Chapter 22 Andrea
Andrea
Wednesday was here too soon. I wasn’t ready.
Processing what had happened in his apartment was bad enough, but with the threat of redundancies too, my head was spinning.
I’d had no mental space to think about how I was going to handle co-hosting a minister, let alone how to bring my “vibe” to his apartment, or whatever it was he wanted me to do.
Liam had sent a car for us—not a Prius smelling vaguely of BO and pine air freshener, but a white Mercedes, driven by a man in a peaked cap. It slid to a stop beneath Harcourt House, and the concierge stepped forward and opened the door.
“Good evening, Ms. Jones.” He nodded at me, then Eliza. “And your guest. Welcome.”
Apparently, our reputation now included arriving in chauffeured cars. Good to know.
I stepped out and slipped around the back of the car to pop the boot.
It was stuffed with all sorts of paraphernalia that was supposed to make the appearance of me living at Liam’s—at least on a part-time basis—more convincing.
We had way too much. I began pulling the bags out onto the street and noticed the concierge hovering.
“Ms. Jones, please.” His lips were tight. “Allow us to bring this upstairs for you.”
Eliza shot me a look. “Told you we should have packed properly,” she muttered.
We’d run out of suitcases and had shoved what we could into grocery bags and anything else we could find.
A pot plant poked out of a take-away noodle bag next to a bundle of new TK Maxx throw cushions in a plastic laundry basket.
It looked a bit wrong here, outside Liam’s place right next to Claridge’s.
Oh well. He’d literally asked me to bring whatever might make this more convincing, so that was what we’d done.
Admittedly, I’d enjoyed buying the worst cushions I could find. Liam may have underestimated my capacity for petty revenge.
“Er … okay. Fine. Thanks.”
I reached into the back seat to grab the pet carrier just as a porter appeared behind me and held out a hand. Mr. Darcy mewed hysterically.
“Thinking the cat might not have been the best move, either,” Eliza added under her breath.
“He needs his meds on schedule,” I said, keeping my voice low.
Poor Mr. Darcy was now on insulin. Even one late dose could be a disaster, and Eliza staying at home with him wouldn’t have helped—she’d never have got the needle in him.
“Anyway, Mr. Darcy will be an asset. No way a man like Liam would have a cat in his penthouse unless he was crazy about his ‘girlfriend’.”
Thank God Mr. Darcy didn’t travel too badly. Well. For a cat, anyway.
The porter smiled and took the pet carrier from me, then stepped back to let us go in. I hoped to God our little furry friend didn’t decide to wee before we got inside.
Shit. Litter tray. We hadn’t considered that. I’d been so distracted. What were we thinking?
The concierge led us to a separate lift at the rear, touched a fob to the panel, and stepped back as the lift doors opened.
“Mr. Roth is expecting you, ma’am.”
“Um … I think we’d rather take the stairs, actually,” I said. The thought of even stepping foot into the elevator still made me feel rather sick.
“Are we sure, ma’am? Mr. Roth’s is on the tenth floor.”
“Andy,” Eliza hissed.
“I know it is. I’ve climbed them before,” I said.
“Elevator’s fine,” said Eliza, looking pointedly at me. She smiled at the concierge and took my hand. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“But Mr. Dar—”
“They’ve got the cat, Andy,” said Eliza.
“We’ll bring your companion animal straight up, Ms. Jones, along with your luggage.”
The doors closed, and we started to rise. “It’s all right, Sis.” Eliza gave my hand a quick squeeze. “You’re going to have to get used to using lifts again, eventually. And we can’t have you showing up all sweaty for your sexy billionaire boyf, can we?”
“He’s not my ‘boyf’, Eliza.” She’d been going on like this all day, and I’d given up correcting her. At least it took my mind off being in a lift again, though. It was taking an age to get there, and I felt my pulse start to rise. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?
Finally, the doors opened, and Eliza actually gasped.
“Wow … Andy.” She turned to me. “Guess we don’t have to muck in with making the salad, then?”
Everything was already done. The long dining table was laid, with a couple of waiters, their backs to us, moving up and down it.
One had his hair tied back in a ponytail, and there was something vaguely familiar about him.
In the kitchen, a man in a white jacket was moving calmly between the stove and the counter. God, was that actually … a chef?
Liam stood in the living room, frowning slightly with his phone pressed against his ear. When he heard us, he turned, an instant smile lifting his expression and knocking at least five years off him. He put the phone down on the coffee table and walked over quickly, beaming.
“Andrea. Hi.” His gaze settled on my face, and he looked as if he was going to say something, but then … didn’t.
“Hi.” I smiled instinctively, then stopped myself, but I was too late. Liam’s mouth twisted up at the corners, and he leaned forward slightly, arms bent, like he was about to hug me.
Nope. Not that, thank you.
I stuck out a hand stiffly and took a small step backward.
The last thing I needed was to be wrapped in his arms, even if it was just a social hug.
I hadn’t been able to get the thought of him in his bedroom half naked out of my mind since it had happened.
Thank God I hadn’t had any further dreams where we were having sex. This man was not my boyfriend.
Now I just needed to make sure my heartbeat got the memo. I hadn’t done very well with that so far, especially since every time we met, I seemed to see another side to him.
“Right. Yes.” His hand was warm and dry, his grip firm.
Like it had been when he’d held my thighs and pushed them apart and—
No, no, no.
His hand stayed in mine a bit too long, his eyes still resting on me. He wore a black cotton shirt, a couple of buttons open at the throat, and his clean-shaven face looked almost boyish.
If it hadn’t been for that look in his eyes …
Next to me, Eliza cleared her throat. “Not at the hugging stage yet, then?” She raised a brow. “I think you guys might need to get over that.”
Liam dropped my hand and laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I … ah—perhaps we do. At some stage.” He extended his hand to Eliza, and they shook awkwardly.
“Good to see you again, Eliza.” He turned back to me.
“The other guests won’t be here for a couple of hours, so feel free to settle in and make it look like home. ”
“I’ve got my dressing gown and my toothbrush, if that’s what you mean,” I said.
“Of course. Whatever you need to make it feel more … Andrea-esque.”
“Andrea-esque?” Eliza laughed. “You mean controlled chaos, alphabetized and color-coded so nobody notices she’s about to lose the plo—Ouch!”
I stood on my sister’s foot a little harder than I’d meant to and smiled tightly.
“Thanks, Liam. We have a few knickknacks on the way up too. If it’s all right with you, we’ll just pop them around and brighten the place up.”
“Please, by all means. Give Eliza the tour. Nothing’s off-limits, of course. I’m just finishing up on some calls.”
Just then, the door pinged, and I heard the sound of mewing. The porter walked into the entryway, pushing a gleaming luggage trolley stacked with our bags and boxes. At the bottom, a very disgruntled-looking cat peered out of his carrier.
“Where would you like these, Mr. Roth?”
“Just here is fine.” Liam frowned.
The porter unloaded the trolley and discreetly slid away.
“You brought the cat?” he said.
“He needs his meds,” I said. “Anyway, Mr. Darcy will seal the fake dating deal. Nothing says ‘changed man’ quite like hosting your new girlfriend’s disabled cat over dinner, right?”
“Right … but … will he be okay here? I don’t have … things for him. Cat things.”
“Not to worry, we do,” said Eliza briskly. “All we need is a quiet room and something for him to poop in.”
“To … poop in?”
“A litter tray, Liam,” I said. “Sorry, we forgot. But any old plastic box should do. And some litter.”
“Right, then. I’ll see if I can get one brought up.”
Oh dear. Liam didn’t look happy at all. I felt a slight twist in my stomach. Was it mean that I’d been slightly looking forward to the idea of Liam playing cat daddy to an animal that clearly made him wince?
Oh well. This wasn’t an ideal situation for any of us, including poor Mr. Darcy. At the end of the day, this was about Liam pulling off whatever ruse he had going with the minister. We were just a small part of that. So suck it up, Chesty.
It wasn’t like we could reschedule dinner with Hugo.
From the kitchen came the sound of something hissing in a pan. Liam turned.
“Oh. Rude of me, sorry. Can I get you a snack? Maybe something to drink?”
“Just a water for me, thanks.”
“Me too,” said Eliza. “Thanks.”
Liam walked into the kitchen, and Eliza turned to me. “Well, he’s clearly still into you.”
“What? Rubbish.”
“Give me a break. The way he was looking at you. We’ve only been here three minutes, and it’s already obvious to a blind man.”
“He needs me to make his deal work. That’s all. It’s just business.”
“Does Gerald’s face light up like that when he looks at you, then?”
I rolled my eyes. The idea of Gerald’s face lighting up for anyone seemed crazy. Maybe if I ignored her, she’d let it go.
“Men don’t look at women like that unless they really like them, Andy.”
“He’s a playboy, remember? Women fall at his feet because he makes them feel like they’re the only woman in the room.”
“Oh, so that’s how he makes you feel, is it?” Eliza smirked. “Doesn’t sound like business to me.”
I huffed. My sister really wasn’t helping. Yes, he’d held my gaze a little longer than he had to, but I knew what players were like.
Or at least, what I imagined they’d be like.
“He obviously behaves like that with all women. Sparkles his eyes at them and makes them go all gooey. I’m not a moron, Eliza.”
“He didn’t look at me like that. Just you.”
Why did that thought light up a tiny speck of joy inside me?
It was beyond naive. Everything was a deal to a man like Liam.
Imagining something that could never happen—and never should—was idiotic.
It was bad enough that we’d already slept with each other.
Now I was letting him get under my skin too?
Mr. Darcy mewed from beneath the pile of boxes. We really needed to settle him in a quiet place.
“Help me with this stuff on the luggage trolley, will you,” I said, grabbing the laundry basket and passing it to Eliza. If I was going to be stuck here with Liam and his posh business associates all evening, I might as well make the place feel more like home.