Billionaires in New York Boxed Set: Billionaires in the City Books 1-3

by Laura Burton

  In fact, some of the designers of said clothes were there, Holly noticed. She wondered what it must be like to attend an event and see people wearing clothes that she had designed.

  Holly did not venture too far into the mass of guests; she hovered around the small groups standing close to the kitchen doors instead.

  A plume of expensive perfume flooded her nostrils as she held the tray out for a group of women to take a drink. Within seconds the tray was empty and Holly had not even received a single thank you. In fact, the ladies continued to exchange pleasantries, oblivious to Holly.

  It was no surprise. She had worked at events like this before. The servers wore black to look invisible. She was not there to stand out. And yet, she longed to appear in a Vera Wang, all eyes on her and the hall silent, with the occasional gasp. Whispers of ‘Who is that woman?’ would fly across the room and Thatcher would proudly tell everyone that Holly was his best friend.

  Thatcher stood far off; his back turned. Holly resisted the urge to walk over as her eyes scanned the room, looking for the person who could catapult her career forward; Estelle.

  No one ever mentioned Estelle’s last name. When you’re that famous, a second name seems superfluous.

  Estelle was dazzling. She wore a tightly fitted purple gown that ruffled at the shoulder. She had narrow features, a painfully small waist, and expressive eyes. She stood poised and powerful, ever primed for hidden paparazzi to catch her best angle.

  “What are you doing? Get back in the kitchen and fill up your tray, or so help me, I’ll kick you out.”

  Holly jumped at the angry whisper. The caterer was at her side, staring at her so intensely, it looked like her eyes were going to pop out.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Holly bobbed her head and marched into the kitchen, not daring to look back.

  Working at a mixer was far less glamorous than it looked. Holly was grateful she had opted for flat shoes––even if they did look a bit manly. She stumbled more than a few times. Holly was the clumsiest model in New York. Maybe even the world, she thought. Most of her work was done in a studio, and she never took on catwalk jobs. Just the idea of wearing high stilettos and marching up and down a stage in front of people had her chewing her lip.

  Maybe Thatcher was right. She was comfortable in a studio with him and his team. If Holly wanted to work with more photographers, she’d have to put herself out there and risk public humiliation. Was that what was holding her back? But if Thatcher moved to Paris, Holly would have no other choice. She’d have to sign up to an agency and fight off other models for every gig or give up and get a desk job.

  Holly absent-mindedly loaded up her tray with tall stem glasses filled with champagne. The task became monotonous and Holly’s bottom lip stung from the hour she had spent chewing on it. The image of Martina drenched in milk chocolate was ever present on her mind as she struggled to focus on delivering drinks to fancy guests.

  The night was drawing on, and Holly wondered how much longer she’d have to yo-yo from the kitchen to the hall. The caterer glided around like a bad smell, always hovering close by, her beady eyes on the servers. As if daring them to slow down.

  Holly’s shoulders ached; having spent the whole afternoon tensed up and posing for the camera, and now constantly on the move, carrying empty glasses back to the kitchen and returning with a heavy tray of fresh drinks. Surely, they would get a break soon.

  The second hour passed even slower than the first. And by the time the third hour came along, every muscle in her body burned.

  “How much longer?” she hissed at Josie as they crossed paths. Josie’s fake smile remained in place, but the slight lift of her shoulders said it all.

  The door swung open and as Holly walked through, she craned her neck to scowl at Josie.

  Josie was a machine. She could do this all night without breaking a sweat. Holly on the other hand, was seeing stars and had lost feeling in her fingers.

  “Ouch!”

  The front of Holly’s shoe scuffed the floor and she lost balance. Then, seemingly in slow motion, the tray flew out of her hands and into the air. A shower of glasses rained down on her and smashed into millions of pieces at her feet. Not that she noticed. The force of her fall had sent her flying headfirst into a man’s chest. A grunt followed.

  If this is a dream, now is absolutely the time to wake up.

  But this was not a dream. Holly opened her eyes and stood up to look at the face of the man she had fallen onto.

  All she could see was a mop of dark hair as the man patted his pant legs. He straightened and the clearest blue eyes blinked at her. Holly’s knees grew weak.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said faintly. She glanced at the yellow stains on his crisp white shirt and swallowed nervously.

  “Oh, this?” the man said, gesturing to his spoiled clothes. “Don’t worry about it. This gives me the perfect excuse to get out of here. You’ve done me a favor.” He laughed. Perhaps he thought what he said was funny. But Holly had clearly missed the joke. She stared at him like a deer in headlights.

  “What in the world…? Look at this mess. Do you realize how much those glasses will cost to replace? They were clear cut crystal.”

  The caterer was back. And a group of servers appeared from the kitchen. Holly looked back to see the door to the corridor had swung open and Josie was standing there, frozen, with a look of horror on her face.

  “That is coming out of your salary,” the caterer barked. Holly swivelled her head and stared, open-mouthed and completely unable to speak. Her body had been firing off pain signals all evening, but now she was void of any feeling at all.

  “Forgive me, Daria. It is Daria, right? You’re the caterer?”

  All eyes turned to the mystery gentleman as he smoldered at the caterer. Her frosty nature melted, and she broke into a smile for the first time.

  “Yes. I am. I’m flattered you know my name,” she said, resting her chubby fingers on her collarbone. The gentleman gave a casual smile, his cheeks dimpling.

  “I apologize. You see, I was just making my way into the kitchen to compliment you on the wonderful food tonight, when I knocked this poor woman off her feet.” He pulled out a wad of cash from his jacket pocket and handed it to the caterer, who was now blushing profusely. “I hope this will help. For the trouble.”

  The caterer giggled like a schoolgirl.

  Holly frowned as she watched the odd exchange.

  “I feel awful about this. Do you mind if I go into the kitchen? I’ll need a brush to clear up this glass.” The gentleman sheepishly brushed some of the glass fragments with his shoe, but the caterer shook her head. Her complexion was normal again as she frowned and waved her hands.

  “No, Mr. Harrington. It’s fine. You––” She jabbed a finger in Holly’s direction, sending a bolt of adrenaline coursing through her veins. And just like that, all of the aches and pains of the evening returned. “Clean this up. The rest of you… stop staring and get back to work.”

  The other servers quietly sidled past the mess and returned to work. Holly hesitated. It was as if all her energy had been zapped away and all that was left of her was a hollow, aching shell of a body, totally incapable of doing anything.

  “Perhaps, I could borrow this young woman for a few minutes. If you don’t mind?” The gentleman smiled again as he looked expectantly at the caterer. She gave a curt nod as the corner of her mouth lifted.

  “I’m sorry. How rude of me. My name is William. William Charles,” the man said, turning to Holly with his hand outstretched. Holly took it, feeling dazed as her lungs seemed to forget how to take in air.

  “Holly Barrett,” she managed to say. As William shook her hand, her lungs started to work again, and her heart worked overtime.

  “You don’t happen to know if there’s a spare shirt lying around, do you?” William asked. Holly glanced at the caterer, who was watching their exchange with a strange look on her face. Holly wasn’t sure if the woman was going to scream or b
urst into laughter.

  “There are more uniforms in the store cupboard out back. Go and help him, Holly,” she said, with a hint of warmth in her voice. Holly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The caterer had definitely not known her name until just now. Yet she was purring at her like she had known her all her life.

  But then, Holly couldn’t judge. She had worked with the caterer several times and never knew her name was Daria. Simply thinking of her as the caterer was more fitting.

  Holly realized she had been walking while her mind ran away in thought. William walked beside her, his arms swinging slightly, and he hummed lightly to himself.

  “The cupboard is just––” Holly began, but she stopped as William’s hand settled on her arm. Her eyes flew to it and she wondered whether to make a run for it or start giggling like a schoolgirl too.

  “It’s alright. I just said that to get you away from that awful woman.” William’s low voice and cheeky smirk sent a rush of excitement through Holly. She broke into a laugh.

  “What’s funny?” William asked. This time it was his turn to miss the joke.

  “Awful woman? You were flirting with her just now.”

  William’s dark brows shot up and he stood back.

  “Flirting? You think that was flirting?” he dragged a hand across his jaw and sighed. His reaction was unsettling. Holly swallowed and fiddled with her watch.

  “Don’t think I didn’t notice how she’s been treating all of you,” William said. “I thought you’d be happy for the break.”

  Holly rested her hands on her hips and tilted her head. She was about to retort when she remembered that if it wasn’t for his help, Daria would have handed her a bill and probably had her frogmarched off the premises.

  “Thanks. For what you did.”

  The two of them stared at each other silently for a few moments. Then shared a smile.

  “Well, I’m going to…” William didn’t finish the sentence and hovered on the spot. Holly couldn’t read him. Was he stalling? Should she ask for his number?

  “Yeah. I should get back to work,” she said finally, casting her eyes down.

  “Right.”

  After a brief moment of awkward silence, a phone rang, and William sprang back to life.

  “I need to get this,” he pointed at the phone in his hand. Holly nodded and turned on her heel to walk back to the kitchen.

  “I’m not feeling too good. I’m going home.”

  William’s voice grew quieter as Holly walked away and it took all of her resolve not to look back. She clenched her jaw angrily.

  Thatcher is right. If I don’t put myself out there, I’m going to end up alone.

  She returned to the kitchen, her heart sinking with every step.

  Chapter Four

  “I can’t feel my toes. You’re lucky you didn’t wear heels,” Josie moaned as she rubbed her feet. Holly yawned, it took over her whole body as she stretched and closed her eyes. They hadn’t got back to their apartment until 2am.

  “Lucky? Did you forget I still managed to trip and make a fool of myself?” Holly asked, pouring a drink.

  Josie eyed the steaming mug in Holly’s hand. “Is that a good idea?”

  “You’re right,” Holly said, lowering it to the counter. “I should just go to bed.”

  Her phone pinged as she trudged across the living room.

  “Huh. Interesting,” she said to herself. Josie got up and arched her back, it cracked, and she moaned.

  “That’s better,” she said, walking up to Holly. “What is it? Mr. Charles sending you messages so soon?”

  Heat rose to Holly’s face as she whipped her head up to look at Josie.

  “What?! No! He didn’t even ask for my number,” she blurted. “Why would you think that?”

  Josie pulled off her hairband and her dark wiry hair fell past her narrow shoulders.

  “We were all there, Holly. Everyone could see how he looked at you. Then you both went off alone… Tell me. Is he as good a kisser as he looks?”

  Holly dropped her phone and stared at Josie with disbelief.

  “We didn’t kiss! Nothing happened,” she said. Josie stooped down and retrieved the phone.

  “What’s this?” she asked, a smile taking over her face. “You’re looking at a matchmaking company? Oh Holly. This is desperate. Even for you.”

  Holly snatched the phone back and frowned. Sometimes she wondered if Josie was a real friend. Josie’s British sense of humor had got her into trouble more than a few times.

  Time with Josie had taught Holly that putting people down was a way of showing affection and love amongst friends in England. At least, that was what Josie said.

  “They’ve put out an open-call for models to attend an event tomorrow night.”

  “Right, sure. I’m sure you were just looking at the job opportunity,” she said, nodding along.

  “Why not? Find My Companion is doing a TV series and they want models to... stand in the background? I don’t really know.”

  Josie yawned and rubbed her arm.

  “Sounds perfect. And hey, you might bag yourself a rich boyfriend while you’re there.”

  Holly nudged her friend and the two of them chuckled as they walked down the hall.

  “Well, you’re going to need your beauty sleep,” Josie called out as Holly walked into her room.

  “Goodnight Josie,” she said. Then another mighty yawn took over and Holly collapsed onto her bed. She promptly fell asleep.

  The next day, Holly didn’t rouse from her slumber until almost noon. Her dreams were invaded by William, dressed as a pirate and taking her away on his boat to wonderful adventures. She couldn’t take her mind off him. If only he had asked her out. If only she had struck up the courage to ask him out.

  And maybe she would have, if she was dressed to the nines and hadn’t just shattered several hundred dollars’ worth of glass all over the floor.

  Holly liked to believe in signs. She liked to believe that the universe or some unseen force had a great plan in store, and that she would only need to look for the signs to know what to do next.

  So, when she received an email from Thatcher, saying he was going to be at an event at Find My Companion that night, she knew what she needed to do.

  “Thank you for your call Ms. Barratt. I have received your headshots and I’m pleased to tell you Ms. Stewart would like to hire you for tonight’s event.”

  Holly tried to keep her composure and act cool while the woman went over the particulars on the phone, but her feet had started to do an Irish jig.

  “You got it?” Josie whispered through her hands and then screeched with excitement. “You’re going to be on TV! You have to tell me everything. This is amazing.” She threw her arms around Holly and squeezed so tight Holly couldn’t breathe.

  Josie let go and her face turned serious.

  “Quick. Go take a shower and get ready. I’m taking you shopping.”

  Chapter Five

  Josie redeemed herself and Holly was reminded why she was her best friend. She took Holly to a spa and the two of them had the most relaxing massage Holly had ever experienced. They finished off with a blow dry at Josie’s favorite salon, and then enjoyed English tea in the city. Now ready for the day, Josie took them shopping on Fifth Avenue.

  They returned to the apartment as the sun set, arms full of designer bags. Holly felt lighter than a feather.

  Josie’s parents owned the apartment, which sat right in the center of New York. Her rich dad in England paid off her credit card bill each month, which Josie then used to shower her friends with gifts. Not that Holly was complaining.

  “Look at the time! You need to go,” Josie exclaimed, taking Holly’s bags off her. She leaned forward in the taxi and told the driver the address for Find My Companion.

  “Enjoy every second of tonight,” Josie said. She climbed out of the cab and turned around. “Remember. You look lush. You’ve got nothing to be nervous about.”

&n
bsp; Holly smiled at the word ‘lush’ and waved.

  “Thanks for today. You’re the best.”

  “I know,” Josie said with a flick of her hair. She closed the door and stood on the sidewalk; arms laden with bags as she waved over zealously. The taxi pulled away and Holly grew nauseous.

  “It’s just another job. I’m not going to do anything embarrassing,” she said to herself, trying to steady her breathing. “Besides, Thatcher will be there. What can go wrong?”

  Everything, a small voice in her head whispered.

  Holly stood in a line of beautiful looking young women, waiting to sign in. Another day, another mixer. Only this time, she was wearing a figure-hugging yellow dress, and her long, blonde curls fell to the small of her back. No flat, black shoes. Instead, she wore delicate sandals and carried a bedazzled clutch.

  Holly recognized more than a few of the other models from other jobs. She watched as the group in front of her talked.

  “They’re calling the show ‘Billionaire Bachelors’ and I heard they’re going to choose one of us to be paired with a billionaire.”

  “How exciting,” one of the women squealed.

  She moved aside, and Holly stepped up to the desk, where a petite woman wearing a dark suit and horn-rimmed glasses gave her the once-over before looking down at a clipboard in her hand.

  “Name?” she said dully.

  “Holly Barratt.”

  The woman scribbled on the clipboard and pointed in the direction of the other woman.

  “Go wait there for someone to collect you––Next!” The woman barked the last word, and her voice rang like the bells of Notre Dame inside Holly’s ear drums. She recovered, cradled her clutch, and stood beside a ficus plant, keeping a distance from everyone else.

  There was a buzz of excitement in the air as the entry hall filled with models. Not a male was in sight. Holly craned her neck searching the sea of faces for Thatcher, but he was nowhere to be seen either.