Starr Fated (30 page)

Liam.

And so I was
left counting the days until Friday.

“
Of
course
Finny’s
broken hearted that you’re leaving already,”
Aoife sighed. “But that can't be helped. He was all for raising a
lynch mob to run Liam out of town, but I told him he must be blind
if he couldn’t see the chemistry between you two. Do you know, he
might be good looking but I sometimes think even if that boy had
two brains he’d just be twice as stupid.”

“And yet there
you were, trying to pair him up with me. I’m sure he’ll soon get
over his disappointment if the number of girls I saw hanging around
him at the pub are anything to go by.”

“They’re just
silly teenagers with a crush because he’s in a band. You know he’s
always liked you, Sera, so he’s really disappointed you’re not
staying.”

“I blame you
for getting his hopes up by insisting he take me to your birthday
party. If you remember I told you it wasn’t a good idea, but of
course you ignored me,” I pointed out.

“Well that was
before Liam the Sex God turned up in person, wasn’t it?” she
smirked at me. “I’ll want a full and detailed blow by blow progress
report emailed to me daily, once you and him get down to taking
care of business.” Her suggestive smile and wink left me in no
doubt what she was talking about.

“This is
sounding more and more as if you are trying to live vicariously
through me.”

“Too bloody
true I am, Sera. Sean and me have been married a while, so you
know, the spark has gone out of things in the bedroom department.
All we seem to do is work too fecking hard to be too tired for
anything other than sleep when we fall into bed completely
knackered,” she sighed.

“Sounds as if
you both need a break. Apparently this apartment Liam’s letting me
use has a spare room, so maybe you and Sean could come over to
London for a holiday? If you book your flights in advance, they
aren’t that expensive,” I suggested. I didn't vocalise my thoughts
that they’d better come sooner rather than later in case things
didn't work out and I had to leave the apartment.

“That sounds
wonderful, but it’s so difficult taking time off when you run your
own business. Who’d mind the shop, cos we certainly couldn’t afford
to employ anyone.”

“Wouldn’t
Aunty Caitlin help you out, if it was just for a few days?”

“Maybe, I
suppose. I could tell her we need to check Liam out, although just
like Nana, she’s as happy as a pig in shit about you going back to
London to be with him.”

“Why is
everyone so happy about it? I’d have thought you’d all have hated
him as a typical arrogant English gobshite,” I said, using the
local vernacular.

“Ah, but he’s
as Irish as you are, isn’t he? Neither of you can help the
unfortunate fact that you had English fathers, but at least you
both come from good solid Irish families.”

“I don’t think
Liam or his brother were really aware of their strong Irish
connection,” I pointed out.

“Doesn't
matter. It’s all in the blood,” she argued.

Ever since
Liam had showed up, he was all my family seemed to be able to talk
about, and it wasn’t helping me to clarify my thoughts about him.
For that reason, I heaved a sigh of relief once I’d boarded the
plane from Cork for the short flight back to London, where I knew I
had a few days to myself before he would be back.

As I sat on
the plane, I still found it hard to accept that they all seemed so
sure that things were going to work out between me and Liam.
However, after giving myself a serious talking to, I decided to try
my hardest not to spoil things by being negative all the time. As
Liam had said, it made sense to try our hardest to make things work
between us, otherwise there was little point in my coming back. So
I should try to graciously accept the help he was offering me,
rather than keep throwing it back in his face. He was only trying
to show that he cared about me, and he was trying to become a nicer
man, although a little doubting voice at the back of my mind said
it was very easy for him to generously throw his money around
because he had plenty of it. Well, time would tell, and once we’d
gone on a few dates together, I’d have a better idea of where
things really stood between us, of how compatible we really
were.

I couldn’t
deny that it was really nice having Greg pick me up from the
airport, rather than having to fight my way down to the tube with
all my luggage. I spotted him as soon as I walked out into the
arrivals hall, because he stood head and shoulders above most of
the other drivers waiting for their clients. He held up a big sign
with ‘Miss S. Jones’ on it.

“Hi, Greg. No
need for the sign, I’d have known you anywhere. Thanks for coming
to collect me,” I beamed at him, happy to see his friendly brown
eyes twinkling at me.

“My pleasure,
Miss Jones. Here, let me take your luggage for you,” he
offered.

“Please, call
me Sera. And I can manage….” I started to protest.

“I think Mr.
Starr would prefer that I call you Miss Jones. And carrying your
luggage is what I do, it’s all part of my job. How do you think it
makes me look to the other guys here if I just stand back and let
you struggle with your bags?” He frowned at me, clearly
affronted.

“Sorry, I
guess I’m just not used to all this,” I tried to explain, hoping to
mollify him. That last thing I wanted to do was offend Greg,
especially since Liam had spelled out to me how important his job
was to him. “That would be very kind of you, thanks.” I watched as
he effortlessly took my shabby suitcase and hand luggage from me,
and led the way to the car park.

Once we’d
reached the car, he opened the back door for me.

“Would it be
okay for me to sit up front with you? Only I think I’d feel a bit
like the Queen sitting in the back all by myself,” I asked with a
shy smile, hoping I wasn’t breaking another unwritten chauffeur’s
rule.

“Whatever you
prefer, Miss Jones,” he smiled back at me, as he opened the front
door instead. He made sure I was in safely, before closing the door
and stowing my luggage in the boot.

Once we were
on our way, I found Greg was a very confident driver, and I soon
relaxed as he effortlessly negotiated his way around the
complicated one way system out of Heathrow.

“I assume
Liam…Mr. Starr gave you the address of where I'm staying? I’m not
sure how complicated the route is…”

Greg
chuckled.

“I think the
car could happily drive itself there, the number of times I’ve
driven Mr. Starr to and from his apartment to either Heathrow or
London City airport.”

“Oh. You mean
he lives near where you’re taking me? Butler’s Wharf?”

“Yes, Miss
Jones, didn't you know? He lives in the same complex, but he has
the penthouse suite.”

“Of course he
has,” I muttered. Why hadn't he said anything about living in the
same place? He’d said the apartment was similar to his, just
smaller, so why hadn't he elaborated? I shook off my annoyance and
asked Greg about his family to divert my mind.

“So, do you
have any kids?” I asked, not divulging the fact that Liam and I had
discussed his personal circumstances.

“Yes, Miss
Jones. I have a daughter who’s just turned four, and twin boys who
are coming up to two years old now.”

“Wow. Your
wife must have her hands full,” I said in awe. “I used to babysit
my neighbours’ twin girls when I was a teenager, and they were
definitely more than twice the work, especially as I could never
tell them apart. And your wife has a four year old to look after
too.”

“Joshua and
Ezra are identical twins as well. Marcia, my wife, can usually tell
the boys apart, but I confess I can't always. But they never fool
my little girl, Freya, she always knows which one is which. Luckily
my wife’s mother lives nearby, so she helps out a lot; she
understands I can't afford to turn down any work I'm offered.”

“That’s lucky
then. It must be so expensive bringing up three young children,” I
sympathised. Part of me warmed to Liam for always asking for Greg
as his driver. I thought it showed he had a kind heart, even if he
covered it up as an efficient business arrangement. There was
definitely hope for him. I resolved never to turn down an offer of
a lift with Greg in future, determined instead to think of it as a
worthwhile redistribution of a tiny part of Liam’s wealth.

Once we got to
Butler’s Wharf, I was glad that Gregg knew his way around the
complex, and was familiar with what codes to enter into which
keypads and which cards to swipe to gain access first to the car
park, and then into the building. Liam hadn't been kidding about
the place having security. When I thought about some of the rundown
houses I’d lived in previously, with rotten doors and windows that
would’ve given way with one good shove, and dodgy landlords who
never fixed anything, I was glad it wasn’t something I’d have to
worry about here. And although I'd been annoyed that he hadn't told
me, secretly I found the fact that Liam would be living nearby also
quite reassuring.

“You must be
getting soft, turning into a wuss,” I scolded myself, as I followed
Greg when he turned left out of the lift on the third floor.

“It’s this
one, apartment 12. You have your key?”

“Sure do.” I
unlocked the door and let myself in, and then just stood there in
stunned awe once I'd walked into the main living area.

“I think
you’ll find everything you need to know in that folder on the
table, but if there are any problems, just call Andrew, his number
will be in there. He’s the Scottish guy who looks after all of Mr
Starr’s properties,” Greg was explaining. “Shall I put your bags in
the main bedroom?”

“Err…yes,
that’d be good, thanks,” I stuttered.

The simple
open plan apartment was totally gorgeous, no doubt about it. Maybe
the décor was not exactly to my taste as it was all bland neutrals
and whites, but I could live with that. The thing that first struck
me as I walked in was the view of Tower Bridge through the large
patio doors of the L shaped lounge diner, which I realised opened
out onto a small terrace that had just enough room for a small
table and two chairs.

Everywhere in
the living area had wood strip flooring instead of carpets, and the
lounge area had a modern white sofa and two chairs, with a small
beech wood coffee table.

The dining
area had a round beech wood table, and four high back beech wood
chairs with white seat pads, which were so pristine they looked as
if they had never actually had anyone’s backside sat on them.

Next to the
dining area was the kitchen, all granite worktops and white
cupboards and brushed stainless steel appliances, and I looked
forward to exploring what was in the cupboards. All my old kitchen
equipment was still back at the student house, and I was hoping
Abbey was going to help me collect the rest of my things from
there. We’d already arranged that she was coming over one evening
to bring my things that she had been holding onto for me in the
garden shed of her place.

“I’ll leave
you to it then, shall I Miss Jones? You’ve got a video entry phone,
so you know you don’t have to let anyone in that you’re not sure
about?”

“I'm sure I’ll
figure it out, Greg. And thank you so much for helping bring my
things right up to the apartment.”

“It was no
trouble at all. I’ll see myself out,” he smiled warmly as he
left.

I continued my
exploration. The bathroom was all white and chrome, with the usual
loo and an efficient looking shower over the bath, all spotlessly
clean of course. There was a large empty mirrored cabinet, just
waiting for my things to fill it up.

I wandered
into the main bedroom – this room had much cosier oatmeal coloured
carpeting instead of wood block flooring. As in the other areas,
the walls were plain white. There was a large double bed with pale
blue striped bedding, and two white bedside cabinets either side. I
smiled when I saw the huge built in wardrobe with sliding mirror
doors, and all sorts of built in shelving and hanging rails - there
would be more than enough space for my clothes. There were no
curtains at the windows, just vertical blinds that could be
adjusted to black out all the light, or be pushed right back to
allow an unhindered view. I opened another door and found a small
en-suite shower room with a loo and hand basin. For heaven’s sake,
I had two bathrooms all to myself? Clever use of mirror tiles in
the small en-suite meant it didn't feel claustrophobic at all.

Next I
explored the second smaller bedroom. Again it had plain white
walls, a double bed with cream bedding, just one bedside cabinet,
and a smaller built in wardrobe. There was also a reasonable sized
beech wood desk and chair with shelving above it, suggesting that
this room could be used as a study. And on the desk sat what
appeared to be a brand new, top of the range, MacBook Pro, just
like the ones the Creative Team used at Starr Capital Ventures. I
felt myself literally drooling over it, but it couldn’t really be
intended for me – could it?

I wandered
back into the living room, and quickly scanned through the
information folder Greg had pointed out. It had all the details of
how to adjust the heating/climate control system, how the various
kitchen appliances worked, and the fact that there was a high speed
wifi connection. But there was nothing specifically about the Mac.
I went back to the bedroom where Greg had left my bags, and got out
the iPhone Liam had given me. I plugged it in to start charging it
up, and then after a little playing around, figured out how to send
a text to Liam.

Expect
you’re busy in a meeting. Just wanted to let you know I’m safely
back in London. The apartment is totally amazing! Thanks for
letting me stay here till I get something sorted
.