Wanting Mr Black (London Billionaire #2)

1. One

One

O vercast grey clouds smother the city skyline as far as the eye can see. The once-glistening waters of the river now stand murky and dull. A throb pierces my temples, and my stomach churns with emptiness. I feel awful, the result of crying myself to sleep, curled in a ball, and flitting in and out of consciousness in a restless daze all night.

The chink of porcelain on glass makes me glance up from where I’m huddled on the sofa. Lucy places two mugs of tea on the coffee table. The only reason I dragged myself out of bed this morning was to let her into the apartment. If she hadn’t come, I’d still be there.

“Have something to drink,” she suggests, sitting on the sofa next to me. “Have you had anything to eat today?”

I shake my head despondently. Food is the last thing on my mind.

“You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“And you need to get out of that dressing gown and put some clothes on. It’s four o’clock in the afternoon.”

I know she’s only looking after me, but I’m not in the mood. I’m hosting my very own self-pity party, and mine’s the only name on the guest list. Because that’s all I’ve got left. The tears have dried up, leaving me numb. There’s a bare, hollow crater of emptiness inside me. I have zero intention of changing out of my dressing gown. “I’m comfy.”

Lucy heaves an exasperated sigh. “I know you feel like shit at the moment, but it will get better.”

I stare out of the windows at the river below and think back to the first time Art brought me here. He said people come into your life for a season, a reason, or a lifetime. I hoped he’d be a lifetime. No … I believed he’d be a lifetime. Before everything fucked up.

“The fact that he owns a strip club isn’t the main problem,” I voice the thought that kept me awake most of the night. “I’m not jumping for joy, and it doesn’t exactly fit with my ideal happily ever after, but I think I could just about get used to it. The deal breaker is that he lied about something so big. I’m not sure whether I can trust him.”

Lucy takes a sip of tea before answering, “Do you want my honest opinion?”

I look at her. I’ve been wrestling with my own thoughts all night and day; I need to hear someone else’s view. Even if I’m probably not going to like it. “Go on.”

She settles her mug down on the coffee table. “I know you think it’s seedy, but I believe him when he says the club’s just a business. Do you really think he’s messing about with strippers behind your back?” Her eyebrows arch. “No. He’s not – because he’s got you, and before you, I’m pretty sure he could easily see naked women without having to go to a strip club.”

“Yeah, like at an S & M club,” I point out. “The strippers work for him because he owns the place. I work for him. Getting involved with his staff clearly doesn’t bother him.”

“Didn’t he say he hasn’t been to Savage for years?” She runs a hand through her curls and sighs. “I really think he didn’t tell you because he was worried you’d go apeshit. Not because he’s fucking about with a stripper.”

I don’t know what to think anymore.

A buzzing noise sounds from the hallway, causing Lucy to jump with a start. “What the hell is that?”

“The intercom for the front door.” I prop my head against my hand. I’ve no intention of getting it. It won’t be Art. And I don’t want him here anyway. Do I?

She gets up and walks over to the intercom. “Hello? Oh, right. Yes. Okay, come on up.” She hangs up the receiver. “It’s beefcake Big Steve,” she says, and there’s no denying the excitement in her voice. “If I had known he’d be coming, I’d have worn something a bit better than jeans and an old jumper.”

My stomach knots with anxiety, and I briefly close my eyes.

What the hell does he want?

Voices filter down the hallway, and I hear Lucy giggle as she slips into flirtatious mode, followed by heavy footsteps. Big Steve appears at the edge of my vision, dressed head to toe in black. “Sophie.”

“What do you want?”

“I want your help.”

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “Why?”

“I’ve been trying to contact Art all day, but he’s not answering his phone, and he won’t answer his door, and the bloody concierge at his place won’t let me into his apartment. Art told me he gave you a key.”

“It’s on the counter. Feel free to take it.”

Big Steve pushes his hands into his pockets and shifts from foot to foot, looking slightly uncomfortable at what he’s about to suggest. “I think it might be a good idea if you came with me.”

My eyes snap to him. “No. I went last night, and I’m not going back there.”

He rubs a chunky hand across the ginger bristle on his chin and grimaces. “I’m guessing he was drunk?”

“Very. He’d trashed the place.”

“He’s a different guy when he drinks.”

“Clearly.”

“That’s why he doesn’t drink anymore.” Big Steve smiles. “I think it’ll help him to see you.”

I shake my head and stare out of the window. “I doubt it. Last night, seeing me made him even more fucked off and upset.”“Yeah, but he was pissed. We all say things we don’t mean when we’re pissed, don’t we?”

“I know I do,” Lucy says from where she’s standing, hovering beside the sofa. “Why don’t you go with him? I think Steve’s got a point.”

Trust her. Now, there are two of them ganging up on me.

“He really cares about you,” he says.

I can feel my resolve weakening, and I hate it. He must sense I’m wavering because he goes in for the kill.

“I think you and I got off on the wrong foot. When we first met, I was worried you’d end up getting hurt. Because he hadn’t told you about the club and because he’d slept around in the past. I thought he was going to treat you the same way.” He rubs a hand across his shiny head. “If I’m being honest – and I’m not proud of this … I tried to talk him out of seeing you again. One night, I kept him holed up in the club, to see if I could convince him to end things with you.”

The memory falls into place, and my eyes widen. “You were the reason he stood me up?”

Big Steve gives me a sheepish look. “I locked us in the manager’s office. I thought I was talking sense into him, and if he stood you up, you might finish it with him. He was adamant he wasn’t going to end things with you. But after what happened last night and what he said to you – and I can see how he is with you …” He rubs his hands together. “He’s different. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

The last line of my defence is bulldozed, and if I had a white flag, I’d wave it.

Don’t I at least owe it to us to hear him out before I call time on our relationship? Go and get the answers deserve?

“See, I told you,” Lucy urges. “Go with him. Go and see Art.”