label, and increase sales. Confident she’d be able to work the same magic in the UK as she had in the US, Tabitha gave herself a mental pep talk. Raising her chin determinedly to shake off her shyness, she was convinced she’d be able to stand her ground against any objections raised in relation to the initiatives she planned to adopt.

  “Excuse me,” came a quiet voice beside her.

  Plastering a huge beam on her face, Tabitha turned to see which brave Brit had summoned the courage to venture over and talk to her. When she saw it was Yvonne, the young PA she’d been assigned, the fake smile reached her eyes in genuine welcome of the girl.

  “Would you like me to introduce you to anyone?” bleated Yvonne.

  “I’m not sure anyone would care to be introduced to me,” replied Tabitha drily.

  She studied the young girl who was all of eighteen. Yvonne was the epitome of an ‘English Rose’. Barely five foot two, with a petite figure, peaches and cream complexion, blue eyes and blonde hair, Tabitha felt positively Amazonian by comparison. There was such warmth in the girl’s eyes, Tabitha knew instinctively that her new PA was genuine in her friendliness. Yvonne may turn out to be her only ally. Pushing her away because of her thunderously bad mood seemed mean and unfair.

  “Don’t mind me,” said Tabitha quickly. “I’m in a mood and probably awful company. If you inflict me on any of your friends, I suspect your social status will be severely impaired.”

  Yvonne studied a spot on the carpet, unsure of how to respond. Tabitha was the most glamorous woman she’d ever laid eyes on. At five foot seven, her senior was slim and toned with curves in all the right places. Her hourglass figure was the envy of all the women in the company and probably caused lusty thoughts in all the men. Her makeup was so subtle it was barely noticeable. She looked chic in an ivory skirt suit which accentuated the chocolate tone of her skin. Her long legs were extra shapely thanks to the four inch heels.

  “She’s got swagger,” thought Yvonne dreamily.

  Pushing the hero worship for her bubbly and exciting new boss aside, Yvonne remembered her reason for coming over. Tabitha looked strong and self-confident, but Yvonne was sure she’d detected an air of loneliness from the striking-looking woman.

  “My social status is so low I don’t think it can be hindered any further,” admitted Yvonne.

  Tabitha laughed out loud at the PA’s brazen honesty.

  “That makes two of us,” she thought.

  Tabitha refrained from sharing her empathy in regard to a distinct lack of popularity in the office. It was unprofessional to gossip with a PA even though she guessed Yvonne could be trusted implicitly.

  “I’ve been there and I promise you it improves. The longer you stay, the more opportunities you have to prove yourself,” assured Tabitha, as much for her own sake as Yvonne’s.

  “Mr. Warburton didn’t really give me many opportunities. Just fixing his diary and writing letters.”

  “That’s all going to change,” said Tabitha, suddenly feeling protective of the ambitious and hard-working young woman. “I can tell from this week alone, you’re capable of much more than menial tasks. I promise you’ll be working very closely with me.”

  Yvonne’s face lit up at the prospect of a boss actively looking to develop her job satisfaction and skills. She couldn’t think of any other PA or secretary who received hands-on experience in Hastings-Bass.

  “That sounds grand,” cooed Yvonne, feeling less intimidated by Tabitha’s natural beauty and apparent intellect.

  “Are these work functions always this reserved?” inquired Tabitha.

  “They are when the bosses are present. Once we’ve drunk the place dry, we normally head on to a pub or something and that’s when it all gets a bit crazy.”

  Tabitha’s feline shaped eyes lit up.

  “That look is the joy of someone who’s found a suitable excuse to escape a torturous party,” ventured Yvonne.

  “You’re far too perspicacious for your own good,” grinned Tabitha. “Don’t worry. As one of the stuffy bosses who might inhibit your good time, I promise I won’t tag along to the pub. I do, however, think I might make my move sooner rather than later.”

  Yvonne nodded, feeling the start of a connection developing between her and Tabitha.

  “You’d be welcome to join us, but I guess it’s been a big week for you, so peace and quiet might be more preferable to our rowdy antics. Will I see you on Monday?”

  Tabitha nodded.

  “Of course. They won’t get rid of me that easily.”

  She watched Yvonne drift back to her circle of friends. Lowering her gaze, she could see the bubbles of her champagne had dissipated. Downing the liquid, she wove her way through the crowd to the table running against the back wall to retrieve a fresh glass of Dom Perignon.

  Without even turning to see the cause of commotion, Tabitha sensed a change in the ambiance of the room. Taking a sip of the sparkling champagne, she rotated to see an almost heavenly creature framing the doorway of the boardroom.

  He was six foot three and had a slim build. His dark blonde hair was conservatively cut in a short back and sides, but the length on top showed the natural wave in his hair. His stormy blue eyes took in the scene unfolding in front of him. The navy blue suit adorning his toned body emphasized his broad shoulders and tapered waist. That he was wearing Hastings-Bass impressed Tabitha no end. The man clearly appreciated the brand he worked for.

  “Or is he a model?” wondered Tabitha.

  The strong jaw line, chiseled bone structure, and Roman nose were all in keeping with the beauty of a catwalk fashion model. There was something unsettling about the angel-like man casting a cautious eye on the eighty or so people milling in the room. He looked strong and confident, but made no effort to greet anyone; nor did anyone approach him.

  Tabitha eyes skimmed the room. She noted the women had broken into little groups and were chatting animatedly, throwing furtive looks toward the heartthrob in the doorway. They obviously all knew who he was and obviously all knew better than to engage him in conversation. Tabitha was on the verge of writing him off as an arrogant poser trying to pose as enigmatic, when she acknowledged she had pretty much spent the entire evening mirroring his behavior. After all, she’d spent her time people watching and avoiding the company of others.

  Their eyes met. Tabitha’s heart raced in her chest. He had breath-stopping good looks.

  “Oh my, I would love to be working alongside him,” she thought. “I could definitely get used to that eye candy being a permanent fixture in the office to take my mind off the golden oldies.”

  His eyes seemed to squint at her from the opposite side of the sizable room.

  “I think he’s checking me out,” her mind speculated. “He’s actually staring at me - not exactly what you’d call discrete. I suppose he’s used to snapping his fingers to have women running over to tend to his whims. I wonder if he snapped his fingers at me if I’d go running over. I hope I wouldn’t. I probably would, really- he’s so darn dashing. Snap your fingers at me, sexy man, and let’s see what transpires.”

  She kept her eyes wide to hold his gaze as she calculated the probabilities of him actually approaching her. Her stomach was doing flip flops and she suddenly felt girlish and shy. Shaking her cascading dark hair with chunky caramel streaks, she contemplated giving him a wink. As she mulled over the repercussions of indulging in a little flirtatious behavior, she observed the office angel spinning on his heel and departing. />
  She couldn’t mask her disappointment and pulled a face.

  “Why spend all that time staring at me and then walk off? If he thinks playing hard to get is alluring he’s in for a rude shock,” she thought.

  Pouting, she flipped her head back and caught sight of a clock on the wall directly above her. He hadn’t been checking her out at all. Clearly his vision wasn’t as perfect as his body and he’d been trying to see what time it was. Feeling suitably foolish, Tabitha decided it was time to leave the party.

  *

  Tabitha stepped out of the office to find a cool autumn wind blowing on her face. While the furniture and fittings on the inside were similar to offices around the world, she couldn’t help but be charmed by the refurbished Georgian Townhouse. Dating back to the late 1700s, the building adhered to a strict symmetry that could have made the exterior look like a long, tall, bland, brick building. However, the pillars and arched doorway made for a very pretty exterior.

  Locating the grand Langham hotel half a block away, Tabitha made her way toward it. It was the one landmark she knew that would take her onto the street that led to her subway station.

  “Tube station,” Tabitha corrected herself. “The London underground system is known as the tube.”

  Passing the impressive five-star hotel – the first of its kind to be built in London – and nodding to the bellboys, Tabitha began making her way down Regent Street toward Oxford Circus. She took her time to scan the High Street fashion shops humming with customers. By the time she reached Oxford Circus tube station, Tabitha found herself outside the flagship Top Shop store. There was a throng inside which deterred her from entering. Hastings-Bass may never fill a five-story retail property, but they could certainly benefit from the pedestrian traffic Top Shop generated. The challenge she was faced with was convincing the London branch that High Street shops offered great opportunities for increasing the demographic of the Hastings-Bass market.

  Hastings-Bass was on lower Regent Street with the other fashion designer shops. They sold exclusive clothes to a small number of people, which was why very few people had heard of the label.

  Trying to put work aside for the coming weekend, Tabitha scuttled down the steps to the underground, grabbing a free paper as she went through the gates. She’d picked a good time to travel. It was 8 pm. The rush hour had died out and people out partying on a Friday night wouldn’t be using the tube until at least 11 pm.

  The tube arrived promptly and Tabitha was relieved to find a seat in the half empty car. Sitting primly and opening the paper to scan through it to pass the ten minute journey home, Tabitha felt certain she was being closely observed. Raising her head from behind the paper she was using to avoid eye contact with fellow passengers, a tall, blonde haired man in a navy suit caught her eye. Sitting opposite her five seats down, was the angel from work. As her eyes met his, he held her gaze.

  “He’s probably checking out the map above my head to find out how many stops he’s got left,” she thought, taking into account her earlier mistake.

  The left hand side of his mouth raised in a half smile. Tabitha stopped herself from looking to either side to see if the smile was directed toward someone else. Impulsively she grinned back. The man buried his head in the Financial Times in response. Tabitha was beginning to think the good looking, suited and booted man was strange; perhaps even a little creepy.

  The five stops seemed to take forever. She forced herself to read the paper and not take a peek at the stranger from work. When Notting Hill Gate was finally announced, she sped off the carriage not even bothering to mind the gap.

  Feeling perturbed by the queer end to her week, the one issue on Tabitha’s mind was getting back to her flat. Rather than stand still, she strode up the escalator in her heels, determined to get home as quickly as possible. Flashing her prepaid travel card and walking through the gates, she wrinkled her nose at the sight of steady rain.

  “You have got to be kidding. It was clear skies less than quarter of an hour ago,” she fumed inwardly.

  Tabitha resigned herself to the fact that the one thing stable thing in London was that a person could experience four seasons in a day. Accepting this fact, she understood that she was going to have to tough out the rain if she was ever going to get cozy for the night.

  The clouds made the sky darker, but already familiar with the walk home, Tabitha’s main concern was that the fifteen-minute walk in the rain would spoil her ivory suit. She’d only just had it dried cleaned. Tabitha knew exactly what she was going to be doing before work on Monday. Sighing despondently, she made her journey.

  While the shops were closed, the restaurants and fast food joints were buzzing with life. Notting Hill was not only expensive, but also considered very hip. Tabitha loved being close to the live music clubs and nightclubs, and often wished she had a set of friends she could enjoy the nightlife of Notting Hill with.

  Turning onto a residential street, she walked confidently nearing her home. The poor lighting had never bothered Tabitha previously, but she could hear footsteps quickening behind her. The fact they were racing toward her stirred panic within. She began picking up pace and powered on. Approaching Pembridge Gardens, Tabitha was sick to her stomach. She didn’t dare risk a shortcut through because it would make her even more vulnerable, but by taking the long way around it she was extending the duration of the walk. The footsteps became heavier and she knew whoever was behind her was getting closer, for a fraction of a second it went through her mind that she should kick off her heels and just run home.

  Weighing up the options of sprinting to her flat or losing a pair of Jimmy Choos and risking a foot injury on the bare pavements, she kept her focus on the nearest streetlights.

  “Do you always walk so fast?” asked a deep, baritone.

  Tabitha felt a scream rising in her throat, but managed to swallow it before it could escape her lips. The voice was actually quite friendly. Taking a chance she spun around, only to see her office angel.

  “Are you crazy?” she snapped. “You scared the life out of me!”

  “Imagine if I had been a stalker,” replied the man, grinning.

  “What is it with you?” she barked.

  The blue eyes flickered and appeared to be hurt. Unable to say why, Tabitha felt bad for her tone of voice.

  “What is it with you?” he hissed as aggressively. “It’s Friday night and you think it’s a good idea to walk home alone in this part of town.”

  “This is a nice part of town,” protested Tabitha.

  “This is a nice part of town that has a massive social scene. People that are drunk or high aren’t always so nice, unfortunately. When you walk home alone at this hour you risk running into some not so nice people in a nice area.”

  “The only unpleasant person I’ve met here so far is you.”

  The man laughed. Tabitha liked the sound of the gentle rumble and was secretly pleased she’d made him smile. She feigned indignation at him not being insulted by her remark.

  “I don’t mean to be unpleasant. I meant to make sure you got home okay,” explained the man, stepping closer to Tabitha to shelter her with his umbrella.

  She wanted to step away to make a point, but she was grateful not to have rain ruining her makeup.

  “He smells lush,” she thought.

  “Did you follow me from work?” she inquired

  He seemed amused by the question.

  “No, but it looked at the party as though you’d have been happy if I did.”

  Tabitha was glad he couldn’t see her blush.

  “What then? You saw me on the train and decided to follow me?”

  “Wrong again. I did see you on the train. Turns out you live in the same neighborhood as me. You didn’t have an umbrella and I was going to lend you mine, but you bolted. And yes, I was concerned to see you rushing off down a poorly lit street round here at this hour.”

  Secretly Tabitha was thrilled by his honorable antics, but there was no
need for him to know that.

  “That’s totally weird, following someone you don’t know. It’s the actions I’d expect from a stalker.”

  “Or a gentleman.”

  “A gentleman would reveal his name,” pressed Tabitha.

  The man assessed her with a smile. Tabitha felt as if he were undressing her with his eyes. She felt flattered, but uncomfortable; worried she’d disappoint him.

  “Freddie,” he said eventually.

  “Freddie?”

  In Tabitha’s mind it was a young name for someone so sophisticated.

  “Frederick, but my friends call me Freddie.”

  “And your employees?”

  “Sir,” he chuckled.

  “Gosh, you’re arrogant.”

  “I’m joking. Colleagues can call me Freddie or Frederick or whatever. I’m not that bothered.”

  “Seems so. You certainly couldn’t be bothered to put time in at the office party tonight.”

  Freddie sighed exaggeratedly. Tabitha realized she probably wasn’t the first person to complain about his reluctance to be involved at social gatherings.

  “Do you want me to shove off, or can I escort you home and sleep easier, knowing that you got in safely?”

  “You can walk me if you want to talk as we walk,” invited Tabitha.

  “It’s a deal.”

  He moved in close to Tabitha to share the umbrella

  “What do you do for Hastings-Bass?” probed Tabitha.

  “I’m the Financial Director.”

  “Oh,” Tabitha was stunned someone barely thirty had such a responsible role. “How come I haven’t seen you in New York?”

  “Because I’m not needed there. You’ve seen the Sales Director and Distribution Director, I imagine.”

  Tabitha recalled her liaisons with the directors visiting New York on occasion and realized he was right.