Page 28 of Arrogant Heir
‘Well, in that case, you’d better be grateful you didn’t get your way, because if that’s true, it would be a dull book. If we’re to give you an image makeover, we need the book to fly off the shelves.’
We resume our session, and I ask lots of questions about the chain of department stores.
Damian says, ‘I’m no longer involved in the day-to-day running of that side of things. They are so established that in some ways, they run themselves. There’s a brilliant team behind the scenes. Grandfather mentored the leaders.’
I say, ‘I think it would be helpful for me to visit your flagship store on Bond Street. For the final touches of the manuscript.’
‘It’s actually New Bond Street, although everyone calls it Bond Street. Ironic really because it was established in the eighteenth century.’
‘I didn’t know that. That’s a colourful fact for the book. Thanks,’ I say, and make a quick note.
He gives me the eyebrow again. ‘Have you not been to our store?’ He says it as though I’ve just admitted I’ve never left the country.
I shake my head. ‘My mum says she took me when I was little, but honestly, I don’t remember.’
‘We’ll have to remedy that. Would it be helpful if I gave you a tour?’
I gulp, and my heart gallops. ‘That would be fantastic. We could do an interview piece. Even though you’re the head of media, most people still associate the Rochester name with the department stores.’
‘I’ll arrange it,’ he says, enigmatically. My heart keeps speeding erratically and I can’t think clearly.
‘Brilliant,’ I manage to say. ‘I can stay at my London flat and meet you there. Just let me know when suits you.’
‘No need for that. Leave it to me. We’re on a deadline, so we’ll go from here. I’ll send you the details later.’
Excitement rushes through me, but I do my best to conceal it. He’s big-headed enough, without me letting him think I’m dizzy at the thought of a day out with him, even if it’s just on business.
He asks if there are any days I can’t do, and I say I’m free to work on the book whenever suits him. ‘We have a fast-approaching deadline, so your book is my priority.’
I don’t mention I spend my evenings writing about an enigmatic, broad-shouldered hero who I’m falling more in love with in each chapter.
Later that evening, I’m pounding my keyboard after a light supper made from the remnants of the hamper when my phone pings with a message from him. I know without looking because I’ve assigned him his own sound. He texts me a lot about the manuscript, and I want to know when I get a personal text.That’s my story, anyway.
It says:Jackson. Let’s do London tomorrow. Be at the front of the house at 8 a.m.
I text back:Yes, sir!
Then I ping him a smiley face and push my phone out of reach before I type something I regret. So, he’s been flirting with me here and there. I mustn’t read anything into it. The whole point of his grandfather hiring me is to counteract the damage done by the fact that he is a massive flirt. Of course, he’s going to get to me too. But I mustn’t let him.
For the first time since Simon called off our wedding, I answer when he phones, and we chat about nothing, like the old days. It’s comfortable, like curling up in a familiar bed with a cosy duvet.
He’s turning on his charm just like he did before things got serious between us and we started talking weddings. I wish I’d followed my gut and not accepted his proposal when I did. We should have waited and kept things as they were. There was nothing wrong with our relationship then, and I’m in no rush to get married.
Looking back, I guess he proposed because most of his banker friends have married recently, and he must have felt like he was falling behind. The investment banking world is still quite old school, and if you want to impress the big boss and be promoted, you get brownie points if you bring a charming wife to company events.
His boss likes me. We hit it off and talked about books at the last dinner I attended. I know he approved of me, and Simon said I ticked all the boxes. Of course, I was flattered, but it made me feel like a pawn on his career chessboard. That’s not how I thought falling in love would be, but I understand how business works and I humoured him. But then he dropped me, anyway.
Looks like he’s ready to step back up, but he didn’t mention marriage again. I’m tempted to let things slide into how they were. Soon I’ll be back in my flat in London, and as much as I like spending time alone when writing, I don’t want to be alone all the time. Shani is still travelling, and my mum’s busy with her own life, which is great.
We say goodnight, and I realise I don’t feel out of my depth like with Damian. But I don’t feel tingly at the sound of his voice, either.
Damian’s face floats into my head when I get into bed. I imagine him still in his office working, or up in his suite reviewing reports. I can’t picture him doing anything but working or talking about work. Thoughts and images of him consume me as I try to fall asleep. If he wasn’t so handsome, it would be much easier. Would I be attracted to him for his personality alone, or am I just crushing on his six-foot Greek-God physique and beautiful face?
No, it’s more than that. Beneath his arrogant exterior, there’s a fire burning. I sense it when he looks at me. But someone or something has wounded his soul, and he does his best to pretend he has no feelings at all.
I’m excited about going to London with him tomorrow. Maybe he’ll let me see more of his hidden side when we’re away from the office.
The thought of being closer to him is getting me worked up. I think of his large hands flicking through the documents on his desk. What would it be like if they were on me? I’m already wet and know I won’t fall asleep like this.