Chapter 20 ALEX
I JUMPED BACK INTO MY SEAT as the pair left the bedroom, having tried to stay rooted to the couch and not eavesdrop, but I found myself being drawn towards the door like a kitten to a ball of yarn.
As it was, all I’d made out was that Tracy was wary of me.
Fair enough, really. A notorious playboy turns up at her home uninvited and gets handsy with her daughter.
All in all, not the best first impression.
“Everything okay?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible.
Nancy came over. “Yeah, all good. We’d like you to stay for dinner if you’re free.”
“That would be wonderful.”
“I’m making chilli, so nothing too fancy,” Tracy said tentatively.
“I love home-cooked food. Would you like some help in the kitchen?”
“Well, I suppose you could chop some veg if you like.”
“Sure.” I rose, and Nancy followed me in surprise. “No, you sit; you’re still sick.” I leaned in for a tender kiss.
Tracy turned away, busying herself in the kitchen. I sat on a breakfast stool at the counter. “Winning over the parent, very wise,” she said sagely.
I grinned. “Just put me to work, Tracy.”
She set up a chopping board and knife and left me with an onion and bell pepper to dice while she cooked the mince.
I picked up the knife and studied the vegetables, having never chopped one.
No guts, no glory. I attacked the vegetables, slicing unevenly and producing alternately fat and thin cubes.
Tracy chuckled, and I looked up with tears in my eyes from the onion’s sharpness. “It’s pretty obvious I’ve never done this before, right?” I whispered so Nancy couldn’t hear.
“It’s about the effort, love.” She patted my arm, her eyes softening, and took the heaped board. “I’ll get these on. You go rinse your eyes and carry on watching the film.”
I popped to the bathroom to clean up but returned and sat across from her again. “Tracy, I noticed you have some dampness in the flat. How long has it been going on?”
“Oh, you saw that.” She turned to the stove, looking embarrassed. “It’s a recurring problem, but I’ve reported it. I meant to chase it up, but it’s been hectic with cleaning and hair appointments.”
“You work two jobs?”
“I do some office cleaning around Westminster. It’s a zero-hours contract, but they usually have quite a few shifts going this time of year. But my real passion is hair, so I take on all the appointments I can for that.”
“An entrepreneur?”
“Hardly,” she scoffed, “but I’m proud of it. I’ve built a reputation with my customers on World’s End.”
“Reputation is everything in business.”
“And who you know too, I expect,” she said shrewdly.
“True. Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I can help you with the issues in the flat. Fix the damp. Supply some updated fixtures. Would you let me?”
Tracy turned with an expression that was as much kindly as sceptical. “Love, you don’t need to do that. I’m saving towards a few new furnishings, and the damp isn’t as bad as it seems.”
I held her gaze. “If you had carte blanche with this place, what would you do?”
“Well, I’m a way off being able to buy it, so I’m not sure.”
“Just hypothetically. You must have thought about it.”
Tracy stirred in the tomatoes and kidney beans while she considered. “I guess I’d go light and airy. It can get a little dark in winter, so maybe an off-white with accent colours. New cabinets. New carpet. New bathroom suite. Something modern. That sort of thing.”
Nancy walked over. “What are you two chatting about? My ears are burning.”
I drew my arms around her waist. “I want you and Tracy to live in an apartment I own in Chelsea for the next week while we get the issues in the flat sorted out. You can pack what you need, and I’ll take you over tonight.”
“Alex, we’ve already discussed this—”
“No, we put it on hold. Now we’re discussing it, and before either of you says anything, you should know that I rarely take no for an answer; it’s just not in my nature.”
Nancy rolled her eyes. “I’m never gonna hear the end of this till you get your way, am I?” I gave her a consoling look and shook my head. “Mum, it has to be your decision.”
Tracy looked to the floor and then back at my deadly serious face. “I suppose, but it will just take the week, won’t it? I’d feel strange being away for too long.”
I smiled and replied with a commanding tone I used to close a deal. “I assure you, just one week. We’ll eat, you’ll pack, and then I’ll take you over to the apartment. Tomorrow morning, a gentleman named Monsieur DuPont will call in to discuss design options. He oversees Toverton Estates.”
The women looked at each other, and Tracy started laughing. “Well, this isn’t how I expected my Saturday to pan out, but I am grateful. You’re a sweet guy, Alex.”
We enjoyed dinner together, eating out of bowls on the couch while Vespa met the inevitable fate of a Bond girl. Afterwards, Nancy and Tracy went to their rooms to pack a suitcase for their week-long trip to the other side of Chelsea.
I lay back on Nancy’s bed, overjoyed with the situation. After yesterday’s blip, everything was proceeding to plan. I watched on as she smiled and laughed, packing her clothes, the scent from her pillow soothing my senses, and realised this was the most tranquil I’d ever felt.
Once they were ready, I drove them the fifteen minutes along King’s Road to Sloane Street, where my penthouse apartment was located.
Though it had been vacant for a couple of months, my housekeeper had kept it serviced and ready for a new occupant.
I parked outside a bay-windowed, red-brick building (iconic to the area) and hopped out to open the rear door.
The pair stood on the pavement and looked around at the designer stores lining the broad street. Armani, Gucci, Prada, and Valentino—their shopfronts were lit up like Christmas as the May evening drew in.
I carried their suitcases inside and introduced them to Nathan, the live-in concierge, who organised their keys.
Then, we stood silently in the lift as it ascended to number eight.
I unlocked the front door, stepping aside for mother and daughter to enter.
A few paces in, the pair stopped dead, gaping at the lavish scene.
Oak hardwood floors lined the high-ceilinged, open-plan penthouse.
To the left was the living space, plush with cream sofas and a leather lounge chair that overlooked a well-stocked bookcase and entertainment suite.
Sitting near the bay windows as if carved out of the floor was the polished walnut concert grand that had once belonged to my great-grandfather, Lawrence Toverton, ‘the jazz duke’.
In the centre, the style switched to function.
Geometric long-backed chairs hugged a glass-topped dining table, softly lit by four pendant lights.
To the right was a stainless steel kitchen complete with a breakfast island, range cooker, smart fridge, and fully stocked wine cooler.
It was prime London real estate, to say the least.
“Please, look around and make yourself at home,” I told the astonished women glued to the spot. “Tracy, I’ll put you in the north bedroom, and Nancy, you can take the south.”
“Do I need a compass to navigate this place?” Nancy said dryly as I passed.
“Come with me, and less of your cheek.”
Not heeding my words, she stuck her tongue out as she followed me into the bedroom. I promptly turned, grabbed her around the hips, and launched her onto the massive wing-back bed. She laughed in outrage and sat up on her elbows, eyeing me, then lay back slowly, smiling in invitation.
I climbed on and lowered into a plank above her, unsure of my dominant position, but she drew her arms around my neck, wrapped her legs around my waist, and clung to me like a barnacle, suspended, laughing.
I held myself up for well over a minute as a matter of pride and then collapsed, rolling on my back so she could straddle me.
“Is this to your liking?”
“Me on top?” she chuckled.
I tickled behind her knee. “The apartment.”
“Are you kidding me?” She attempted to swat my hand away. “This is wild! When did you buy this place?”
My expression flickered, but she didn’t notice. “It was a gift from my father for my twenty-first birthday.”
“Some gift!”
“It’s a family tradition,” I murmured. “What’s important to me is if you’ll feel comfortable.”
“Sure…it’s stunning.” She looked at me curiously and then lowered for a kiss.