Part 17 (2/2)

After the meeting at Fleur and dealing with my father-his disappointment in me palpable even through the computer screen-I needed to escape. I needed a drink. I needed to laugh and let loose and feel free.

More than anything, I needed Caden.

I thought Daddy would be pleased, seeing me there with Violet, working at Fleur even after I gave my notice, but he actually said to Violet, ”What is she doing here?” and that about broke my heart.

Something Daddy is becoming quite an expert at.

Hugh asked if he could accompany us to the pub and I readily agreed, though Violet shot me a look. One that said, You should consider this man. He's perfect for you.

Yes, I'm that good at interpreting my sister's looks. After living with her my entire life, I've become somewhat of an expert.

Talking with Hugh in the cab we took over to the White Swan, sitting snugly against him on the bench seat, Ryder on my other side while Violet sat across from us on the fold-down seat chattering away on her phone, I could sense Hugh's interest.

If Caden weren't around, I could be interested too. Hugh is almost unbearably handsome. Brilliant blue eyes, dark, almost black hair, and a finely tuned body beneath the expensive suit. He's intelligent, good at engaging in eye contact and easy conversation, and he has a nice smile, a pleasant laugh, and a deliciously deep voice with a lovely accent.

But I don't want Hugh. I want Caden. I like Caden. The moment I saw him sitting at the table with Nigel inside the pub, the both of them apparently drunk and laughing and looking like they were having so much fun, my heart leapt. His gaze caught mine and when I saw the disappointment there for the briefest second, the guilt hit me, swift and strong, stealing my breath. Did he see something between Hugh and me? I'd laughed at something Hugh said when we first walked in, and he touched me, but I didn't feel any sort of sizzle, no connection from his fingers on my skin.

Not like when Caden touches me. He looks at me and my knees grow weak. They're weak now, while I'm sitting in the chair next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder, the alcohol buzzing through my veins. He's talking to Ryder about soccer or some such nonsense and his voice vibrates in his chest, I can practically feel it in his shoulder, and I close my eyes and smile blissfully.

”Rose, are you all right?” Hugh asks.

My eyes pop open like a doll's and I sit up, offering him an embarra.s.sed smile. ”Just a little tired,” I admit.

His smile is warm. ”You were magnificent in the meeting this afternoon.”

Hmm. There's a word I don't think anyone's used to describe me before. They usually save that sort of praise for Violet. ”Thank you,” I murmur.

”No, really. Your ideas are very innovative. We need more new blood here in our office, especially American blood.” His smile fades and he leans in closer. ”Fowler blood is especially good, since you are the leaders of this company.”

I really hope he's not trying to b.u.t.ter me up because he's wasting his breath. ”How long have you worked at Fleur?”

”Three years. I came here from Harrods.”

”The department store?”

He nods. ”I was one of the perfume buyers. I started out working in the men's department when I was sixteen. I got hooked into the retail cycle but was promoted rather quickly, and was working at corporate within five years of my starting work there.”

”That's amazing.” I have no idea how old he is and I'm not about to ask, because that would be rude.

”You're probably wondering how old I am, aren't you?”

I feel my cheeks heat with embarra.s.sment. ”Maybe. But that would be awfully cra.s.s of me to ask, right?”

”I'm twenty-nine.” His lips quirk to the side. ”Older than every one of you at this table, I bet.”

”I suppose.” Definitely older than me and Violet and Ryder. Nigel, he can't be over twenty-five, twenty-six, and Caden ... I have no idea how old he is. And that's just weird. Why haven't I asked him? Why hasn't he told me?

He doesn't tell you a lot of things.

Isn't that the truth?

”How old are you?” Hugh asks.

”You should never ask a lady her age,” I chastise teasingly, making him grin.

”Forgive me, madam.” He bows and I laugh.

”I'm twenty-two.”

”Ah, so young. And so incredibly smart.” I see the interest flare in his eyes again. It's hard to miss. He's not being inappropriate or anything, but he's definitely flirtatious. ”Beautiful, too.”

There go my cheeks again. ”Thank you.”

”How much longer are you in London?” he asks.

”I'm not sure.” I'm hedging because I honestly don't know how much longer I can stay here and avoid my father and my job. I need to return to New York. I have things I need to take care of there. The plants in my apartment are probably dead, though Lily just texted me a few days ago, asking if I wanted her to stop by and check on things. I did and thanked her profusely.

Good thing I don't have pets. I got so wrapped up in Caden and our whirlwind holiday romance I forgot about everything but ... him.

”I could show you around if you like,” Hugh says casually, his expression neutral. ”I've lived in this city my entire life. I could take you to the best restaurants-”

”The food here isn't that great, you know,” I interrupt, earning a laugh from him. ”Sorry, just being brutally honest.”

”You're right. That's why if you stick with me, I'll steer you to the best food this city has to offer.”

He's being so nice. If circ.u.mstances were different, if Caden weren't sitting next to me, if I were here on my own and this friendly, handsome, kind man was asking me out I would readily say yes.

But I feel Caden stiffen beside me. He's gone unusually quiet and I didn't even notice. He's probably heard every bit of my conversation with Hugh. I feel sick to my stomach, as if I've somehow betrayed him, and all traces of happiness evaporate from within me, just like that.

”Thanks for the offer,” I say sadly, ”but I'm afraid I have to decline.”

Hugh's eyes dim the slightest bit, but otherwise he appears completely unruffled. ”No worries. Some other time perhaps?”

”Yes. That sounds good.” I nod and slide from my chair, smoothing out the wrinkles from my dress. I don't make eye contact with anyone as I say, ”I'm going to the restroom. I'll be right back.”

I leave the table without another word, not looking back, keeping my head held high as I make my way through the crowd. The pub is full of young professionals just off work, most of them dressed like we are. Suits and dresses, ties loosened and high heels kicked off. Lots of raucous laughter and pounding of their beer mugs on tabletops; everyone's having fun.

So why do I feel so miserable?

Shoving the women's bathroom door open, I rush to the sink and turn the faucet on so I can splash water on my face. It's total deja vu, remembering this almost exact moment from a week ago, when I hid in the bathroom to escape Caden and he followed me in here.

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