Seven Days Secret Baby_A Second Chance Romance Read online

  There was the kiss after all. So soon after he tried to spank me. When I’d almost seen him naked in the study and then kissed his cheek. Sure, he’d told me to act but that had just given me the excuse to do what I wanted to do anyway, knowing he couldn’t stop me without giving away that I had been hired for the occasion.

  When I pressed my lips to his cheek, I felt the roughness of his stubble and caught a hint of the scent of him, deep and dark and all man, just like I dreamed it would be.

  A door was open that I hadn’t noticed before and I went in to find a maid cleaning the shelves of a library, running a duster along them whilst humming to herself. “Mind if I settle in?” I asked.

  She nodded. “You don’t need to ask me for permission, Miss.”

  “I’m asking anyway. Any books you recommend?”

  “I couldn’t possibly say.” With that she scurried off, leaving me alone. I looked along the rows of volumes before settling on a battered copy of David Copperfield that looked like it hadn’t been read for about a hundred years.

  Settling into an overstuffed armchair, I lost myself in the pages until I felt a shadow falling over me. Looking up I saw it was him. “Beginning your life with the beginning of your life,” he said, nodding towards the title. “Be careful with that, it’s a first edition.”

  I almost dropped it when he said that. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I put it down on the table beside me as delicately as I could. “I wouldn’t have touched it if I’d known.”

  “Books are meant to read,” he said with a shrug. “Are you a fan?”

  “Of books or of Dickens?”

  “Both.”

  “Then yes. To both.”

  “My great great Granddad was friends with him.”

  “You’re kidding. Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I can prove it.”

  “How?”

  “I’ve got some things of his somewhere in the attic. Gave them to the family when he was dying.”

  I laughed. “Next you’ll be telling me you’ve got the end to Edwin Drood up there.”

  “I don’t know about that but I’ll go have a look at some point. See what I can dig up.” His face was as inscrutable as ever.

  “You’re serious. Your great great Granddad knew Charles Dickens? The Charles Dickens?”

  “I was named for Nicholas Nickleby. It’s been a family tradition to name the children after characters from his books. I was lucky. My father was named Steerforth.”

  “Could have been worse. It could have been Squeers.”

  “That’s very true. Listen, I wanted to thank you for this morning.”

  “Did we pull it off? Is your deal going ahead?”

  “It looks like it. I wondered if you weren’t busy, would you like to join me for afternoon tea outside?”

  “I’d love to.”

  I got to my feet, following him through the house towards the open back door, a warm breeze blowing in as we stepped out into the sunshine. “Where are we headed?” I asked.

  “I thought down by the fish pond.”

  “I'd prefer chicken.”

  A picnic had already been laid out by the time we got there. Two wicker chairs with a small table between. On the table was a basket and from it he pulled a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Nice day for it,” he said while pouring a glass for me. “Enjoy.”

  I sat back in the chair with the glass in my hand, watching the sunlight sparkle on the pond in front of me. On the far side a duck moved slowly across the water, oblivious to the two of us. “It’s beautiful here,” I said. “How big is the garden?”

  “Oh, just a couple of hundred acres. It was bigger but my grandfather sold some off for farming just before Queen Victoria died.”

  Just a couple of hundred acres,” I said quietly in disbelief.”

  “Why? How big’s your garden?”

  “I don’t have a garden.” I looked at him and he seemed surprised. “Do you have any idea how most people actually live?”

  “Actually I do.”

  “Oh really? Growing up in a place like this, you get a great view of what poverty’s like, do you?”

  “I was thrown out of here when I was twelve. I had to live on the streets because I’d argued with my father. I got to watch my little sister die from a distance because he wouldn't let me back in the grounds. I had no money, no home, and no sister. So, yes I know what it’s like to have nothing. I was told you had a garden, that’s why I asked.”

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

  “Not everyone is how they look on the surface, Jodie. I had to build myself up from nothing and I did it. I started working at twelve and I vowed I would never be poor again. I started with carrying barrows at the market from four in the morning until seven at night. It nearly killed me but it paid enough to keep me alive. I have worked for every penny I’ve earned. I got my first million by the time I was twenty and it nearly killed me but by the time I was twenty-five I had enough saved to buy this place back when my father died and left no will. I bought it off the state and moved back in and I’ve been here ever since. He hadn't touched Jessica's room since she died and I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone touching it. I left it the way it was.”

  He lapsed into silence and my hand found the top of his, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so presumptuous. There is a garden at the apartment block but it belongs to the landlord. No one else is allowed in it. I shouldn’t have judged you like that. I just thought-”

  “That I’d inherited money and never had to work hard. I get up at five every morning and work all day because I remember what it was like to live on the streets.”

  I could read between the lines. He was at least partly doing it because of his sister.

  “Is it worth it?” I asked. “Working so hard, I mean.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice here but your cook’s not as good as Pepe.”

  “I heard about that place. Have a look in the basket.”

  I looked down, realising my hand was still on his. I let go reluctantly, peering down under the cloth that lined the inside of the basket.

  “Oh my God, you got Pepe to make Florentines. He never makes those anymore.”

  “He did when I told him they were for you.”

  I glanced behind me, someone was walking across the lawn towards us. It was his secretary.

  “Gwyneth,” he said without turning to look at her. “I would recognise that march anywhere. Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t to be disturbed?”

  “I’m sorry, Sir but it’s the Prime Minister again. Said it’s urgent.”

  “I will call back when I’m done with these Florentines.”

  “What should I-”

  I snapped, “Tell her I will call her back when I am ready. Everything is always urgent since that bloody Europe vote. She can wait until I am done with Miss Harris. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.”

  She walked away and he turned back to look at me. “My apologies.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Don’t you want to take the call?”

  “It’ll be asking for a donation. That’s the only reason anyone ever gets in touch with me.”

  “It must be hard.”

  “What is?”

  “Never getting any time to yourself, always in demand like that.”

  “I never gave it much thought. Anyway, take a Florentine. Tell me if they’re any good.”

  I bit into it, remembering why I loved Pepe’s bakery so much.

  “Good?” he asked, taking one for himself.

  “So good.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Look, I feel guilty taking up your time. I think you should go return that call.”

  “I am spending time with you.”

  “But it was the Prime Minister.”

  “So?”
He frowned, examining me closely. “It’s making you uncomfortable, isn’t it? Not ringing her back.”

  “A little.”

  “Then I will go and return the call. I insist you stay here and sunbathe. I will see you tonight. Be ready for eight. We’re going out in public, solidify this decent human being act.”

  “I don’t think it’s an act. I think you’re already a decent human being. You just hide it.”

  He walked away without another word but I watched him and he glanced back for just a moment. When he did there was a flicker of a smile on his lips. Then he was gone.

  There was a blanket laid out beside the chair and I moved to it, the wine making me feel light-headed. Going out tonight at eight with billionaire Nick Stempel. Just another ordinary day.

  EIGHT - NICK

  I looked from one dress to the other. One was expensive, hired from a dress agency at a cost of several thousand pounds. The other had come from a supermarket about twenty miles away. Both were green but where one shimmered and looked light as the air, the other was dull and heavy, shadowed where the first sparkled.

  “What do you think?” I asked Gwyneth.

  “I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation,” she replied. “It took a lot of work. Finding a designer piece that would fit her wasn’t easy. She will look perfect.”

  “But isn’t it better that she’s seen in something cheap, remind everyone that she’s poor and I’m taking care of her? Let that trickle back to Tomlinson and we’re set. If she wears that, she’ll just look like the other rich women there.”

  “Trust me, Sir, this is the way to go.”

  “All right. You know fashion better than me. I just hope you know what you’re doing. Bring her through.”

  I sat behind my desk and waited. Why was my heart beating so fast? Was I excited about seeing her again? I found myself picturing her in the designer gown. There was no point buying it, not when she was only wearing it for tonight. Gwyneth had ordered it. This way it could be returned and I would recoup some of the money.

  Jodie appeared a minute later, a smile spreading across her face as she walked in with the dress over her arm. “Is this for me?” she asked. “Your secretary just gave it to me.”

  “It is just gone five in the evening,” I said, glancing at my watch. “We are due at an art auction at eight. We leave here at half past seven. That gives you two and a half hours to get your hair and make up done and to get into that dress.”

  “I didn’t bring any make up with me. I was told to come with nothing at all.”

  “That has been accounted for. When we arrive at the auction I want you to act once again as you did for Tomlinson. I am your saviour. For all intents and purposes I have rescued you from the streets and am your only hope of survival. You are eternally grateful for the money and love I have lavished and bestowed upon you. Got that?”

  “I tell everyone how great you are. Don’t worry, I think I can manage it.”

  “Hold on. These aren’t your ordinary people tonight. You’ll be surrounded by the cream of society. If it’s one thing rich people can sniff out, it’s liars. You better not slip up. Your money is depending on it. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  That word again. Her calling me Sir, making my cock twitch. “Go and get ready. My people are waiting in your room for you. Be ready to leave at half past seven, not a second later.”

  I watched her go, taking in the view of her ass again. Tonight was going to be the night. I would take her to the auction, show her off to the assembled masses, maybe get them to stop trying to get me married off to their daughters.

  I’d bring her back afterward and if the dress got ripped off her and couldn’t be returned to the agency? Well, that was just the cost of doing business.

  I thought about how she looked when I saw her naked in the pool. That body of hers. I’d only had a fleeting glimpse from a distance but it was enough to tell me what I needed to know. I had to have her and soon.

  I picked up the phone. If the auction went as planned I wanted to hit the ground running. Word would get back to Tomlinson quickly. As soon as the paperwork was sorted I wanted to be on the land and have the oil rights ready to go. I didn’t want to miss a day.

  I rang Richard. “Busy?” I asked when I got through.

  “Lawyers are always busy,” he replied.

  “Got time for me though?”

  “Always. What can I do for you, Nick?”

  “Are we good to go yet?”

  “Pretty much. I need a couple of signatures from you on the pre-contract documents. Do you want me to courier them over to you?”

  “No need. I’ve got a spare hour.”

  “Will that be enough time for you to read them?”

  “Do I need to read them? Have you read them?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “And the terms are reasonable?”

  “Eminently.”

  “Then I trust your judgment. You say they’re fine, that’s good enough for me. I’m on my way.”

  I took the helicopter to his office, landing on the roof of the building and leaving the pilot waiting for me. It was the quickest way of getting in and out of the city without hitting traffic and I didn’t want to be late back after telling Jodie to make sure she was ready on time.

  Richard was waiting for me in his office. “There you are,” he said as I walked in. Sign wherever is marked.”

  I went through with my pen, signing with the usual flourish on each page that required it. “How’s it going with Jodie?” he asked as I passed the papers back to him.

  “Better than I hoped.”

  “I hope you’re watching your silver.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that you’ll probably need to have the place fumigated after she’s gone.” He looked at me as if expecting a laugh.

  “Don’t say things like that about her.”

  “All right,” he said, his hands held up towards me. “I didn’t think you’d be so touchy about her. Anyone would think you’d taken a shine to the woman.”

  “There’s no need to insult her, that’s all. Are we done here?”

  “Looks like it.”

  I got up and left without saying goodbye. I was irritated by what he’d said but I didn’t want it to show, not with the deal so delicately held in the balance. As a lawyer if he took offense to something I said, he could throw any number of spanners in the works. I had to keep him sweet but that didn’t mean laughing when he insulted Jodie.

  I needed to concentrate on tonight anyway. As we flew back to the house, I thought about my plans, putting Richard’s insulting words behind me.

  The art auction had been carefully chosen. My people had found out that a couple of the paintings had been donated to Tomlinson and he was auctioning them off to raise money for his foundation. One was a Flambert which was bound to get a lot of interest. Worth at least five million, maybe twice that.

  My intention was simple. I would show up with Jodie on my arm, make a big song and dance about how much I was helping her, what a good person I was. I’d even bid on the Flambert. Not much, just enough to show that I was prepared to donate to a good cause.

  Word would get back to Tomlinson and that should shake any doubts out of his mind. He’d sell me the land, I’d drill for the oil inside it and be two billion pounds richer by the end of the year..

  It was a perfect plan apart from one tiny little flaw. I didn’t want Jodie to leave at the end of the week. I didn’t want her to leave at all. Something had changed in me and it had happened quickly and quietly.

  Something about her had got under my skin. I wanted to own her, keep her in the house as mine alone. I no longer wanted to let her go. I couldn’t tell her that, it might ruin her ability to act, especially if the idea scared her. I’d tell her after the deal was done.

  For now, it was get to the auction, make a big show. Then get her home again and get that naked body
of hers moaning underneath me.

  I just hoped I could keep it together long enough to get through the night. The wrong word might get back to Tomlinson if it looked like I was sleeping with her.

  He’d think I’d only taken her in because of her beauty, not her poverty. He’d think all the usual things about me and my nature and that might be enough to make him think twice about the deal.

  I had to play things carefully. That shouldn’t be too difficult. If I could handle multi-million pound deals before breakfast I could handle a date with Jodie.

  The helicopter came into land in the grounds. I climbed out, ducking low under the slowing blades. Making my way to the house I looked at the time. Just gone six.

  NINE - JODIE

  The last of them left the bedroom and I was alone for the first time in what felt like forever. The entire room had been crammed with stylists and color specialists and nail technicians and people who just seemed to be there to cause me pain.

  I’d sat in a robe and felt more like a piece of meat than I ever had in my life. My legs had been waxed and they hadn’t stopped there. Hands had been in intimate places so much I almost thought I’d lost my virginity.

  Between my legs was sore from hair removal by medieval torture devices. My eyebrows had almost vanished. The hair on my head felt about twice as big as before and I dared not touch it, fearing the whole thing would collapse and the exasperated stylist would have to come back in and start again.

  Make up artists had worked on me while I had to sit perfectly still and say nothing. All the time I wondered what he would think. It shouldn’t matter but it did. I wanted him to like the finished version of me, show him I could scrub up nicely even if it took a dozen hired hands to make it happen. I still held onto the pointless dream that he might want to ask me on a proper date.