Dating A British Billionaire (BWWM Romance) (4 page)

Mother raised an eyebrow. “What kind of job has hours on weekend nights?”

“The only the kind of job that can afford Valerie… and your rate.”

Mother picked up her tea and continued to sip it, ignoring my comment. Frustration built up in the pit of my stomach, threatening to send me into a frenzy. I set my jaw as I glared at her. How did she have the energy to be so cruel all the time? “I didn’t ask for either of those.”

My eyes flashed wide in disbelief. “I can’t even believe you charge to watch her.”

“You’re taking my time. Nothing is free.”

My eyes stung with angry tears. “She’s your own granddaughter.”

“This isn’t about her.”

I cocked my head to the side. “See that’s the thing. This isn’t about me.” When mother didn’t respond, I continued talking. “The longer you spend punishing me for my mistakes, the more you punish her. I am spending hundreds of pounds so that you can watch her.”

Mother turned the full force of her glare on me. “Don’t you dare to imply that you have that job because of me. You have it in spite of me.”

“Everything isn’t about you!”

Valerie snapped her gaze in our direction.

With a sigh, I sat down next to her, leaning into her so that I could continue the conversation without her hearing. “Look, I'm trying the best that I can. With a flat in London, a daughter and a grandmother who’s nothing more than a nanny, what do you expect?”

Mother turned to glare at me. “I expect you not to be a whore.”

My stomach flipped at this. It was nothing out of the ordinary, nor was it anything I couldn’t handle. I stood up and made my way into the living room. “Goodbye, honey,” I muttered as I dropped down to give Valerie a kiss on her forehead.

She hardly looked at me.

I left without chancing so much as another glance in my mother’s direction. I could never let her see the tears lurking just behind my eyes. I couldn’t give her the satisfaction.

Chapter Five - Nisha

Although I didn’t actually have work the next evening, I lied to Mother and told her I did. When I showed up dressed for an evening at a steakhouse and a romantic night on Southbank afterwards, she scowled at me, received Valerie with loving arms, and then shut the door in my face, assuming I was “servicing another client,” when this couldn’t have been farther from the truth. As soon as I left her flat, I stepped on the underground and rode it all the way into central London, South Kensington to be exact. I stepped into the first coffee shop I laid my eyes on and succumbed to my possibly ill-informed desire to down an espresso. As ready for my date with the man I had only ever seen once before, as I would ever be, I stepped outside and sat on one of those picnic tables, trying my best not to look cold in my skimpy blazer, even though it was clearly beginning to rain.

I looked back and forth, people watching, and sipping espresso for at least fifteen minutes more before I saw a black cab pull up right in front of the place. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw the three thousand pound shoes that stepped out of it. I narrowed my eyes, peering closely at the car until I saw my Edward. My heart stopped at his piercing green eyes and his princely haircut. I felt like a mere commoner, sitting there, watching him approach me with his expensive-looking black umbrella and fitting Burberry trench coat. My skin crawled with nerves and anticipation.

“Miss?” He extended a hand out to me.

I sighed as I stood up, wondering how my past self could have managed to play hard to get. But then I remembered that the last time I saw him, he blended in with the rest of those drunken high society members, until he had stepped out and forced me to notice him. I shot him the widest smile I could manage and extended my hand out to him.

He took it and planted a kiss on it, just like a trained gentleman. “Shall we?” he offered his arm.

I took it, mimicking Audrey Hepburn, and followed him to the black cab. He opened the door and ushered me inside, shutting the door behind me before rounding the cab to the other side.

I took in a few, indulgent deep breaths in the short seconds that I was alone then glanced at him as soon as he sat down next to me. When he leaned past me to tell the driver where to go, I got a huge whiff of something that smelled like the most glorious mixture of tea tree shampoo and a light musk.

My head spins just at the memory of it.

“Maze Grill.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How adventurous of you.”

He met my gaze with a fiery one of his own. “What is dinner without a little adventure?”

“How trite of you.” I folded my hands in my lap to stop them from shaking in front of him.

But he seemed completely preoccupied with my eyes. “Why must you be cruel?”

“Is there any other way to be?”

He reached out to me, tracing his finger across the edge of my chin. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “I should have known. It’s all in that devilish shade you’re wearing.”

I took his hand in mine, originally only to get it away from my face, but then I became distracted by just how wonderfully large and rough it felt in my own hands. Part of me wanted to keep them there, but the other part of me, the one that usually ruled the day when it came to dates, and, especially, to work, told me to stand down. So I returned his hand to the place in his lap. “Don’t try to invent meaning where it doesn’t exist.”

He raised one of those bushy eyebrows at me. “Don’t deny it where it does.”

I scoffed, shaking my head at this. Unbelievable.

“What?”

“You make me question my words.” It was the first genuine thing I had said all night.

He let out a dark chuckle. “I thought I was the only one.”

“How could you be? There are two of us in this car, are there not?”

Edward opened his mouth to say something else, but the driver spoke before he could manage anything. “Here we are!” he exclaimed.

I glanced out of the window, having to consciously tell myself not to move until he opened the door. It was pouring down rain now and even though my lion’s mane was frizz proof, I still didn’t want to look like an animal in front of my prince.

The rush of humid air and cold wind greeted me when he managed to get the door open. He extended his hand out to me and I didn’t hesitate to grab it. I relished every second that I spent holding his hand. But then, inevitably, the whole thing had to end for he needed to give the host his name and I could hardly remain clinging to his hand like some sort of untrained woman.

“Right this way,” the man said as he led us down the white-washed dining room. He sat us in a large circular booth, raised on a platform in the back of the restaurant.

I tried my best not to smile in wonder at the fact that I could see the entire dining room from my place in the center of it.

“That is an exquisite dress,” Edward said as he lifted the menu.

I took a break from gazing at the long words long enough to say, “Why thank you. But I already knew that.”

He smiled. “What else did you already know?”

I glanced around the almost empty dining room around me. “That you chose this place, which is hardly the most expensive, or even the best steak restaurant in the city, not because it is your favorite, but because you wanted to impress me by seeming human.”

Before he could say anything by way of a response, a man clad in all black from his vest down to his shoes, approached the table. “Hello, Mr. Worthington. Can I interest you in one of our fine wines?”

Edward gave him a curt nod then replied with, “Yes, of course. Give me a bottle of your Reserve Cabernet.”

The man nodded and disappeared around the back of the booth.

I took note of this. “American wine? Are you trying to seem worldly?”

“My dear, I am worldly.”

“I’m not your dear.”

He gave me a slow nod then returned to his menu. “I understand I must earn that.”

“That is correct.”

He looked up at me with a smile. “You are quite the woman. Where are you from?”

Something about that question made my heart race. I always lied when a client asked, but then again, clients almost never asked, and Edward wasn’t a client.

Why did I keep forgetting that? “London. Why would I be from anywhere else?”

He marked his place in the menu and looked up at me. The waiter came back with his wine and proceeded to pour us each a glass. He tasted the wine then looked back at the menu. “We’ll have two steak tartars.”

When the waiter nodded and walked away, he returned his gaze to me. “Your accent has a curious tint to it.”

He was talking about my commoner drawl, spilling in and ruining everything. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He leaned into me, not stopping until our eyes were mere centimeters apart. I almost thought he was going to kiss me, but when his lips moved next, it was only to say, “Your cryptic responses were alluring at first.”

But I held my ground, refusing to advance myself, refraining from either leaning in for that kiss I wanted so badly, or looking away from him. “And now what are they?” I asked.

“Nothing short of frustrating.”

I laughed at this, taking another sip of the wine. It was good. Just like the restaurant, it held value, but didn’t attempt to intimidate me with false gold. “Well, I like my men frustrated.”

Soon enough, the steak tartar arrived and we spent the rest of the evening enjoying the food and the wine, talking about things like the rain and the royal family.

Chapter Six - Nisha

The next morning, I dropped Valerie off at ballet rehearsals and managed to sneak out for a quick cup of coffee with my boss, Alorah. I downed an entire espresso and started on a cup of cappuccino before I could even manage to face her perfectly curled hair and two hundred pound sunglasses. “Did you have a rough night?” she asked, daintily sipping her tea. She always proclaimed how disgustingly “American” coffee was and how she couldn’t be caught dead drinking the stuff herself.

I nodded. “Somewhat.”

“You weren’t working.” She set down her cup and removed her sunglasses, drawing them back to the crown of her head and revealing a set of invasive, blue eyes. “What had you up all night?”

I was reluctant to say, but I couldn’t imagine lying about it. “A date,” was my short reply.

She raised one of those freshly done eyebrows at me. “A date?”

I tried not to be insulted by her surprise.

“With whom… if you don’t mind me asking.”

Of course I minded. “I can’t really divulge.”

She rolled her eyes. “Drop the accent. I am not one of your clients. That vague answer won’t work for me.”

I gulped, part of me wanting to run from the question and yet, another part of me wanting to face it head on. “It's nothing of note. Just someone I met at a party.” I felt exposed with my more common drawl. It drew a line between me and Alorah that I really didn’t enjoy.

“A party?”

“Yes.” I took a messy bite of my croissant, pausing to wipe the crumbs off of my pants.

“And does he know what you do?”

I could hear the tremble in her voice. The conflict of interest was written all over her. “I haven’t gotten to that yet. We’re only on date one.”

I could almost feel her anger blossoming right behind those eyes, so I did my best to dispel it before it could reach full bloom. “I mean, it’s not like everyone I see will even… It just didn’t come up and it might never come up. No it probably won’t ever come up.” I shuddered to think of how true those words were.

She seemed to find this satisfying, for she dropped her shades back over her face and turned to rummage in her briefcase.

I took that opportunity to take another messy bite of my croissant, wiping it off of my pants long before she could look at me again.

“I have another client for you. It seems that Peter Clinton has reached the end of his cycle. Since I have not received a check from him, I am going to assume he is no longer in need of our services.”

“Did his wife...?”

She nodded, so I clenched my jaw, determined not to think anything else of it. I hated his boisterous voice and the way that he had his way with me with everyone watching anyway.