Page 31 of Arrogant Heir
His lips twitch.
‘When I said you need to have more fun, I didn’t mean laughing at my expense,’ I snap, not knowing how or when to stop. I’m really cross now and am in danger of exploding. He knows just how to get under my skin, and this reminds me of the horror of the first day we met. What’s worse this time is he’s silent, as if he doesn’t even need to bother saying anything. It’s as if he thinks I’ve made a fool of myself all on my own.
‘Jackson. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick again. I’m only laughing because you’re being weird about it, not because you’re writing a romance novel. My mother reads romance novels. Who am I to judge?’ he says. His voice is as smooth as a fine whisky, and I shiver. I feel silly now.
‘I’m sorry if it seemed like I was laughing at your writing,’ he says, his eyes sincere as they search mine.
There’s an electric current between us, and I long to reach out and touch his face. I wish he would touch me. Our heads are so close that our lips could brush in a heartbeat. My heart hammers as his eyes stay locked on mine, and suddenly I don’t think I am imagining this attraction between us.
John turns and says in a quiet voice, ‘We’ve arrived, Mr Rochester.’
The car pulls up outside the store in New Bond Street, and the spell is broken. Never before have I wished for a car journey to be endless.
CHAPTER21
Jamie
We enter the flagship store and, for the first time in my life; I get a sense of what it must be like to be famous. The store manager rushes to greet us and it’s as though a rock star has entered the building. We stroll through the ground floor, and I see the staff staring at and clamouring to get near Damian. Some of them try not to be obvious, while others’ mouths drop open, and they blatantly stalk us. There’s an excited buzz like the noise from a beehive, and I catch a waft of expensive perfume as I float past the luxury brand counters in the beauty department.
A salesperson offers me a spritz of a new perfume on a sample strip. ‘Thank you,’ I say, not wanting to make her feel awkward in front of the big boss.
The manager leads us on a tour of the ground floor, and soon the aroma of baked bread tickles my nose. I was too nervous to eat breakfast, and now I’m ravenous.
Damian whispers in my ear about ten minutes later. ‘You hungry, Jackson?’
He’s taken to calling me Jackson and I can’t decide whether it’s his way of pretending I’m a man, or it’s a term of endearment.
‘Starving,’ I reply. ‘And you, Rochester?’
‘We can’t work on an empty stomach,’ he says, smirking at my cheeky quip.
‘I quite agree,’ I reply, warming to this playful version of Damian I haven’t met before.
He’s like a conquering king striding through the store and his charisma surrounds him like a glittering crown. I hadn’t realised how good he is with people. I’ve only seen him being reclusive at Greystone. But he’s different here and I like it. I don’t know if it’s an artificial side to him or the real him emerging from his cocoon. Either way, he plays the role of the grand heir with ease and grace, and now I see why all those women fell for him. Sure, his looks are swoon-worthy with his handsome features, muscular frame, and imposing height, but it’s not just that.
Anybody can be good looking. That’s just the looks-lottery that some people win without having to work for it. But this is something else, which in my experience is far more remarkable. He’s polite to the staff and his manners are impeccable as we walk around the store, taking time to chat with individuals and look at what they show him. He smiles and even laughs naturally. He remembers everyone’s name and says something relevant to each of them.
I know what this is. My writer’s brain scrambles to find a description for it. He has star quality. Goosebumps coat my skin even though it’s warm in the store, and for the first time since arriving at Greystone, I feel like I’m doing something worthwhile. This isn’t just about making money and big business.
Damian speaks to the store manager, and he leads us into the coffee shop and seats us at a table.
‘We can have lunch here too, if you want, but for now, let’s have a quick bite before we continue the tour. Do you fancy sweet or savoury? Or both?’ He smiles and I wonder if I’ve fallen into an alternative universe with a happy-go-lucky version of Damian, whose principal goal in life is to please me.
Whatever it is, I’m determined to make the most of it. It’s amazing to be in London again, especially like this, with him in his element.
‘See what they have, Jackson, and then we’ll order. We’ve still got a lot to do as they want to make the most of us being here.’
I walk to the counter, salivating at the look and smell of the abundant selection of colourful cakes and pastries. In a snap decision, after I spot a slice of fluffy lemon meringue cheesecake, I decide this is no time to be watching my weight. My mouth’s watering as I return to meet Damian’s dancing eyes where he sits watching me from the table.
‘Find something you like the look of?’
I nod. ‘My God, it’s a dieter’s worst nightmare. So many scrummy looking cakes,’ I say.
‘No need for you to diet.’ His eyes skim over my figure and if I’m not mistaken, he likes what he sees. I’m still not used to this flirty Damian and am self-conscious.
He orders for us and soon steaming cups of coffee arrive and I dig into my giant lemon slice. ‘It’s delish,’ I say, abandoning myself to the delights of the cake and forgetting to constrain myself like I usually do in Damian’s presence. ‘It’s just the right amount of tang and sweet. How’s your croissant?’ I ask between mouthfuls.
‘As good as I remember,’ he says. ‘Coffee’s good too. They have to be on the ball and maintain standards of excellence. If our flagship store isn’t the best of the best, we’re in trouble. Grandfather says it’s the face of all our stores and companies.’ He stuffs the last piece of croissant into his mouth and chews for a minute before continuing.