Exclusive Love (British Billionaires Series) (4 page)

      ‘Have you come across a lot of gold-diggers since landing in America?’

Katy wished she had a notebook and pen, or at the very least her Dictaphone. Her cell phone had a voice recorder but turning it on and placing it on the table would not aid her cover. Amused she thought of covertly slipping it on the mantle by the fireplace. Playing it later she’d find snippets of conversation interspersed with the sounds of glasses clinking, staff taking and serving orders, and patrons chatting.

‘Believe me, whether America or England, I can reassure you men like me always come across gold-diggers—whatever part of the world we’re in.’

‘You said you’ve not been here long?’

‘Coming up to a month.’

‘How have you found dating?’

‘Wow! What’s with the questions tonight? Don’t you take a break?’ he asked glibly.

The comment was innocent but Katy realized her tactics were not discrete.

‘Old habits ingrained in me. Curiosity and a genuine interest in people tends to draw one to journalism.’

‘That’s a poetic way of putting it. Generally reporters, especially tattle-tale tabloid gossips have a bad reputation. You make it sound an honorable profession.’

‘It is, but only if the stories are based on facts and reported in a balanced voice. The journalist’s opinion should play no part.’

‘I think, Katherine, you might be the only honorable journalist left in America.’

‘Is that a jibe?’

‘Do you always assume every compliment is insincere? Can’t you relax? It feels like you’ve come to meet me with a massive chip on your shoulder. I thought the plan was to get acquainted, not partake in a verbal boxing match.’

His voice was casual, but Katy was stung.

‘It’s hard to relax around someone who went to great lengths to ensure I knew how haggard I looked when they first laid eyes on me and that my only permit to the bar was because a British billionaire paid them.’

‘I didn’t pay them to do it. If it wasn’t for the steam coming out of your ears I’d tell you with my hand on heart you look a ‘million bucks’ as you Americans say. In my defense you have sat across from me as though thrown in a boxing ring waiting for the bell to ring.’

‘I’m impressed having been here less than a month you have influence over the doormen. As for my appearance, at least I could fix myself in the bathroom. That ginger hair of yours can’t do you many favors with the other sex.’

Acting wounded, Oscar dropped to one knee, putting a hand to his brow. His display was drawing attention.

‘That mop on my head is strawberry blonde I’ll have you know. At the very least it’s blonde with red highlights.’

It was mean to pick on his hair. It was nowhere near ginger. Hoping to knock him down a notch or two, Oscar hadn’t fallen an inch. Responding to her insults with good grace, he climbed higher in Katy’s esteem.

‘That was out of order. Awful on my part. I can’t believe I said it. I was hurt by what you said, but my reaction was despicable. Forgive me?’

Surveying the young girl’s coffee brown eyes, he could see her guard had dropped. Her apology was sincere. Forgetting she was ten years his junior, Oscar reminded himself his twenties were far behind him. Reckless banter could be harmful to a tender ego. He hadn’t considered the impact of his thoughtless bravado.

‘Do you really think I’m ginger?’ he averted his eyes, taking his seat.

‘No way,’ she pledged vehemently.

Reaching over to run her hands through his hair for closer inspection, Katy wondered if Oscar felt the same electricity as she did.

‘Definitely strawberry blonde,’ she assured.

‘All right then I forgive you, but only if you let me apologize.’

‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about,’ she said, feeling lighter in herself.

‘Course I have. I forgot we were strangers. I forgot we weren’t drunk. You don’t know me, let alone my sense of humor. I can see my teasing could be misconstrued as insulting. The last thing I ever want to be is insensitive, certainly not to you. I’ve not dated in a while,’ he confessed.

‘How come?’

‘Broken engagement. New in America. No friends. The women I do meet are interested in my wallet not my stunning ginger hair.’

‘If you want to avoid gold-diggers and attract women appreciating the rugged redness of your hair, rethink your profile. It doesn’t sound as if you’re after anything more than a sexual companion on Exclusive Love,’ said Katy bluntly.

He shrugged, neither agreeing with nor contradicting her observation.

‘Settling into New York has proved difficult. Normally I do short stints in the international offices. With the company my father runs and my qualifications, I’m in the fortunate position to satisfy the wanderlust of my heart. Sadly though, I could be here a while. I’d like some semblance of a social life. I’d like it to be fun, not heavy with continual emotional demands.’

It wasn’t an unreasonable wish.

‘If I’d wanted drama and arguments I wouldn’t have broken off the engagement,’ said Oscar, half laughing, half serious.

‘You said yourself women were drawn to you in droves. It can’t be that impossible to find someone matching your needs.’

‘Wouldn’t you think? It tests my patience to take out woman after woman who blatantly has no interest in me as a person. If it’s money or a luxury lifestyle they’re incessantly after, it does drain one’s confidence. If you choose that type of playboy lifestyle, you may as well sleep with a high-class hooker, because it’s essentially what you’re doing. Paying an exorbitant amount of money to sleep with a woman. The woman. satisfied from the opulence, having enjoyed the night, is happy to spread her legs.’

‘Crass,’ winced Katy at the image.

‘Sorry. My dating experience here has been crass. I never imagined I’d have to resort to online dating to land a lady.’

‘This is a first for you?’

‘Yes,’ he lashed out.

‘Don’t be defensive. The stigma surrounding relationships formed online has changed significantly over the years. Hence the rise of dating websites.’

‘That’s true. Does it bother you to be searching for love online?’

The way Oscar posited the question, had Katy feeling she was at the Last Chance Saloon by signing up for Exclusive Love. She certainly hadn’t utilized it previously. Raised in a town with a population of approximately 15,000, it wasn’t as if there were millions of men knocking at her door. Reminding herself she joined for ‘research purposes’, Katy downed her cocktail.

‘I’m an online dating virgin, too,’ she disclosed.

‘I knew we’d find a commonality eventually,’ said Oscar.

Clapping his hands, given Katy’s attitude and his preconceptions, he’d achieved a huge feat.

‘What now?’ she buzzed.

‘Fancy going up to the terrace bar for a bite to eat or a few more cocktails?’

Katy was happy for him to lead the way.

Chapter Five

Its roof retracted, the balmy air of the terrace bar was refreshing to the skin. It may have been Chanel, but the long sleeved dress in summer made for a steamy affair. A fairies playground, the strings of lights and foliage and vines disguised the room’s sterling reputation. Playing mellow beats, the DJ was matching the tranquil early week vibe of a Tuesday night. Sitting on the elegant furniture, Oscar pointed out artwork by Andy Warhol and Damien Hirst.

Keeping quiet, Katy sipped on her drink as an imposter. Although familiar with fellow countryman Andy Warhol and the pop art movement he pioneered, Katy drew a blank on Hirst. Divulging her ignorance to Oscar, could have him branding her a philistine. Reverting to nodding her head on one side, she faked interest in his comprehensive lecture.

The angle and repetitive motion cricked her neck. Reaching under her long hair, she inconspicuously massaged her neck to remove the knot.

‘Am I boring you?’

‘No, not at all,’ protested Katy, continuing to nod and rub. ‘This music here is unreal though.’

      Using the opportunity to draw Oscar’s attention to the music, she swung her head to the other side to relieve the muscle tension. Her thick flowing hair swaying in rhythm to the beat sent her cocktail glass flying.

The shattering eclipsed the DJ’s musical prowess. Not out of embarrassment, but because she’d paid for the drinks had Katy stomping her foot. Cheaper than the Rose Bar downstairs, the bill had dented her credit card nonetheless. The cost had her wanting to fetch a cloth to mop up the alcohol from the floor. Wringing the cloth into a new glass, she wouldn’t have to waste a drop of the expensive drink

‘I’ll get another,’ said Oscar.

Replacement drinks in Oscar’s hands, the staff had expeditiously cleaned up the accident.

‘If you’re going to pander to my inane artistic ramblings from the knowledge I attained completing an A-level in fine arts at college, you should consider opting for a blank steady expression. Alternatively switch nodding sides as you take a sip of your drink, that way it won’t cause any long term damage to the muscles in your neck.’

Katy chortled in spite of herself.

‘Okay, my knowledge of art is limited. I’m a heathen. I know nothing of painting and art. I love a musical romp on Broadway but tend to avoid plays. I adore mainstream chart music, especially R&B and I actually do love dancing.’

‘In clubs, not ballet,’ he smirked in reference to her earlier hairstyle.

‘Does it make me a bad person?’

‘Of course not. I was drawing on the art chatter to impress you. In fact, I only took the subject to increase my rapport with women. Art is about emotion, and women love emotional stuff. I thought it was an effective choice in my education as a teenager. It made sense. You know how reserved the British are.’

‘What you’re basically saying is, you took a course in Fine Arts to avoid having to express yourself emotionally to a woman?’

‘That’s correct. Does that make me a bad person?’ Oscar mimicked, holding his hands up like a man under arrest.

‘No, but it makes you unusual.’

She raised a hand to block Oscar’s interruption.

‘Which isn’t a bad thing.’

Katy meant it. Oscar wasn’t what she was expecting. Drawn to the fact that he was suave and sophisticated, the model of what a British billionaire should be, she was engaged because he was refreshingly open and didn’t appear to take himself seriously.
If he’s this down to Earth, she wondered, why is he pursuing exclusive rich women?
The question was on the tip of her tongue, but she was too captivated by
his
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engaging personality to ask.

‘I guess that’s something else we have in common,’ he said.

‘What’s that?’

‘Being unusual.’

‘How do you figure I’m unusual?’ Katy was fluttering her eyelids.

‘Who would wear a winter dress in the middle of summer?’

As soon as the words were out his mouth, Oscar knew it was the wrong thing to say. Without a doubt the most sensational woman there, he sensed she was self-conscious and alien in the environment. Airing commonalities had been his way of drawing them closer, but it had the reverse effect. Katy was uptight and nervous. Appreciating cultural difference, he was starting to think his humor wasn’t remotely funny to anyone but himself.

Her awkwardness was visible as she fiddled with her sleeves. Hating her discomfort and bewildered expression, he was puzzled where the confident girl from earlier had disappeared to. Immersed in the confusion of what she undoubtedly perceived as an attack on her dress sense, Oscar was treading on dangerous ground. The lady’s feelings were paramount.

‘Look closely at everyone in here,’ he gesticulated. ‘All in summer frocks. All walking mannequins. You in your classic Chanel, stand out from the crowd. Boldly and beautiful. That’s unusual for a woman in this kind of hangout.’

      Did he actually mean what he said or was he phenomenally skilled in the art of conversational recovery? Upon explanation, the insult became instead, flattering. Katy bought it. Her unconscious fidgeting with her sleeves bought her arms to the table. Fortunately she steadied her nerves before her sleeve could catch fire in the candle. A spilled drink she could get away with. Two accidents and she might as well have the word ‘fraud’ tattooed on her forehead. Katy’s head was swimming. Relating it to stress, the onset of a migraine was edging its way into her head.

‘I think I might need some fresh air;’ she said abruptly.

‘We’re on an open rooftop terrace. There’s plenty of fresh air. Can I get you a water? Are you unwell?’

      Dashing from the table, thankful the bathrooms were clearly designated, Katy felt bile rising. Making it to a cubicle, she prepared to be sick. Grateful nothing was bought up, it didn’t stop the dizziness, nausea or hammer pounding in her skull. Her editor had been right. Katy was out of her league. She didn’t have the skills for the job. Creeping away without Oscar seeing her, then focusing on finding date number two was her optimum shot at recovery. Next foray she’d act on her editor’s instructions. Katy would be prepared for the type of men and settings she’d be contending with.

I’ll write off this date as a practice one,
decided Katy. Call it training for the real millionaire. Slipping out the door, she hoped to go unnoticed. There stood Oscar with a female staff member. A deer caught in the headlights, Katy hadn’t expected the search party awaiting her.

‘Mr. Woodruff was going to give you two minutes before I was to check on you,’ said the antagonistic waitress.

From the tone of her voice, she was not impressed with task Oscar called of her. Raising her nose in the air, she sauntered off.

‘I’m guessing with that demeanor she was the waitress that had to clean up my spilled drink.’

Snorting with laughter, Oscar guided her to the lovers’ bench outside the toilet door to pass her a glass of cold water.

‘As it goes she was. Sweeping up the broken glass, mopping the floor and wiping down the table—a hard day’s night!’

Unbeknownst to Katy, Oscar was surreptitiously scrutinizing her, pondering the reasons as to her sudden departure.

‘I should’ve put on a finer performance when I exited for sympathy’s sake. She probably thought I was in there doing drugs.’

‘I’m sure she wasn’t,’ muttered Oscar, without a trace of a smile.

Checking her temperature, his hand went to her forehead. Tipping her chin back, he checked the color and focus of her eyes.

‘I wasn’t taking drugs,’ she said meekly.

‘I know, but you certainly aren’t well.’

The dizziness that had her swaying now was not related to a pending migraine so much as the fathomless, concerned blue eyes of Oscar. Why had he stayed? Why not wait at the table? Why make ducking out of this date insurmountable? Why make her long to close her eyes to let him kiss her?

‘What are we going to do about getting you home?’

Preparing to be swept up and cared for by Oscar, the reality of Katy’s reliance on public transport cut harshly into her fantasy.

‘Oh, I’ll be fine,’ she said waving a hand dramatically. ‘That’s why I spoke about fresh air. Once I’m out, I’ll be in shape to get home.’

Knowing it was an act, Oscar was confused. Was she trying to fob him off? Had the illness been orchestrated for her to leave early and slip away from his company? Chewing the inside of his cheek, he tried to decide what was best. Frankly speaking, if she wasn’t enjoying his company, inflicting further would be painful to her and humiliating for him. If her need to escape was related to a different set of problems, he’d never forgive himself for leaving the damsel in distress.

‘You mentioned earlier your trip was trying. I assumed you’d had transport complications.’

Whoever aligned this movement in the stars, and Katy knew it wasn’t from her newspaper’s horoscopes, she gave a prayer of thanks. Oscar was going to provide her with private transport. No walking to the subway, no waiting with drunken louts getting the last train home, no prolonged commute. Her pulse quickened, when Katy should’ve flooded with relief. The beating in her forehead pronounced, light-headiness swamping her, the retching from her insides twisting her stomach, Katy passed out as she waited to accept Oscar’s invitation.