The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Three (25 page)

“Duly noted,” he smiled, “I shall take all of that under advisement, and yes, definitely we should sleep now, and yes, definitely, together.”

I
t was midmorning the following day, and Darren Hardcastle, hands gripping the steering wheel, was driving his Jaguar through the busy London traffic grinding his teeth. As much as he had pleaded and threatened, his personal banker couldn’t guarantee wired funds would land in the escrow office before noon, so Darren had made him draw up a banker’s draft, and was now racing to the escrow office, envelope in hand. Digby had made it clear that if the funds weren’t in place by noon the deal would be invalid, and Darren thought he knew why.

The seller obviously hadn’t told Sinclair that he may have sold the property out from under him, so if Darren didn’t have the money in place in time, the seller could still continue the sale with Sinclair later in the day.

Not bloody likely,
Darren growled under his breath, zipping around the traffic as best he could.

Just past 11:15, he pulled into the parking garage of the modern office block, and sweating and panting, headed up to the escrow office. He’d made it.

Belle had persuaded Simon to stay with her throughout the morning, wanting to be with him when Digby called to say the money was in place and about to be dispersed. As she listened to him on the telephone, and watched him work on his computer, she was amazed at his ability to focus on other business while waiting for such an important call.

“How do you do it?” she asked as he wandered into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of tea.

“Deals come and deals go,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Yes, this thing with Hardcastle is important because it’s personal, but if I don’t get him this time around, I’ll find another opportunity and try again.”

“But, don’t you want this to be over?” she pressed.

“Of course, but stewing about it isn’t going to change the outcome,” he smiled, “it will only prevent me from being productive.”

“You’re right,” she sighed. “I wish I could be more like you.”

“No, you don’t, you’re perfect just as you are,” he grinned, kissing her lightly.

“I was thinking, once the call comes in and the money is there and it’s all done and dusted, why don’t we meet Joseph and Lucinda somewhere for a celebration lunch?”

“I think we should do that tomorrow,” he replied. “I suspect Joseph may have resumed Lucinda’s punishment, and I already have a lunch planned for the two of us.”

“Really? That sounds interesting,” she smiled, “but should Lucinda still be grounded after everything she did to help?”

“It didn’t change what she did. If Joseph didn’t follow through, don’t you think she’d feel frustrated and disappointed?”

“You’re right, yes, I do,” she nodded, the penny dropping.

“I think some leniency may have been accorded, but it still must have a satisfying end.”

The house phone jangled, and Belle jumped, startled by the sound.

“God, every time it rings,” she complained. “I’m so on edge.”

“Hello,” he answered, putting his free arm around her and pulling her into his shoulder. “Thomas, excellent, what news?”

“I have just received word that the escrow office has wired the funds, minus the commissions and fees, of course, into the S&T Land Development account. The land is now officially in the hands of Darren Hardcastle.”

“How great is that? Thank you, Thomas, for all your work.”

“You’re very welcome, and I congratulate you. That was quite a hand of poker you played.”

“Thanks, we’ll meet up for a drink soon,” Simon promised.

Hanging up the phone, he wrapped himself around Belle and squeezed her tightly.

“It’s done. I can’t think of a deal that has made me happier, except when you said yes,” he exclaimed.

“This is so fantastic,” she squealed. “You have to call Joseph,”

“I will right now, and then we’re going into town to have that lunch, and I’m afraid I’ll have to go into the office after that. Parker will drop me off and bring you back here, but there is one thing I’d like you to do for me this afternoon,” he said softly.

“Anything,” she replied.

“Arrange with the chef to have dinner set up in the viewing deck.”

“Oh! Of course that’s we where have to eat tonight. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Thank you,” he said, kissing her lightly. “Now go get changed into something spiffy.”

It was Wednesday, and every Wednesday Darren Hardcastle ate lunch at The Ivy. He was a man of routine, and though he hadn’t been able to read his newspapers over breakfast, or visit the gym, he wasn’t going to miss his favorite midday meal. It had been one week to the day that he’d met Joseph at the bar, and in that week he had pulled off a huge coup. He was pumped and proud and it was time to celebrate.

His standing reservation was at noon, but his habit was to arrive ten minutes early and have a drink. Today was going to be no different, but instead of meeting Brandon, or another of his partners in crime, he called his favorite escort service and arranged to have a girl waiting for him at the bar. He intended to sit across from a buxom beauty, eat and drink, then take her home and screw her brains out. If she was any good he might even keep her overnight.

To his delight, the timing worked out perfectly. After he’d finished signing papers at the escrow office, then fought the traffic to get back to the restaurant, it was almost 11:50, and as he wandered in, smiling at the hostess, he saw his expensive date perched at the bar.

“Summer?” he asked, swaggering forward.

“That’s me. I bring sunshine everywhere I go,” she twinkled up at him.

“I’ll just bet you do,” he replied, sitting on the bar stool next to her. “Don’t bother telling me what you want to drink, because today I’m ordering champagne.”

“Marvey,” she giggled.

As the bartender popped the cork and poured the bubbling wine into crystal flutes, he heard three words behind him that he couldn’t quite believe.

“Welcome, Mr. Sinclair.”

Heart pumping, he turned around and saw Simon Sinclair standing at the podium, the gorgeous Belle Somers at his side.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he breathed,
he looks too composed for a man who just lost a deal he was so fired up about. He must not know yet. Oh, this is good.

“What is it, sugar?” Summer squeaked.

“I’ll be right back,” he declared, and without a backward glance he strode across the small space, reaching them just as the hostess was about to head into the restaurant.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sinclair,” Darren said formally.

Simon stopped, turned and frowned.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“My name is Darren Hardcastle, and I just wanted to shake your hand. I’ve watched your accomplishments over the years, and it’s an honor to meet you.”

Though inwardly Simon was grinning, he allowed just a small smile to cross his lips as he watched the Cheshire Cat in front of him. It was an extremely satisfying moment, and knowing Darren was a man of habit and would surely show up at The Ivy for his Wednesday lunch, it was a moment Simon had planned.

“Thank you, Mr Hardcastle. The pleasure is entirely mine,” Simon replied, and dropping Darren’s hand, he held his eye for a beat, and in that beat, Darren felt something, an odd twisting in his soul. It was subtle, so subtle as to be almost imperceptible, but as Simon turned away to follow the hostess to his table, Darren felt a faint prickling at the back of his neck.

Just being paranoid, old son,
Darren thought, attempting to shake it off.
Relish the moment. In a few days you’ll be squeezing the shit out of him.

Cheshire Cat grin still in place, Darren returned to his roll in the hay waiting at the bar.

“Simon, you knew he was going to be here,” Belle whispered as they moved through the restaurant to their table. “You are so wicked.”

Simon just winked, but after they had been seated, he beckoned with his finger for her to lean in and listen to him.

“This is a special moment,” he said quietly, “and I wanted you to experience it with me. Look across at him. How does it make you feel, knowing you just played a winning hand?”

Belle stared across the restaurant at the ebullient, crocked man.

“You’re right, it is a…a…wow, it’s an amazing feeling, I just can’t put my finger on the right word to describe it,” she grinned.

“It will come to you,” he nodded. “He clearly hasn’t had a chance to read the papers this morning. Probably didn’t have a moment to catch his breath, jumping through all the hoops to get that money into escrow.”

But many others had read the paper, and one by one, patrons of the restaurant stepped forward to shake his hand.

Having been escorted to his table, and enjoying the sight of the sizable cleavage in front of him, Darren couldn’t understand why the entire restaurant was buzzing, and apparently about Sinclair. Watching the parade of well-wishers approaching the billionaire’s table was not just annoying, but confounding, and he waved at the waiter.

“What’s going on with Simon Sinclair?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, very big news. I’ll bring you The Mirror, Sir, and you can read about it yourself.”

The young man hurried away, returning quickly with the newspaper. Darren stared at the headline, and it took him a moment to fully comprehend what he was reading.

SIMON SINCLAIR, LONG LOST HEIR TO CHATSWORTH DUCHY

His first reaction was one of deep-seeded envy, and a black, jealous rage rose up from his belly, but minutes later the dark discontent transformed into an evil glee, when he realized he’d not just screwed the Duke, he was about to screw his son, already had screwed his son.

Reaching for his champagne glass, he looked across at Simon’s table, trying to catch his eye, and when he did, he raised his glass, smiled and nodded his head. Simon smiled back, lifted his water glass, and grinning back, took a long swallow.

As Darren stared at him, the champagne flute at his lips, he had the same feeling he’d had when he’d introduced himself, and a chill rippled down his spine.

What the hell? Forget it, Darren, old son, it’s your day. Enjoy it.

Turning back to his date, he leaned forward, placing his lips to her ear.

“When we leave here, I’m taking you home, and you’re going to suck me silly, and then I’m going fuck your cunt ‘til your tits fall off.”

“Marvey,” she giggled,
Good
Lord, I’m going to need more than this bubbly. I hope he’s got some scotch at his house.

Belle had watched the toast the two men had shared, and as the penny dropped, she touched Simon’s arm.

“Yes, Belle?” he asked.

“Empowered, that’s the word. I feel as if I can move mountains with you.”

“And you can,” he sighed. “Together we can do anything.”

A
s much as Belle was enjoying the interlude at City View, she was looking forward to their return to the house in Belgravia. She missed their suite, she missed being close to the shops, the park, and the coffee houses, and she knew Goldie would love the freedom of the large backyard.

The afternoon had been spent making everything absolutely perfect for their dinner, though she had made a stop on her way home, inspired by an idea to make their night something extra special.

Twice she had taken Goldie out to run and play in the gated grassy area around the building, trying to rid the boisterous puppy of her vim and vigor. Goldie had been an instant hit with the staff, all wanting to take her out for a walk, but Belle was determined to forge a close bond with the playful pup, and didn’t believe dog nannies would help her cause.

By the time she had showered and dressed, ready for Simon’s return home, Goldie had finally settled and was sleeping on the floor by the bed. Moving quietly into the study, she wrote Simon a note and placed it in an envelope, leaving it on the foyer table so he would be sure to see it the minute he stepped off the elevator.

Y
ou’re not the only one who can leave notes,
she smiled, and hurried to the domed viewing deck to light the candles and check that everything was exactly right.

A short time later Simon stepped off the elevator. The note on the foyer table was obvious, and placing his briefcase on the table, he picked up and tore open the envelope.

My Dearest Simon:

I have been given so many wonderful surprises, and now it’s your turn. In the guest room you will find an outfit I hope you’ll enjoy. Something special to create a special night, to commemorate a special victory, because you are such a special man. I’m waiting in the viewing deck, our special place.

Love and many special kisses,

Belle

P.S. I put everything in the guest room because Goldie is finally asleep in our bedroom.

Charmed and intrigued, and chuckling at the PS, Simon locked off the elevator so they wouldn’t be disturbed, then hurried to the guest room. What he saw when he entered stopped him in his tracks.

Sitting on the bed were chamber garments, lavish casual wear for an aristocratic man in the Victorian era. No woman had ever done such a thing for him, and staring at the unique attire, he felt his heart swell.

A royal blue, Japanese silk smoking jacket trimmed in red with elaborately embroidered cuffs and collar, fabulously outrageous blue and grey plaid trousers, and a pair of blue slippers. Laying next to the jacket he spotted a white shirt and charcoal grey vest. Staring at the clothes from the bygone era, he felt an odd, though not unpleasant tingling, and he couldn’t wait to put them on.

Belle Somers, if this is for me, I can’t wait to see what you’re dressed in.

As he showered, it dawned on him that he was probably experiencing the same excited anticipation Belle felt when he planned similar surprises for her, and toweling off quickly, he began to dress, finding the garments exceptionally comfortable.

“Damn, I think I want a time machine. I love these clothes,” he murmured, and after a long last look in the mirror, he headed to the terrace.