Page 55 of Arrogant Heir
I take a deep breath. Nothing is going to stop me from having fun tomorrow. Keeping it light, I decide to show him I’m not overthinking things between us and it’s just a bit of fun, so I reply:
Prince Charming. Thank you. That’s very generous, but Cinderella’s all set. No business expenses required.
Back at the cottage that evening, I eat dinner. Someone has restocked my food and beverage supplies every week since I arrived and there’s always a wonderful selection of fresh ingredients and deli meals that only need warming up.
Living at Greystone is like having a fairy godmother—all domestic inconveniences are magically taken care of without me even seeing who does the cleaning, laundry, and shopping.
Returning to a regular life in Clapham Common is going to be a rude shock, but I am looking forward to seeing my lovely mum. And Shanella is coming home from Australia soon so that’s something to look forward to.
I sense I’m in for a crushing fall after this high I’ve been on leading up to the ball and going out with Damian, but I can’t stop now. I don’t want to stop. It’s an addiction and I’m having sexual fantasies about him, and I can barely sleep.
This morning I had to call on my trusty vibrator to relieve the extreme sexual yearning and as I buzzed it over my clit, I thought of Damian bursting out of his running pants and placing my hand on his hard cock. I came right there in a heady swirl of lusty arousal and by the time Saturday morning dawns, I’m in a fever of heady sexual anticipation.
A sensible voice cautions me: what if he’s gone off the idea, and he wants it to be strictly business?
I scold the voice and evict it from my mind. It’s Saturday, the day of the ball, and I’m determined to make the most of it.
When I’m out of the shower, I see a text from Damian:
Morning Cinders, the car should be with you by 10.30 a.m. I’ll be here when you arrive. Don’t forget your dress! D
I laugh out loud. His sense of humour calms the anxious bustle in my chest. I have to keep reminding myself this is a formal arrangement and if he’s decided he’s not into me beyond that, I’ll soon pick up on it and won’t make a fool of myself.
I hope.
Simon has already made a complete fool of me, so lusting after a smoking hot billionaire doesn’t seem as dangerous as it might have done once upon a time.
It’s warm out—spring is suddenly in full bloom and the gardens are a riot of colour as I head down the path, clutching my dress and overnight bag. I deliberated over what to wear today before the ball.
On the one hand, I hate looking like I’ve tried too hard, and my weekend jeans didn’t put Damian off last time. But my new femme fatale mood took over and I’m wearing a newly purchased fitted red pencil skirt which shows off my curves in all the right places, and a short-sleeved top that cinches at my waist. I barely ate yesterday as I was too nervous, and I want a flat stomach for my tight satin dress for the ball. I’ve still got no appetite and am running on lust and latte. There’ll be plenty of time to eat when this is all over and I’ll never see him again.
I’m determined to make the most of today and not show Damian how much I like him,onlyhow much I fancy him. I won’t be coy and miss out. A playboy might appreciate a direct approach.
The last thing he wants is a clingy female, so my dress will be the only thing that’s clingy this evening. I’d rather die than admit I have feelings for him beyond a bit of fun, so he will not find out from me. And I hope my feelings will fade in time, but at least I’ll know I made the most of him while I could.
No regrets.
My feelings for Simon fluctuate wildly and one minute I think if he is serious about getting back together, I’ll consider it, and the next I don’t care if I never see him again.
The more into Damian I become, the more distanced I feel from Simon, and I’m realising he’s notthe one. I decide I’m better off alone until I figure out what I want. No one ever said love wasn’t confusing, and I’ve never been as confused about my feelings as I am right now.
As the car exits the Greystone estate, I’m relieved to see there are no lurking members of the press trying to snap my photo. The less Simon knows about today, the better. I’m not cheating on him because we’re not together. I will keep the memory of Damian locked away in my heart forever.
Damian will be my secret, and no one will know what passed between us.
The miles whiz by as I try to relax against the cool leather of Damian’s Range Rover. By now I’m panicking—I’m no femme fatale—and am losing more of my nerve with every mile that passes.
Half an hour later we turn off Chelsea embankment and the car shoots into an underground carpark and slithers to a stop.
The driver turns to me. ‘We’re here, Ms Jackson. I’ll bring up your stuff.’
I smile and thank John, as though I turn up at a billionaire’s penthouse every day of the week with a plan to seduce him.
I’m so nervous, I can’t think straight.
What am I doing?
CHAPTER36