Billionaire on Board (7 page)

Every cell in my brain was buzzing until one of them signalled the nerves in my jaw muscles to stop clenching. 

I opened my mouth ever so slightly and there I was, kissed for real, by Ryan Corvera-Fabergé on board of barge Heidi. At Pier 6.

"Get a room, you two," Adolf rumbled, "Heidi has to work again in ten minutes, you can't distract the old girl."

"What does he want?" Ryan asked and let go of me.

"He's kicking us out."

"I see. We need to practise some more, you're still too tense, my dear."

I crinkled my nose.

He took me by the hand and dragged me off the Heidi. 

"You can't stand there stiff as a celery when I kiss you. Corinna will think you booked me for the night."

"Would we have to kiss at all?"

He snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."

"There's still time to call it off.

"What? And spoil all the fun? Come here."

He pushed me against a pylon. "Put your arms around me."

I obeyed. 

Right away I felt the hardness of his body against my own. There was not an ounce of fat on the man!

He kissed me again and I held on to him as if my life depended upon it. I swear, he could have lifted my skirt then and there, I would not have blinked an eye. 

But alas, he did not lift my skirt. 

He let go off me and leaned his head sideways. 

"Better. B minus."

I pushed him away. "I object to ratings."

"I'll give you a break. How do we get to the abattoir? I told the driver I wouldn't need him until much later but he's on standby."

"We can take the tube, it's only three stops."

"The tube!" he gasped.

"Have you never ridden on the tube before?"

"Yes, I have…"

"When?"

"Airports. And there was a convention area in Singapore where they had something like it."

I laughed. "You've never ridden on the tube!"

"Why would I? Why would I go on the tube when I can take a taxi or a limo?"

"Because it's cheaper and very often it's much faster too. No traffic jams."

"Okay, but you'll have to hold my hand and occasionally canoodle me to keep up my courage."

With an exasperated sigh I started walking. 

"I played a lot of rugby in school and polo is rather physical as well. I'm prepared to be robbed."

"We won't be robbed. Come on!"

As predicted, we were not assaulted on our five minute ride to the old abattoir but the train was pretty crowded thanks to the aforementioned tourist invasion. It was a happy atmosphere. 

"Not too bad," Ryan pronounced upon getting off. "But it smelled of fish rolls."

"That's because people were eating them."

"Why would they, when there are so many more delicious things to eat?" He put an arm around me and bit into my neck.  "You have to stop jumping when I do that."

I pressed my lips together and nodded.

How I wished I could have stopped jumping when he touched me, but the voices in my head were loudly debating, demanding my full attention. It went something like this:

'He wouldn't kiss you if he didn't like you. He really finds you attractive.'

'No way, he's only having fun with you. You know exactly how little these things mean to men.'

'He enjoys making you nervous.'

'They all want to sleep with you. He wants free sex and that's it.'

'No, no. He's trying to help.'

'Face it. You're his weekend entertainment. Nothing more.'

'Come on, you'll never get a guy like that. Never.'

'He loves you.'

'SHUT UP!'
all the voices shouted in unison at the last one.

"Where do we meet your friend?"

"Over there at the Coffee Factory. But we're a bit early."

The café was already heavily occupied by Hamburg's stylish youth and those who considered themselves stylish and young.

"Plenty of gays," Ryan whispered. "If you won't be more cooperative, I might change over to the other side."

"What, you're not gay? I didn't think straight men could dress as well as you do."

"Monster," he growled and pulled me close again.

I braced myself and told the voices in my head to sod off and let me judge things as they came up. I was a grown up woman, I could handle him. This shy maiden attitude was really quite silly. 

Who cared if he just wanted to have some fun? I wanted to have some fun, too. The situation was beyond crazy anyway, why not have it all?

With this in mind I really leaned in and wrapped my arms around the low of his back. 

"Hello, there…"  His arms closed around me and we kissed for a minute or so with some abandon. When he let go of me, there was his strange look again. 

"So, was this finally an A?" I inquired with exaggerated playfulness to overcome the awkwardness of his silence. In truth I was ready to faint.

"I think so," he replied curtly.

"JUDY!" A voice yelled into my ear. "Iiiih! That's YOU deepwater snogging in public! How disgusting!" 

Tina stared at us, beheld Ryan's beautiful countenance and went white in the face. 

She was a pretty, petite brunette, always glowing with a nice tan, but right there she looked like somebody terminally ill.

"That's Ryan," I blurted.

"Fuck off…" Tina mouthed, eyes wide open. 

Suddenly she pursed her lips and pointed at him. 

"Show me your passport," she said with her American accent acquired taking an MBA at Yale.

"What?" Ryan flinched.

"Show me your passport! I don't believe her."

He chuckled and reached into his back pocket, handing her his purse. 

"I only have a driver's license and a few credit cards. The passport is in the hotel safe." 

She opened it.

"This is sick. You don't exist."

"I had the same discussion with Poppy Jude yesterday."

She pulled out a black credit card.  "THIS is sick." She held it out to me. 

I nodded.

"I need chocolate," Tina concluded. 

"I believe that can be remedied." Ryan took back his purse. "Look, there's a free bench over there. Why don't you sit down and I'll get you girls whatever you like with my black credit card. If it covers the expense."

As soon as he disappeared, Tina slapped me on the arm.

"Confess. When did you contact him? Did you track him down online?"

"I didn't! He simply stood there at the Deli yesterday!"

"And he agreed to play along, just like that, eh? Come on, Jude, you don't fool me."

"I swear, at first I thought you had played the prank on me and somehow got in touch with him."

"No, I didn't."

"I know, he's here to pick up Myrtle."

"Who's Myrtle? His wife?"

"His yacht." 

"Holy shit. Listen, Jude. Whatever you do, don't sleep with him. You know exactly what's going to happen otherwise."

"Why does everybody think I want to sleep with him?"

"Oh please!"

"I just don't think he wants to sleep with
me
."

"I think he wants to sleep with you right here on this table!"

"You think so?"

"Of course, but you know exactly what happens if you let him."

"I'll get emotionally involved?"

"Yes, you will."

"I'll get hurt?"

"Yes, you will."

I ground my teeth. "Come on, Tina, he's leaving on monday, it's only fun and games and honestly, I really don't think he means business, I'm just his entertainment programme."

Tina rolled her eyes. 

"Since when does male entertainment NOT include sex?"

I said nothing.

"Alright then, go on, let him fuck you. But don't come crying to me!"

"You're getting this wrong, we're only practising to make it look more natural tomorrow."

"Yeah. Right."

"Why would a man like
that
want to sleep with a girl like me? He usually dates supermodels!"

"Because you're the sexiest piece of ass on this planet and you know it. If I were a man I'd chain you to the radiator."

"Why would you chain her to the radiator?" 

Ryan had returned carrying a tray with three cups and two mountainous chunks of chocolate cake.

"I said if I were a man, I'd chain her to the radiator, because she's such a sexy little SOB."

He nudged me. "I won't chain you to the radiator."

"I'm happy to hear it."

Secretly I had hoped he would in some way confirm Tina's statement about my amount of sexiness. 

"You're welcome. Tell me, Tina, what do you do for a living…?"

Tina was sharp as hell but Ryan's conversational skills were right up there; he was parrying her blows with shocking savoir-faire. After an hour Tina announced it was time for her to get back home because she had to finish a presentation. When she departed she threateningly waved her index finger at me.

I was alone with Ryan again and he was hungry. I was not - thanks to the cake and his presence - but we moved to a restaurant in the next street owned by a famous German TV chef. I confess, I wanted to impress him with my knowledge of such things. 

After lunch he called the driver who took us to the big lake. 

My imaginary boyfriend had asked me what else a couple would do on a sunny day like this, so I had claimed we would stroll around the lake. 

We stopped for another coffee at a boathouse bar along the way. 

"Do you have any more brothers or sisters?" I wanted to know.

"You mean apart from Laetitia? Yes, there's Camille. She's three years younger than me."

"I see, you're the firstborn."

"Yes. I used to have a brother. But he died."

"Oh," 

I was immediately flustered and unsure what to say. There are people who always know how to react in such situations. I am not one of them. 

"I—  I'm sorry."

"Happened a long time ago," he said dismissively.

"How old was he?"

"Fourteen."

I took a sharp breath. "What happened?"

"Premature death by Lamborghini. He stole it from our basement garage and made it exactly one mile and a half until he wrapped the car around a tree. He was still on our land."

"Oh my God."

"Yes. I was at Harvard then, so I wasn't there when it happened, only for the funeral. He was eight years younger than me and we didn't have much of a connection. It was worse for Titia, they had been very close."

I was right away overcome by a bad conscience for having told on her. You know, rugby, dope…

"That must've been terrible."

Five second silence.

"Why were you sent to board, anyway? It sounds to me as if your parents wouldn't have minded keeping you at home."

At first I did not understand what he was after.

"Oh, you mean St. Cecil's? No, I wanted to go there."

"You wanted to leave home? I certainly didn't, but I was never asked."

"Yes, it was a way for me to get my A-Levels much earlier.  Even by skipping two classes in Germany I would still have been seventeen, in Britain I was done with it at sixteen. Actually, I only took my final two years in the UK."

"Ah yes, because of the wunderkind thing."

"Hmm. Anyway, that's how I sold it to my mother. The true reason was Harry Potter."

"What?"

"Yes, Hogwarts. I wanted to go to a school with houses, and uniforms, and tutors, and—"

"Especially French tutors."

"Oh come on, I was really in love with Michel. He was cute! —  No, seriously! I wanted to wear a school uniform and walk through wooden archways… School in Germany's not like that. It's all modern buildings and neon lights."

"Did we live up to your expectations?"

"You as in 'The British'? My mother is a Brit, as you know. I have a large English family. You 'British' were nothing new to me."

"Ah, but you're just a half-breed. A muggle."

"So are you!"

"Yes, but the fire of Argentina runs in my veins. I have the entire Falklands war right in here!" He patted his stomach. "Gosh, I think I'm starting to get hungry again. What should we do about dinner? What would we usually do?"

"We'd go shopping and cook."

"Great, I can cook and I get to see your flat."

Tina and Lilly appeared before my inner eye, waving at me with their index fingers. 

"Sure, why not?"

"Would we go to a supermarket?"

"What else?"

"Great, I love supermarkets. I hardly ever get the chance."

It was the first time I drove up to my local supermarket in a Maybach.

Ryan was pushing the cart through the rows with a look of pure concentration on his face and when I observed him, gazing rapturously at the cheese counter, my heart began to play an extremely gooey rock ballad. No, it was not my heart, it was the store radio. Oh please!

He was utterly focused, silently reading out the cheeses' names to himself.

"Who usually does your shopping?" I asked after watching him for some time.

"Hm?"

"Who usually does your shopping when you're at home? Your housekeeper?"

He picked up a piece of Gorgonzola, wrapped in a see-through plastic foil and put it down again.

 "I hate Gorgonzola."

"Yes, me too. Hey, I asked you a question. Who does your shopping when you're at home?"

"Oh." He looked up at me with those dark eyes and absentmindedly brushed a streak of hair from my face. 

"Mainly the Ocean."

Yes, dear readers, I felt exactly like you just did.

Seven

In the end Ryan bought nearly half the supermarket, claiming his intent to produce what he called a "Caribbean Sushi".

The Maybach drove the one hundred and twenty yards to my flat in exactly twenty-three seconds. The amount of goods my imaginary lover had purchased made a pedestrian transfer outright impossible.