Mr. Dirty (London Billionaire Book 3)

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Mr. Dirty (London Billionaire Book 3) Page 15

by Nana Malone


  28

  Sophie

  Four weeks without Nathan.

  She missed him. That was the worst part. But the good news was that work kept Sophie busy. Between her night gig which had her out to all hours (she also had her day gig), so that usually meant sleeping for about five hours, waking up and then heading to the nonprofit. No doubt, she preferred the work she did in the daytime. But the work at night kept her going which was fine, because now that she had something that was fulfilling her soul, she didn't mind so much when someone complained about the quality of champagne. She found them amusing.

  The one that struck a difference was that she avoided Nathan at all cost. She managed to not see him. Not once in the last two weeks. Maybe he traveled, fucked off to Ibiza or somewhere. Not like it was any of her business or that she cared.

  Yes, you do. You miss him. Okay, so fine. She missed him. No skin off her teeth though, except she missed the sex. God, did she miss the sex.

  But she wasn't made to have casual sex. So, while both jobs kept her very busy, she resigned herself to the no boyfriend zone. She just tucked away all the skills that Nathan had taught her because she'd use them some other time when things calmed down.

  Uh huh, you mean when you finally get over him?

  There was no use arguing with herself. After all, she already knew the truth. She'd gone ahead and fallen in love like a moron. How was she supposed to know that he was secretly really sweet? Except he was also a total player and a womanizer.

  No matter how many times she tried to replay that night in her head, all she saw was that woman all over him and him not stopping her. And it hurt. It broke something inside of her every single time. Even when part of her brain tried to offer up explanations: he didn't have his hands on her; he was leaning away from her; she was still sitting on him. And he still hadn't shoved her off of him. So that meant he liked it, right? Or it was easy and available and right there, right? And you and he were supposed to be casual. Right?

  Yes, okay, so she'd broken the rules. Not that he had exactly. He'd been casual. She'd been the one who broke the rule—the one rule between them, not to get attached.

  It was okay though. Who needed a gorgeous sex god in her life? Certainly not her. She was done with men for a while. The gifts started in week three. Not at her doorstep but at her day job. A movie here, popcorn there. Even chocolate chip cookies. Not the hard kind that her mother had always bought but the homemade kind, as if they'd been baked by some master granny from America. At first, she was going to send the gifts back, but she couldn't bring herself to. Besides, who gave back chocolate? He’d even sent her favorite flowers, lilies. No note. Just presents.

  The next week, she couldn't help but see him everywhere. She'd gone through this blissful or awful, depending on how you looked about it—time of never seeing him. No matter how much she looked for him she didn't see him anywhere. That's why she had been so convinced he'd moved out. Skulked out in the middle of the night or something.

  But now, every morning she left her flat, it didn't matter what time she left, or what time she came home, she would surely run into him. It was as if he had a secret alarm system to tell him every time she opened her door. Every time she was coming up the stairs, he knew. And sure enough, she'd run into him in the hallway. He'd say good morning and she'd ignore him. But it was difficult to ignore him because well, she remembered what he looked like naked. Those blue, stormy eyes always piercing into her. It wasn't cocky or smug like usual; he was polite. If she didn't know better she'd say that he was a perfectly nice, normal neighbor, but he was everywhere. When she came home at night, when she woke up in the morning she saw him.

  Every single event she had in the evening, sure enough he'd be in attendance. It was not like she didn't know he was supposed to be in attendance. He'd be on the guest list, but somehow, she'd always be surprised when he showed up. He wouldn't stay long. Just long enough so she'd be aware that he'd been there. It was like he was deliberately trying to torture her.

  Oh, and the gifts kept coming. Books she'd mentioned she wanted to read; more movies; sometimes cartoons or sketches or cards (never signed), always intended to make her laugh or smile. Just like a billionaire playboy who thought he could buy her affection. But honestly, though, the gifts he was sending, they were personal. They weren't lavish. One was a Garfield cartoon strip that he'd cut out of the paper, because she'd mentioned once that she'd fallen in love with Garfield after reading the comic in an American newspaper when she was little.

  And then, the next week, he brought her coffee in the morning, just how she liked it: black with lots of sugar. She'd open the door in the morning, and he would be there with coffee. She was so surprised the first time she had stumbled back. "Oh my God."

  He’d just given her a gentle smile. "I'm not here to bother you. I just brought you coffee." As you did. As if he'd been doing that every day for their entire relationship, or not relationship. Whatever.

  And it happened again the next day, and the next. It had been like that for another week. In addition to gifts turning up where she worked, it was like he was slowly applying pressure. How in the world was she supposed to stay mad at him and avoid him? It was extremely difficult. Even she wasn't that stubborn.

  The following week, she was determined to avoid him. But he wasn't there for coffee. Thank God.

  Even Gemma had started to laugh. "You say you don't want him and that you're annoyed, but now you're mad when he doesn't show up for coffee?"

  "But it's like he's tempting me. Showing me what it could be like. And then he vanishes."

  Her best friend found it endlessly entertaining. Gemma didn't understand. She thought it was sweet.

  That evening, he was waiting for her after work. "Listen,” she said, “I am exhausted and I don't know what kind of mind fuck you have going on, but I can't fight with you right now."

  Instead of a smug smirk, he looked genuinely concerned. "You've been working a lot."

  She sighed. "Yes, I have. I still have my regular job, and I took on some nonprofit work."

  He frowned. "Are they paying you?"

  She shook her head. "I took it because I wanted to. It was just like I always talked about."

  Then the grin broke out. "Oh, Sophie, I'm chuffed. That's amazing. It’s exactly what you wanted. You’ll be brilliant."

  She nodded. "Yes, brilliant, but first I need sleep, so if you don't have a reason you're leaning against my doorway, I'd rather get to bed please."

  "Actually, yes, there is a reason I'm leaning against your doorway. I'd like to ask you to dinner."

  She frowned. "Why?"

  "Well, for starters, I figured we should talk."

  She shook her head. "There's not much to talk about. We had an arrangement. I clearly broke it and got emotionally attached. Now you don't want to see me anymore. Except, I don't know what you're doing with the gifts and the things and all of that."

  He cleared his throat. "I don't want it to be over."

  "But you said casual. I clearly wanted to take it further and then that woman—"

  He shook his head. "Come to dinner with me. I'll explain."

  "You know I can't—I just—I'm tired. I need to sleep."

  He nodded. "Fair enough."

  The next morning, she didn't see him. Again, there was no coffee. He was such a tease.

  Luckily, she didn't have to work an event that night, so she went to her one job and went home. But, there he was again. "Oh my God. What now?"

  He just smiled. "I'm here to ask you out to dinner."

  "I swear to God, you are the most infuriating human being I have ever met. We don't have anything left to say to each other."

  He nodded. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Soph."

  Exasperation tumbled out of her in a laugh. "Oh my God, why are you doing this? It's like you're torturing me, or trying to drive me completely mad."

  "Neither of those. I just know that you don't believe this. You don't t
hink we could be great. And so, I need to show you. I need to prove it to you, so that's what I'm doing until you realize that I'm serious."

  "Serious about what? We had a casual thing. I blew it out of proportion."

  He leaned in close to her and she held her breath. Oh God, he smelled so good. Immediately her body softened and ripened. Her nipples grew tight.

  Traitors.

  Her core contracted and she tried not to inhale any further, because God, it might be entirely possible to orgasm from his smell alone. "What are you trying to say?"

  "I'm trying to tell you that it was more than casual for me too. That last time it was different. I could feel myself falling. I knew what was happening. But I know I can't just tell you. I need to show you. So, have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

  Sophie threw up her arms. "Oh my God, if I go to dinner with you, will you stop?"

  He shook his head. "No. If you go to dinner with me, you won't want me to stop."

  29

  Sophie

  Sophie’s feet hurt. As a matter of fact, everything hurt. But God, she felt good. And she was going to reward herself with a cookie. Today’s hard work had paid off. She’d been right. Charity fund raising stuff was far more rewarding. It didn’t necessarily pay the bills, but even if she was exhausted at the end of the day, she felt amazing.

  She was enjoying the rare springtime, London sunshine when she popped into the bakery around the corner from her flat. James, the bloke who worked behind the counter at the bakery smiled at her when he saw her. “Oh, you’ve got a smile on your face. Good news?”

  Sophie grinned. “Yeah, it was a good day. I will take three of the ginger biscuits and two of the American style chocolate chip cookies please.”

  “Coming right up.”

  She tried not to fiddle with the hem of her jumper as she waited. Just as he handed her the bag of goodies, and she paid him with her stripe card, something caught her eye. She looked up and frowned as she looked down the street.

  No. It can’t be. Your mind is just playing tricks on you. It’s not him.

  Lately, him, had been Nathan. Every waking thought had been consumed with him. But after a couple of weeks the pain wasn’t as acute now. More of a dull throbbing. Luckily, with work, she could think about something else. She could focus on something else. And now this? She couldn’t take one more life disruption right now.

  It’s not him, relax.

  She threw a few coins into the tip jar for James and then dashed out of the bakery. The throng of people only increased the closer she got to Piccadilly Circus, but finally, the man up ahead of her made a right and she caught up to him. The closer she got, her skin hummed and she knew she was right. It’s him. “Dad?”

  The man with his tall frame and dark hair inclined his head as he turned. His eyes went wide when he recognized her. “Sophie, sweetheart. Imagine running into you on the street.”

  She frowned. “Yeah, well, it happens.” Just not with him.

  He lumbered over to her and awkwardly bent to give her a hug. “You look well, darling. All right then? You know, I was going to call you. I just have been busy. I just got to town and –“

  She’d long gotten used to his excuses. The reasons he wasn’t around and why he couldn’t be bothered to call her, or send her a birthday card, or any of those things. But seeing him in her city in the flesh as if it was perfectly normal, that was just taking the piss. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

  “Well, I’m just meeting a mate ‘round the corner.”

  She blinked up at him. “A mate? Like, you’re just popping ‘round for tea with a mate? Dad, you lived in Dover. You can’t even call your only daughter when you come to town?”

  “Oh Soph, don’t be like that. I honestly wasn’t thinking about it. It was a last minute thing.”

  A blonde woman came around the corner and smiled as she approached them. “Richard, there you are. You’re late as usual. Did you forget what time we were meeting?” She turned her gaze to Sophie and then eyed her up and down, as if assessing her at fret level. “And who do we have here?”

  Sophie shot her father a glance. “Hi, I’m Sophie. I’m the daughter.”

  The woman stared at him for a moment. “Richard, this is your daughter? You said she traveled and wouldn’t be available.”

  Her father shifted uncomfortably. “Shit, the thing is, Michelle, Sophie haven’t seen each other for a while, so I didn’t want to spring a new relationship on her. And Sophie, of course, I was going to call you and introduce you to my –“

  Sophie shook her head and put her hand out. “Girlfriend.”

  Michelle, her father’s new girlfriend could easily have been her older sister. That was beside the point. The point was, her own father hadn’t reached out when he was in her city. “Like I said, it’s nice to see you. Nice to meet you. I have to go dad. I’ve had a long day,” she said, feeling suddenly deflated.

  “Oh come on Soph, don’t be like that. I’m sorry. It’s just, I wanted a little alone time with Michelle before I gave you a call.”

  Yeah, that didn’t seem to go well with Michelle either. “Dad, I’m your daughter. You can’t even call me? You know what, forget it. It’s fine. Michelle, you seem very nice. You seem lovely. Dad, I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not. The truth is, you’ve never been that father who would call and tell me, 'Hey, love, I’m here in your city. Let’s have coffee, or tea, or hell, let me stay with you.' I know who you are. To be fair, yeah, I’m not sure why I’m surprised.”

  His brow furrowed. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

  Sophie set her lips into a firm line. “All I know is that you’re my Dad. It would have been nice to know you were here.” Sophie nodded a goodbye to Michelle and turned away from her father heading back toward her flat.

  “Soph, Sophie, wait.”

  She whipped back around. “What? What do you have to say? There’s nothing left to say. This is you. The bloke who’s never around, whether I need you or not, you’re just not really present. In and out with pretty young things, I see you’re still doing that.”

  “So I like to be sociable and date. And I’m very busy for work.”

  “Yes, you’re a very talented musician. I’m glad you get to play all over the place, but you know what, growing up, it would have been nice to have my Dad be there for me. And as an adult, it would have been nice to know my father was in town. But right now, I’m tired and I need to go back to my flat."

  “Look, maybe we can have –“

  She shook her head. “No, because I’ll just be so disappointed when you don’t turn up. And honestly, after years of these kinds of disappointments, I can’t take it. I love you, Dad. Have fun with Michelle. She seems nice.”

  “Sophie, you know I love you. I’m just not good at the responsibility part. Having a kid was a lot for me. Your kids count on you. Everyone counts on you. I’m not really good at it. And I know I let you down a lot.”

  “Let me down? That’s an understatement. Do you realize that I can’t even have a normal relationship because of you? I’m just not capable of it. I date all these guys that look right on paper, like they would be great fathers, or providers, or that sort of thing. And I avoid dating them like you. The thing is, the man I fell in love with is exactly someone like you. Not emotionally available, not really around, popular with the women. God, was doomed to repeat history.”

  He frowned. “Sophie, love, listen. My mistakes, my problems, they’re not yours. I messed up as a father. I messed up now. I wanted to call you. I knew the right thing to do. I knew the thing that I wanted to do, but I made the excuses because I know it would be hard. That this conversation would be hard. So, I avoided it. But that’s me. You said you’ve fallen in love with a bloke. Is he nice?”

  She shrugged. “It turns out he’s not that nice, a little too much like my Dad.”

  He winced and she immediately regretted her words. “I suppose I deserved that.” He
shifted on his feet. “Listen, I know I’m doing this the wrong way, but tonight Michelle has to work, and I’ve got another two nights before I head back to Dover. I would like to see my daughter if she would let me. Please.”

  She considered this for a moment, letting his words sink in. “Yeah, I’d like to Dad, but honestly, I’m not entirely sure you’d show.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. The old me wouldn’t, but I want you to know that people are capable of change. Michelle and I, we’ve been doing this thing back and forth, and I like her. And I’ve been putting in the effort. I think you two would get along. I’d like to start getting on the right road with you. I'd really like it.”

  She nodded resolutely. “I’d like that too. Okay, tomorrow night then?”

  He grinned. “Good. I’ll ring your mobile. And Soph?”

  She paused before turning, “Yeah, Dad.”

  “The young man – the one that’s maybe too much like me, does he love you back?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought he did.”

  “He messed up then?”

  “You know, I don’t really even know. I thought I saw something… I don’t know. The point is, I got too attached.”

  “You know what, Sophie darling? Sometimes attachment is good. It can make sure that you come back to where you’re supposed to be all along.”

  As she watched her father… the man who had been in and out of her life, more out than in, he did seem different. Calmer, somehow… maybe Michelle was responsible for it. Either way, she had a date with her father for the first time in nearly a decade.

  Sophie

  As it turned out, Nathan might have been right about dinner. In the end, she agreed because she knew that she would just keep finding him on her doorstep until she finally said yes. But, also, a tiny part of her missed him. As always, Nathan was charming and fun. He talked to her about the work that he'd started doing. The projects he was investing in. And he asked her endless questions about her job—so many that she was even tired of answering them. Finally, they got around to the part of the conversation that she'd been dreading most of the night.

 

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