Chapter 32 #2
“Will you concentrate and listen to me for one minute,” I snap, annoyed. “I’m meeting your family; I want to look nice. What the hell do I pack to wear?”
“Anything will do. Relax, who cares.”
“Edward.” I let out a deep sigh. “You’re not helping one little bit.”
“Why are you so stressed out about this?”
“Because I don’t know what they wear at your farm. I don’t know what’s acceptable. I want your dad and your sister to like me and I’m probably going to look like a troll who crawled out from under a fucking bridge.”
He turns the television off and pats the bed. “Come here.” I flop to sit on the bed beside him. “It doesn’t matter what you wear, it matters who you are.”
I roll my lips as I look over my choices. “It does help if you look the part, though.”
He tucks a piece of my hair behind my shoulder. “Would you like to go shopping tomorrow to get a few things?”
“No,” I huff. “I don’t have time, I have so much to do before we take the week off and besides, I have enough clothes. I just need to find the perfect outfits to take.”
I shrug. “Tell me about your father.”
“Well.” He smiles wistfully, “My father is….” He looks up to the ceiling in an overdramatic way. “Is an earl who comes from a long lineage of old money, and possessions do not impress him at all.”
“An earl?” I act surprised.
“And he’s kind and generous and loves shortbread and he will not give a flying fuck as to what you’re wearing.”
“He loves shortbread?”
“Yes. With English tea.”
I smile. “I love English tea too.”
“Yes. I know.” He taps me on the nose. “Something in common already.”
“What about your sister?”
“Charlotte.”
“Yes.”
“Charlotte is the most beautiful human on the face of the earth.”
I smile as I listen. “I love that you two are close.”
“We weren’t for a while, for a long time I wasn’t keen on the man she wanted to marry.”
“What was his name?”
“Spencer Jones.”
“Why didn’t you like him?”
He shrugs. “Lots of reasons, he was older than her and a renowned playboy, and Lady Charlotte was a very wealthy, complete innocent who I knew was way too good for him.”
“She’s a lady?” I smile goofily, this I didn’t know.
“In every sense of the word.”
“Whatever happened to him?”
“She married him.”
“She did?”
“She did, and no matter what any of us said, she never listened.”
“Do you like him now?”
“I like how happy she is. As long as he loves her then I’m happy too.”
“That’s a nice way to think about it.” I stand and look back into the wardrobe. “What was your mom like?”
“Honestly?”
“Yeah.”
“She was a lot like you.”
My eyes meet his. “How so?”
“She was calm and centered, kind and good.”
I smile softly. “You think I’m good?”
“At fucking. Yes.”
I giggle as I stand on my tippy toes and pull a sweater down. “You had to ruin it, didn’t you?”
“You know, so many times when we are talking you remind me so much of her.”
“Like how?”
“Your belief systems.”
“What belief systems?”
“Like how you think I’m a good person.”
I turn back to him, surprised by his admission. “You are a good person.”
“Not always.”
“Always, Edward.” I lean over and kiss him. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t truly believe that you are a good person. You’re kind and sweet and loving and all things that are good.”
It’s his turn to smile softly.
“With a really good dick.”
He rolls his eyes. “You had to ruin it, didn’t you?”
I giggle as I turn back to my wardrobe. “You know, I keep hoping I will miraculously find something perfect to wear in here.”
“Who cares, just go naked.”
“Oh, that would go great, wouldn’t it? Hi, Earl of Nottingham, here are my tits.”
Amusement flashes across his face as he holds the remote up and turns the television back on. “That would win me over.”
EDWARD
I glance up to the golfing green and back down to the ball as I line up my shot.
“What happened to you on the weekend, Prescott?” Sinclair asks as he practice swings his golf club in the air.
“Nothing.” I take the putt. “Go. In.” I try to will the ball into the hole but it rolls straight past. “Fucker.” I roll my eyes. “This has to be the most infuriating sport of all fucking time.”
“What’s going on with you lately?”
“What do you mean?”
“Since when has a girl held you prisoner for two months?” he huffs. “How boring can you get. What the hell is happening to you?”
“No holding necessary.” We begin to walk to the next hole. “I’m there by my own free will and trust me, she’s anything but boring.”
“Since when do you hang out with the same woman all the time?”
“Since her. I bought us a house to live in together this week.”
Theo lets out a low whistle as he smiles down the fairway. “Careful, old boy.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Sinclair chips in.
“It’s crossed my mind…that’s for sure.” I shrug and line up my shot.
Theo’s face falls. “Surely not?”
“Maybe.”
“You think she’s the one?” He frowns.
I know she is.
“Who knows,” I lie.
“Well…fuck me dead.” Sinclair sighs. “It’s all over from here, my advice is to run while you can.” He hits the ball. “And get working on that iron-clad prenup. I don’t envy her,” he adds.
“What do you mean?”
“The wolves are going to eat her alive.”
“Just worry about you,” I snap. “Still fucking your married PA?”
He winces. “Little bit.”
“I can’t wait for the day when her husband cuts off your balls in a public hanging.” I smirk as I put my putter back into my bag.
“In my defense, she’s putting it on me all the time because he has no interest in sex. So if he were doing his job correctly I wouldn’t have to do it for him.”
“So it’s a public service then?”
“Exactly,” he agrees. “He should be thanking me for taking one for the team.”
“Hey, bring Alora over on Saturday night, I’ll host dinner,” Theo says as he lines up his ball.
“I can’t, we’ll be away.”
“Where you going?”
“I’m taking her home to the UK to meet the family.”
Their eyes all come to me. “Are you serious?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Alright, this is going too far. Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Prescott?”
ALORA
“Good morning, Mr. Prescott.”
“Good morning,” he replies as he climbs out of the car and onto the tarmac.
He holds his hand out for me. “Come, my love.”
My love.
Edward is in his customary perfectly fitted suit; his back is ramrod straight and power oozes out of his every cell. Just the sight of him makes me weak at the knees.
Seriously…this man.
People run and rush around to move the luggage from the car to the plane. “Watch your step.” Edward calmly holds my hand to lead me up the stairs.
It’s funny, I don’t see much of Edward with or around his guards.
They are either alone with me or leaving us alone.
Though this week since the whole Isadora saga they’ve been around more and it’s quite comical how different they are around him.
Everybody is on high alert as if he’s about to blow at any moment.
Is he really that much of a tyrant?
Somehow seeing him in all his bossy, dominant glory just makes him even more delicious.
The captain and flight attendants stand at the top of the stairs. “Good morning, Mr. Prescott.” The captain smiles.
“Good morning.” Edward shakes his hand, he smiles to the flight attendants. “Hello.”
“You remember Alora.”
“Yes, hello.” Everyone politely smiles.
Hmm, it’s the same crew as last time. Do they work full-time for him? What happens when he’s not flying anywhere…. Do they just sit around waiting for the call-up?
God, this man has more money than sense.
He leads me by the hand up the aisle and I take a seat; he puts my purse in the overhead and fusses around.
“Can I get you anything to drink, sir?”
“I’ll have a fresh juice, please.” He looks over to me. “Would you like anything?”
“I’ll have champagne, please.”
Amusement flashes across his face. “It’s 8 a.m.”
“Yes, I know, but I decided whenever I get on this plane that it’s time for celebration.” I click in my seat belt.
The flight attendant tries to hide her smile and fails miserably.
“Am I right?” I say to her.
“I would have to agree.” She smiles.
Edward gets his laptop, sits down beside me, and opens it up. “I have to work for a while, sweetheart.” He slides his hand up my thigh as his eyes stay on the computer.
“Okay.” I look up to catch the flight attendants exchange glances at him calling me sweetheart. It’s obvious the both of them are crushing hard on my man.
Grrr….
Yeah, you heard it straight from the horse’s mouth…wench.
I’m his sweetheart, so eyes off.
And get me my damn champagne.
I twist my lips, annoyed, and look out the window to see that they are still loading suitcases.
“Jeez,” I whisper. “How many suitcases did you bring?”
“A few.” He types.
“Your champagne.” Wench number one smiles.
“Thank you.” I take it from her, now feeling a little embarrassed about my alcoholic ways. I wait until she’s out of earshot and I lean in and whisper, “Couldn’t you have at least ordered a drink to make me appear less loserish?”
“Perhaps being less loserish would help your situation,” he mutters as he types.
I think for a moment and then lean in to whisper to him again, “I’m going to get rolling drunk and do a striptease while I stand on the seat.”
“I look forward to it.” He smiles as he reads something.
I sip my champagne and look around. “What do you think we will do today when we get there?” I take a big gulp.
“Fuck,” he says loudly.
I snort my champagne up my nose and cough. “Shh,” I whisper as I look around. “They’re going to think you’re a complete sex maniac.”
“Says the stripper.”
The plane begins to move. “Did you pack me stripper clothes?” I whisper.
“Absolutely,” he whispers back as he plays along.
“What else did you pack for me?”
“Handcuffs.”
I smile goofily as the plane hurtles down the runway and I grip his hand in mine. “This pilot knows what he’s doing, right?”
“I sincerely hope so.”
My eyes roam over the huge stone wall that is covered in ivy as my stomach flutters with nerves.