Chapter 21 Out of Place #2
“What’s next?” he asks, standing up and wiping his hands on his napkin. “What’s to see around here?”
“Are you investing in a building, or what would be useful to check out?”
“Not a building, no. Show me what you think is worth our time.”
“As you wish, boss,” I say and smile. His expression falls before he wipes his face with the napkin and clears his throat.
“If you want to, that is,” he says, sounding almost nervous again. Another very un-Mark-like reaction. “I realise this might be quite the imposition on your plans for the day.”
I contemplate it.
This is my out.
Do I really want to spend my Saturday with the CEO I very much shouldn’t be on the wrong side of? But he seems so normal. Nice, even.
I’m curious about him now. This tentative, playful Mark has me wondering what else he’s hiding.
He turns around, raking a hand through his styled waves that look silky soft, as if he’s giving me a moment to think.
And there’s his arse in chinos.
Holy Mary and Joseph on a cracker, that is one hell of an arse. “Oh my God,” I whisper, and he swivels back.
I shift my gaze, but now I’m stuck in his hazel eyes and my cheeks are burning hot. Did he hear that?
He clears his throat, clearly pretending he didn’t catch me checking him out.
“Umm, I’ll show you around,” I say. What I really want to do is ask why. Why is he here? Why is he asking me of all people to show him around?
“Alright, so what’s next?” he says, putting a stop to my busy thoughts.
I take him to the pub in the park and watch him struggle to put that big frame of his into a narrow booth while balancing a pint of beer.
I can’t stop laughing, and I’m lucky (and surprised) he’s got a sense of humour, because he chuckles, although he seems to be holding back.
I’ve yet to see him break into a full smile.
Then I show him the walkways along the canals, and his stocky bodyguard lurks behind us, making passers-by stare back and forth between us and him.
A group of teenagers whisper ‘is he a spy?’ and ‘is she famous?’, which makes me laugh so hard I almost fall in the canal.
But, true to his current status of lovely gentleman, Mark catches me before I do.
Back at the market, he pulls out a bundle of crisp ￡50 notes to pay for an éclair. The lady at the stall stares at him and shakes her head until I give her a scrunched-up old fiver instead.
“She probably thought you’re a drug dealer,” I tell him when we stroll towards his car, and I lick the caramel off my fingers.
“Why?”
“Only drug dealers and old ladies have cash like that.”
“And billionaires,” he says with a glint in his eye. “Although I don’t normally carry cash anymore, I just thought I’d need it for the market.”
I stare at him. Is this really happening? I should be curled up at home with ice cream, sad that the man I’ve felt the strongest chemistry with has stood me up. Instead I’m here, listening to Mark Becker joke around.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, and stops as we’ve reached the end. The shiny Bentley is parked up along the canal and has three parking tickets on it.
“I was meant to meet someone today,” I say, looking up at him. He finishes the last piece of his éclair, and I follow every finger into his delectable mouth.
No. Not delectable. Not looking at his mouth.
Alright, vagina, when I get home, you and I are having a very serious conversation. Bad vagina. Bad.
I shake it off, and he wrinkles his brow at me.
“Did I keep you from them?” he asks, licking another finger.
“No, he didn’t show.”
I can’t hide the sadness that washes over me now and bite my lip before it starts trembling. I kick a pebble on the ground, watching it skip across the cobbled street and into the canal.
“Tell me who he is and I’ll have him tortured, if you wish.”
The laughter swells up in me and bursts out louder than I intended. “Thank you, I will remember that if he turns out to be married or something,” I answer, wiping a laughter tear from the corner of my eye.
When I look up at him again, he stares at me with such intensity it kills the echo of my laugh in my throat.
What did I say?
The moment stretches out. I open my mouth to say goodbye, but he beats me to it.
“Would you want to come with me to my neck of the woods?” he says, opening the car door to a massive backseat.
Okay, that’s not what I expected.
“I have to go and say hello to an old friend, and you can tell me more about this wanker.”
“I…” I look at the car, then at him. He’s just being polite, right? Just paying me back for today? “Are you sure? I don’t want to get you into trouble for hanging out with an employee.”
He can’t be seen with me like this. I know what people would think.
“Right,” he says, shaking his head. “Of course. I mean, it would just be friendly, and I could make sure no one would see us together. I—” He breathes in deeply. “Sorry. You’re right. Thanks for today, Rosemary.”
“Please call me Rey,” I say. It feels too wrong after today, hearing him say that name.
“Rey,” he rumbles, and my stomach erupts in butterflies at the sound of it. Bloody hell, I’m all over the place.
He drops into the seat and closes the door.
The driver rips the tickets off the front and throws them in the rubbish bin.
I scoff. Rich people.
I turn and slink away, letting my arms drop.
What a weird day. My heart feels heavy.
Here I was, hoping to meet Robin, and I’ve spent hours with my CEO instead. The day flashes before my eyes; his tentative smile, those forearms, the way he licked his fingers, how those eyes gleamed when looking at me.
I want more of it and it’s so weird, because it actually doesn’t feel weird. It all felt natural. I can’t believe some of the things I said today. Hanging out with Mark was almost … relaxing?
Can we be what he said? Friendly?
I turn and rush back to the car that’s luckily still there and knock on the window. He cracks it open, his eyes crinkled in a playful look.
“You knew I’d change my mind, didn’t you?”
“Not at all,” he says, stifling a smile, opening the door.
Arrogant arse. But I like it and I really shouldn’t.