Dating A British Billionaire (BWWM Romance) (3 page)

This was a campaign thing.

“Oh.” I couldn’t help but let this slip out of my mouth before I took my seat at the head of the table.

As soon as my butt hit the cushion of the chair, Peter leaned in. His face was looking much pastier and his eyes held a severe glow to them, now that he was sober. “Let’s go over the pros and cons of you.”

I sucked in a deep breath. I was the one who said I wanted to make an actual difference, who wanted to fund my own campaign so that I could make my own decisions. All of that could go to shit in a second if I didn’t follow that up with action. So I tried my best to hold in my pride then listened up to whatever list they had prepared for me.

Bridget stood up, straightened out her pencil skirt then made her way to the portable white board situated in the front of the room. She cleared her throat then opened with, “Now the fact that you are rich is both pro and con.” Her voice shook as she wrote this on the board with conviction.

There were nods of understanding, and a couple of nods of disappointment.

I scoffed. “Only on the campaign trail is this ever both a good thing and a bad thing,” I muttered.

It was meant to be a joke, but only a couple of people laughed.

Felix leaned into me, a severe expression on his face. “But do you understand what she’s saying, mate?”

I shrugged. “I’m rich, so I can fund myself. I can make my own decisions. But I’m rich so they’ll think I can’t relate to the… not so rich. They’ll think I vote in favor of the rich.”

“Right,” Felix replied.

“We have to play on your strengths. The only way to do that is to highlight what makes you unique in the race. And what makes you unique is your money.”

I furrowed my brow. “So are we running on this or not?”

Felix let out an uncomfortable cough. “Why don’t we table this for the moment?” he asked.

I sighed. “Okay, Bridget. What’s the next thing in the ledger?”

She nodded and turned back to the board. This time, she did not mention what she had written.

“Marriage,” Felix and Peter uttered at the exact same time. They turned to face me as the word began to fly around the room.

I glowered at Felix. He knew I hated this word. I hated the mere concept. The whole idea that society could decide that I should spend my whole life with one woman drove me half mad. That was the last thing I saw myself doing. A family? I’d sooner adopt four dogs. “What is this about?”

“This is a con,” Bridget declared, as if that weren’t already apparent.

“So, what do you expect I do about it?” I demanded.

Felix sighed. “Stop taking this personally, Ed.”

“I’m not. I just don’t understand what the meaning of this is. I’m not married, nor am I engaged to be married. So I don’t know why this is even a topic of discussion.”

“I think  it’s meant to draw attention to the fact that you need to somehow come off as a family man… or, at the very least, a human being if you want to win over a large portion of the adult population.”

I could feel the bile building up from deep within my stomach. It burnt at my esophagus and threatened to release itself. The last thing I wanted to think about was “the vote” judging me because I hadn’t managed to “find love” yet. “And how do I do that?”

Felix frowned, as if he knew something he was afraid to divulge.

“Spit it out!” I snapped.

He huffed out a quick breath before he uttered, “Well, you need to start seriously dating someone… and fast.”

I cocked my head to the side.

Felix shook his head and placed a hand on my shoulder, as if this was supposed to calm me. “You need a real woman. One you might just marry.”

I sucked in a deep breath. “After what happened last time?” I demanded. It was more a plea than anything else: please remember that disaster that was my last relationship. Please don’t forget that total psychopath she had morphed into. Please draw attention to the fact that I am still dealing with the media fallout from all of that. “I’m not interested in being destroyed every way a man can be.”

Felix nodded. “Look, I know. Believe me, I remember. But that doesn’t mean we can’t at least try.”

I huffed out a deep breath. My skin crawled at the thought.

“What about that girl; the one with the number?”

I furrowed my brow. I’d only taken it because I wanted to speak to her again, or maybe even see her again. I hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

“Remember uni…” Felix muttered. “You have to try.”

I pursed my lips. He was right. There was no way I could give up on all of this over a girl.

Chapter Four - Nisha

I always loved getting dressed for my clients with the sound of Valerie’s cartoons playing in the background. When all you have is your job and your daughter, it is often necessary to remind yourself which one is more important. As soon as I walked out of my front door, I had to be whatever my client needed of me. I was no longer myself, but a reflection of the client: his needs; his insecurities; his dreams. Whatever was in my head, it didn’t matter. It was easy to forget that I was more than a reflection of someone else, but listening to those cartoons helped me remember, so that’s what I did as I prepared for yet another evening with Peter.

He had planned to take me to the opera, which I had pretended to be interested in when he brought it up on our first date. He mentioned something about the best singer in the world and an award winning set designer, but I assumed this was all fluff. So I responded with false excitement and admiration so that he would feel better about himself. I covered myself in lotion to ward off dry skin before I stepped into a midnight blue gown. After an hour spent washing, blow drying and pressing my hair, I had finally managed to pull it up into a bun at the top of my head, a baby tiara accenting the dark updo.

It was as I struggled with my diamond bracelet that I heard my phone vibrate on my night table. I was sure that it was my madam, that I had forgotten something gravely essential to this outing. But I hesitated when I laid eyes on the strange number.

As soon as it stopped ringing, I walked away from the phone and back to my mirror, taking a curling iron to the bits of hair I had left out. I had only finished with one lock of hair before I heard the vibrating yet again. Assuming it was my mum with a new number on account of having lost her phone for the third time that year, I answered, pressing it to m year. “Yes?”

“Is that really how you answer your phone?”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar. “Who is this?”

“Oh God. I’m crushed.”

I couldn’t help but giggle at this. “Don’t be surprised that I don’t remember you.”

“And how is that? Here I was thinking I was the only thing in the room.”

“Don’t be cryptic with me.” I was starting to get a vague idea.

“Is there any other way to be?”

“You could start with a name.”

“Names are for squares.”

“And what are you? Irregular?”

A chuckle filled the earpiece. “Don’t be clever.”

I stood in the center of my room. With my heels on, makeup finished and hair sprayed into place, there wasn’t anything left for me to do but to leave. But this unknown voice from the other end of the line was difficult to turn my back on.

“Tell me who you are.”

“Why don’t you try to remember.”

I could tell he was smiling. “It’s vague. Were you a client?” It was not customary for them to call me on my phone… but every once in a while…

There was a pregnant pause.

One that made me think he hadn’t been a client at all.

“A client for what? What do you do?”

I was losing my patience. “Is this a prank, because I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“No of course not,” was his hasty response. “I just found your number on an old napkin and I thought it couldn’t hurt...“

“To call.” With a crashing awareness, I remembered who it was. I had kept my own copy of his number in my kitchen drawer, right next to the knives.

“Ah… so you remembered.”

I picked up my clutch purse and began to stuff it with essentials. “It’s been almost a week. I was beginning to think that you had forgotten all about me.”

“Oh darling. That is simply an impossible thing.”

“Well, what with the campaign...“

“Oh, you saw the speech?”

“Everyone did.”

There was another pause during which I wondered whether I was being entirely too boring and considered trying a little harder. But what else was there for me to say? How could I spice myself up without sounding like I was trying too hard?

But he spoke again before I could think too seriously about it. “So yes. I have been busy with the campaign. My betters are drawing up a platform. But I woke up this morning wondering if I was ever going to see you again and the uncertainty of it all made this conversation essential.”

I let out a playful chuckle. “Are you trying to save me from Peter?”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

One look at her watch told Nisha she was rapidly running out of time. “Look, you should really set a date.”

“How forward of you.”

“I don’t have time to wait.”

“Tomorrow, then.” He sounded so firm, I could almost hear him penciling it into his schedule as we spoke.

“Tomorrow.” Then I hung up, because something told me I should have ended the conversation on my own terms, considering he had started it on his.

I stowed my phone away with the rest of my things in my clutch then made my way out into the living room, where I shut off the telly. Valerie glanced up at me like I had kicked a kitten. “Mum!”

I nodded towards her jacket and the door. “We’ve got to go. Get your shoes on.”

She stood up, but frowned and refused to move. “Just five more minutes!”

I shook my head. It was always something with her. Always something. She was entirely incapable of doing anything on anyone’s terms but hers. “No, Valerie. You know the drill. We have to go.”

“But grandma never lets me watch at her place.”

Seeing as she was never going to do this herself, I dropped my clutch, lifted her trainers off the kitchen floor and bent down to put them on her. “You are impossible. You know that?”

Valerie did not respond to me, but continued to stare longingly at the TV. “I just don’t understand why I can’t just stay with you.”

I finished lacing her shoes then lifted her off of the couch. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I grabbed her hand, picked up my clutch and led her out of the apartment, being sure to remember to grab her jacket as well. The walk to my mother’s flat was a short one. She lived in the small flat she bought when she first met my father, before I was even thought of. My lips turned down into a frown as I beheld the sight of the tired building that had failed to change, even slightly, since I moved out of it as a teenager. Dropping Valerie off every week was like a trip down memory lane.

My knock on her door echoed throughout the hallway. “Stop fiddling.” I unzipped Valerie’s jacket as I waited for my mother to make her way to the door.

In the next second, my mother yanked it open, an old woman with sagging, leather-like dark skin. She was draped in a large floral dress. Part of me just knew she had spent the whole check I had given her, for it looked like it had cost at least seven hundred pounds at Marks and Spencer. “Mother.”

Her brown eyes scanned me from head to foot. “Well aren’t you a princess.”

Valerie had already begun to squirm her hand out of mine, so I let go of her and she wrapped her little arm around Mother’s legs.

“If only she could be this excited to see me.”

Mother shot me a scowl before turning and walking into her flat, leaving the door for me to lock behind me. “Well that’s only on account of the fact you’re gone as quickly as you come.”

I huffed, locking the door behind me and stalking into her living room. Valerie had already made herself comfortable on Mother’s couch. She lovingly petted the black cat, who seemed to have just settled into her lap. “I have a job.”