Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Beck
Stella’s eyes dipped to my bowtie, then up to my jawline and finally up to meet my gaze. “You look cute.”
The sun cast a golden, hazy light across the hotel room, making her look even more beautiful than usual, lighting up her face, highlighting the beauty spot on her cheek, emphasizing the deep v of her cupid’s bow. The short skirt didn’t hurt—she had killer legs.
“Cute?” I asked. “I’m not sure cute is a compliment.”
“Maybe I wasn’t giving you one,” she replied.
This girl never let me get away with anything, and I couldn’t remember when I’d ever had quite so much fun.
No woman had ever given me a hard time like Stella did—certainly none of my girlfriends had.
I ended up dating women who were easy. Not in the sexual sense, but in the sense that they fit into my life and didn’t require me to work at anything, which left me to put all my energy into my business.
It suited me. Perhaps Stella would be easy as a real girlfriend but as a fake girlfriend she was challenging and funny and had told me I was irritating on more than one occasion.
“You look a lot better than cute,” I replied.
She spun around, black and white sequins clinging to every curve. “You think it’s thirties enough? Everyone is bound to have gone to costume shops and had stuff made. I bought this for one of Matt’s work dos when we were up in Manchester.”
“It’s a sexy take on the thirties. And why would you want to be like all these people anyway?”
She smiled. “They’re not so bad, you know. Anyway, I don’t have anything else, so it will have to do.”
“It will more than do. I’ll struggle to keep my hands to myself all evening.” We hadn’t repeated our kisses from the day before, but looking at her now, kissing her was all I could think about.
“I have a feather boa,” she said, ignoring me. “But I think it looks tacky. What do you think?”
She hung the black feathers around her shoulders.
Normally, when a girlfriend asked me my opinion on her outfit, I’d say whatever was going to get us out the door fastest, but with Stella, I studied her.
I wanted her to look as good as she could, feel the most confident she ever had.
I wanted her to feel like she had all the power when she was with these people.
Because she was better than all of them.
“I think without. The dress is enough on its own.”
“You’re right,” she said, discarding the boa on the bed. “It’s kind of distracting. And I look like a stripper.”
“If it’s going to get you in character, then maybe I’ll change my mind.”
She picked up her evening bag and whacked me with it. “Let’s go.” She led the way out of the hotel room.
“So, it’s just cocktails tonight?” I asked as we made our way down the corridor. “No food?”
“I have no idea. I can’t imagine Karen hasn’t thought of that. So perhaps substantial canapes?”
“I might be ordering room service when we get back,” I mumbled. “There’s Henry,” I said, nodding toward the party making their way toward us from the other end of the corridor. “He’s rarely alone. It’s part of the reason it’s so difficult to speak to him.”
“This is perfect. I’ve not seen him yet. Come on,” she said, picking up speed so we could run into him.
“Henry,” Stella said. “How wonderful to see you.” Her grin lit up her face and a pang of jealousy bloomed in my gut. Had she ever smiled so widely at me?
“Stella, darling. How are you? You’re looking wonderful.” Henry was all charm and warm smiles.
“I’m wonderful, thank you. Can I introduce you to Beck Wilde?”
She placed her hand lovingly on my arm, tucking her body into mine as if she belonged to me. My breath caught in my throat, not because it was uncomfortable but because the idea of her belonging to me felt . . . right.
“Mr. Wilde, very nice to see you again. You did very well with the clays the other day. I hope you leave some grouse for us tomorrow.”
“You have my word on that, sir,” I said.
Maybe I was a hypocrite—I couldn’t even spell the word vegetarian—but I didn’t want the souls of tiny birds haunting me.
I’d leave that to old money. “After we met,” I said, “I realized our paths have almost crossed a couple of times in London.” I wasn’t about to mention the time at the Dorchester when I tried to introduce myself.
“There was a property of yours I was interested in.”
Henry frowned. “Really? I don’t recall.”
“Yes, the Dawnay building in Mayfair.”
He took in a deep breath and then shook his head. “Yes, place still isn’t let. But I don’t remember any offers.”
“Well, perhaps we could find some time to discuss it,” I said.
“Yes, of course,” he said. “Right now, I must go and see Graham.” He shook his head and turned back to Stella. “You look wonderful, darling.” He turned to me. “Look after her . . . Mr. Wilde.”
Great, I thought as Henry headed toward the bar and left Stella and me at the entrance to the party. He hadn’t even remembered my first name.
“Who’s Graham?” I asked.
“No idea,” she replied. “Tell me what happened?”
“What? When?”
“Henry mentioned that you shot well,” Stella said as we found ourselves a table and took a seat.
“Oh yes. It’s surprising how often these men miss considering they do this kind of thing all the time.”
Stella groaned. “Give it to me straight. Did you beat everyone else?”
Why was she groaning? I thought she’d be impressed.
“Easily,” I replied. “That’s what too much time with an air rifle and three empty tomato soup cans looks like.”
She leaned toward me. “I’m going to ask you a straightforward question and I want you to give me an honest answer—how badly do you want this building in Mayfair?”
Had she missed something? I thought I’d been more than clear. “Badly.”
“Put your ego to one side, hand over your credit card, and follow my instructions ‘badly’?”
“You want me to buy everyone a round of drinks?” I asked.
“That’s the very last thing I want you to do.” She pulled out her phone and began scrolling. “We’re free tomorrow morning—no wedding events. We’ll try in the village but if not, we’re going to have to make a trip into Inverness,” she said like I knew what she was talking about.
“For what?” I asked.
“You’re clearly not winning over Henry. That introduction was a car crash.”
Car crash seemed a harsh way of putting it.
It hadn’t been that bad, had it? He might not have remembered my name, or asked me anything about the Dawnay building and my interest in it.
He might have cut the conversation short, but it was progress, wasn’t it?
I suppose it hadn’t been great, but I’d at least spoken to him.
“So, we need to get you back on track,” Stella said. “We’re going to go shopping and buy you some things, and I’m going to help you build a relationship with Henry.”
“What sort of things are we going to buy that will help me negotiate with Henry? A rope, duct tape, and some chloroform?”
“Funny,” she replied. “Clothes. We’re going to give you a makeover.”
“You’re going to give me a Pretty Woman moment?” I asked.
“Think of me as Richard Gere. And you’re Julia Roberts, just not as hot.”
“Well, for the record, you’re a lot better looking than either Richard or Julia.”
“See? You can be charming.” She smoothed down the lapel of my jacket, and I had to fight back the urge to pull her on to my lap.
“So Tom Ford’s not good enough?”
“It’s far too good. You know these people aren’t cash rich. Their wealth is in property and art and trusts . . . They are caretakers of a fortune—they spend their time trying not to spend money. You know this; you’re not stupid.”
“That’s the point. I can make Henry cash rich if he’d give me the time of day.”
“Your way hasn’t worked so far, and he didn’t show much interest in speaking about your offer on his building. If you want him to sell you that property, you need to play by his rules. No one likes a show-off.”
I liked Stella’s feistiness, had since I’d met her that first day when she’d turned me down flat. But a step farther and I’d officially be pissed off. “I’m not showing off.”
“Then why did you win yesterday?”
“You’re not suggesting I should pretend to be less than I am so I puff up these people’s egos, are you?” I asked.
“If all it took was ego-puffing, then that would be easy. And I can’t imagine that you are so pig-headed that you wouldn’t be prepared to puff, puff, puff if that’s what it took.
You can be so completely charming, so utterly convincing, I don’t get why you’re being so stubborn about using your powers of persuasion with these people.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say part of you doesn’t want the Dawnay building at all. ”
“You know that I want the building more than anything.”
“Why? You have plenty of money. It can’t just be a financial thing.”
She waited as if I was going to answer her, as if I was going to tell her all my secrets.
I stayed silent.
“It’s like you’re trying to antagonize people.
You need to get them on your side, but you know this, and so I don’t get it—the Tom Ford when everyone else is in tweed.
The winning at clays even though what you should be concentrating on is talking to Henry and letting the host win. None of this makes sense.”
“Oil and water,” I said. “We don’t mix. They don’t like me.”
“I like you,” she said.
Didn’t she get it? She wasn’t like the rest of them. She wasn’t like any woman I’d ever met. “You’re different.”
“Then trust me and let me take you shopping tomorrow.”
“If you let me kiss you,” I countered. It had been too long since our last kiss.
A small smile curled around her lips. “You always want to make a deal. But you’re asking for something I’m more than willing to give without anything in return. Maybe you need to sharpen your negotiation skills.”
This woman was as sharp as a pin.
“Well, then maybe I’ll make you wait.”
She sighed. “More waiting.”
I pushed down a grin and tried to ignore the ache in my balls at the thought of denying her.
Yes, I wanted the Dawnay building. But right at that moment, I wanted Stella London more.
Tonight was going to be a long night, and I was going to have to use every ounce of my self-control to stop myself from pulling her out of this cocktail party, back to our room, and stripping her naked immediately.