Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Joshua
The restaurant in Covent Garden wasn’t one I’d been to before.
Hartford had picked it, though it didn’t seem like a place she’d choose for herself.
It was modern industrial, with exposed poles and pipes crisscrossing the ceiling, metal chairs, and a concrete floor.
I imagined Hartford would be more comfortable in a restaurant with oak beams, exposed flagstones, and a roaring fire.
Given that my date was the model Hollie had been trying to set me up with, no doubt Hartford had picked the restaurant on a recommendation from one of the girls.
It was like they were all conspiring to get me to fall in love.
Wasn’t going to happen.
I scanned down the menu and quickly made my choices so I could focus on my date. And then I pulled out my phone.
Food better be good or as punishment, I’m going to bring you back here, I texted Hartford.
Quick as a flash, my phone buzzed.
All food is good food. But I’m sitting here hoping the food is not up to your usual standards so I get a free meal.
Her reply was typical. Unfiltered but vaguely wise.
In the places she’d worked, I imagined she was used to seeing people who would have thought eating in a restaurant was one step away from heaven.
Her worldview forced me to look at everything and everyone in a new light.
It was unsettling. Unnerving. Uncomfortable.
But for some reason, I craved it.
I enjoyed hearing what she thought about things. About everything.
When I saw a tall, very thin blonde coming toward me, I knew this must be Natalie—or Mavis, as Hartford had nicknamed her. I stood and grinned. Then turned down my smile, conscious of my dimple.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Joshua and . . . you’re beautiful.”
Her eyes darted to the floor and she looked up at me from under her eyelashes.
“Thank you.” She was a model with all the attributes you’d expect: long legs, clear skin, big eyes, and a pout she knew how to use.
She reminded me a little of Kelly, except with strawberry-blonde hair.
“This place seems nice. I’ve never been before. ”
We both took our seats and exchanged small talk. After we’d got our drinks and placed our dinner order, we found common ground in a couple of photographers we had both worked with—her in front of the camera and me for campaigns.
“It’s a small world,” she said.
“Especially London. You wouldn’t think we’d cross paths so often in a city of nearly nine million people.”
“I have to admit, I’ve heard things about you. I think you’ve dated a couple of my friends.”
We were at a fork in the road; the evening could go either way. Either she’d grill me about my relationships with her friends or not.
“London’s more of a village than a city,” I replied. “It seems you have some insider information. That seems a little . . .” I held her gaze for a couple of seconds before she looked away. “Imbalanced. What should I know about you that would put the scales back into equilibrium?”
Her smile took ten years off her. “You mean what would my exes say about me?”
I wasn’t going to ask that exact question, but if she was offering me the answer, I wasn’t going to say no. I sat back in my chair, waiting for her to elaborate.
“I suppose it depends which one you ask.” She paused and pulled her eyebrows together. “Most of them were complete shitheads.” Her tone hardened and she pursed her lips.
Yikes. Maybe the menu had a lid I could order for the can of worms I’d just opened.
“So maybe tell me what your best friends would say about you instead?” I couldn’t help but wonder what Hartford would say about me.
Natalie seemed to soften at my question and her smile reappeared. “They’d say I was beautiful, obviously. And a bit extra. And I always know where the sample sales are. I’m the first one in the queue.”
Out of all those attributes, the one that sounded the most interesting was the second. “Why would they call you ‘extra’?”
“Oh you know, I’m always the one who loses a shoe at a party. I guess I’m just a little wild.”
Hmmm. “What kind of wild things do you like to do?”
“Party. Travel. Swim in the sea naked. A party on a yacht combines all my favorite things in life. You like yachts?”
I’d met girls like Natalie before. They were nice to spend an evening with but difficult to recall in any detail two days later. “Sounds fun. I’ve been on a few yachts in my time.”
“Super fun, isn’t it?”
I don’t remember having a bad time on a yacht. But I couldn’t quite recall what exactly had made it a good time. “Sure.”
“Will you excuse me while I go to the loo?” She headed off to the ladies and I pulled out my phone.
No messages.
What are you doing? I messaged Hartford.
Your two hours aren’t up. Why aren’t you talking to your date?
I grinned. She’s having a wee. Do you have cake for our debrief?
What was I going to tell her about Natalie?
She was nice enough. But tonight seemed a bit pointless.
No, I had to stop thinking like that. I was here because it meant getting distance from Hartford.
Which was good for me. And it meant Hartford agreed to date, which would be good for her.
Good for her career. She’d disappear from my life as quickly as she’d entered it and I could get back to normal.
She texted back. I’ve got something better than cake.
An image flashed in my brain of Hartford standing at the window, facing London, naked, looking over her shoulder back at me.
Shit. She didn’t mean it like that. Knowing Hartford, she probably meant she had two cakes.
Those are fighting words.
I watched as Natalie sauntered back to the table in the way only very tall, willowy women could. “Those toilets are so cool.” She sat back down. “You should try them.”
I nodded, trying to think of something witty or flirtatious to say in response to commentary on restaurant loos.
Our main courses arrived and we fell silent as we dug into our food. Except that Natalie didn’t eat. Not really. She had salmon on watercress but other than a few leaves of watercress, she just seemed to stir the items around her plate.
“Not hungry?”
“I have a shoot tomorrow. Don’t want to bloat.”
“Right.” We should have just come for drinks rather than dinner. My phone buzzed against my thigh and I wanted desperately to see what Hartford had said. I resisted. I’d agreed to this date to create distance, not to create something to talk to Hartford about—an excuse to spend more time with her.
“So, you know Hollie, too, don’t you?” I asked, scrambling for something to say.
“Yes. She’s so nice. Her jewelry is absolutely gorgeous. I’m all about stacking pieces but making one thing stand out. You know?”
I nodded as I chewed my steak.
“Some models don’t know how to wear jewelry, but I think I have an eye for it. In fact, I’d like to design one day.”
“That’s interesting,” I replied. “I’m sure Hollie would be happy to talk to you about it.”
“I’m so busy at the moment. I want to build up enough of a brand that I can do something with mass appeal—maybe get some kind of deal with Tiffany or something.”
Sounded ambitious. But ambition was good.
“I just want to make the world prettier. Some of the designs you see are so bloody ugly. I want to bring the pretty back.” She grinned.
“I like that. Bringing the pretty back. Like, bringing the sexy back but . . . you know, pretty instead. My mind just thinks of these things. All the time. I’m full of ideas. I’m very creative.”
I swallowed down another bite then put down my knife and fork. I was done here. Natalie was meant to be distracting me from Hartford, but sitting here, all I could think about was getting back to the penthouse to share cake with my next-door neighbor.