LAD: A British Bad Boy Romance Novel (Bad Boys of London Book 1) (11 page)

“The place has a five-star rating on yelp. It’ll be delicious, trust me.” And with that, Ako stood and walked us in the direction of the restaurant with us hot on her tail.

On the short walk over, Kristen examined each male walking by, still keeping her sunglasses on to alleviate her hangover and Ako consulted her phone.

Predictably, all I could do was hold onto the elusive memory of Felix in that pod. That twisted, cold-blooded devil. He infected every waking thought I had of late. I had yet to fully learn whether I had the same effect on him. Sure, he implied it but I wouldn’t know for certain until the words left his lips. I remembered his breath on my neck, his fist around my braid. His little plan had no precedent for me. I didn’t know what to expect of tonight or what his further plans were. Who the fuck enjoyed following a girl like that? But the way he seemed to enjoy control got me hot so I figured there could be no harm in agreeing to it. He scared me, sure, but not in a threatening way. He reminded me of a dark corner where a creature may be lurking. But when you shone a light, you’d realize there was nothing there to be frightened of.

“Here we are,” Ako said.

We stood beneath a building that resembled a higher end P.F. Chang’s.

We moved to read the menu outside. “Damn, Ako. Are you sure I shouldn’t have worn my Dior?” Kristen kicked at her own biker boots. “Ah well, sorry about this bill, Daddy.”

“The reviews didn’t suggest it would be expensive, guys. I’m sorry. Maybe the food’s that good.”

The upstairs interior of the restaurant was as impressive as the exterior. The beautiful wood walls, floors, and high ceilings had that look of luxury while still being inviting. The tables were all covered with perfect white starched tablecloths and Oriental flower arrangements were placed throughout.

“Reservation for three. Morimoto,” Ako said to the prim hostess.

“This way please.” We were lead towards the windows where the tables had the best views of the river.
 

We each took our seat around the elegant setting and immediately gazed at the murky river in awe. As ugly and uninviting as those waters were, to us it was all perfect— The table, the restaurant, the views, everything. We chatted about our favorite parts of the place so far, about both Ako and Kristen almost throwing up on the Eye thanks to their motion sickness and alcohol-induced nausea, respectively. Even if Felix poisoned my consciousness, it pleased me to know the girls were having as much fun as I was even with my occasional absence from them.

“At least we know that it’s going to be a light dinner tonight.” Kristen’s eyes, large as golf balls, took in the massive menu.

“I’ve already got it figured out,” Ako said. “I found a pie place near the Matilda theatre— English meat pies. Nothing better.”

I almost stopped myself from telling the girls about my date. I had, of course, been the reason we purchase those West End tickets in the first place. Then again, they’d seemed as excited about the prospect of seeing one our most beloved children’s books in live form. And should Kristen protest, I always had the fallback that this whole impulsive decision thing had been her idea.
 

“About that. I can’t do dinner tonight.”

“Why not?” Ako’s brow crinkled.

“Felix,” Kristen said, not looking up from her menu.

“No, I…Uh…I promised my mom I’d meet with an old friend of hers. College friend.” Why did I feel the urge to lie all of a sudden? How did Kristen know? I mean, mom did have an old college friend that lived in London. I had never planned to meet with her. Then I started considering calling her to keep playing along with the charade.

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t want to miss the pie! Or Matilda, you guys. Maybe we can reschedule?”
 

“No can do. A schedule is a schedule.” Ako tapped at her notebook smiling. “Quit hiding the fact you wanna hang out with this guy from us. We talked about it last night and neither of us care. We want you having a good time. Hayley could worry at school. She can’t worry here. Not in London and not on this trip of all trips.”

The waiter appeared at our table. “Good afternoon. My name is Chen. It will be my pleasure to take your order today.” He carried no notepad or pen.
 

“A beer to start.” Kristen traced her finger down the menu. “Then I’ll have the moo shoo pork and rice.”

“Ni-hao, Chen.” Ako said politely. “I’m going to have the Zen Buddha Feast with an extra side of braised greens.” Ako had always been a foodie and it showed in her choices. “They reviewed it in this magazine I found in the hotel.”
 

“Let me see that,” Kristen said, taking the glossy book from Ako’s bag.

As for me. I looked down at my menu bewildered. So many choices and nothing I wanted. I didn’t have a big appetite and whatever hunger I did have, I wanted to save for my date.

“Um, I’ll have noodle soup? Thanks.”

“And three glasses of champagne,” Kristen added.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked.

“The occasion is that our sweet little Hayley has scored herself a babe with quite the assets.” She opened up the magazine she held to reveal an image of a naked man with a seductive under-look, vague dimples and nothing but a silk sheet cover his — ahem — assets, as Kristen so aptly called them. “Felix, Felix, Felix,” she tutted and examined the man who made me crazy a little more intently. “You’re one fine lad, aren’t you?”

“Keep your voice down,” Ako said, taking the magazine back from Kristen’s sweaty little fingers and handed it to me instead. “This is a fine establishment and he is not your guy to drool over anymore.”

“Oh, c’mon. I can still admire from afar.” Me and Kristen smiled to one another. She knew I had first dibs.

I stared back down at Felix sprawled on a bed sheet, promoting the same cologne as the commercial from last night. He had a highly admirable six pack or…Was it an eight pack? I thought to myself, as I perved on his adonis lines and the veins that led down beneath the sheet. Now I had no appetite; Not for food, anyway.

“Chen, I think we’ll split a bottle of champagne,” I said, unable to look away from Felix’s smoky stare.

“Yay!” Kristen clapped giddily and snatched the magazine back for one last look of her own.

— 12 —
 

The champagne at lunch settled my nerves slightly for the remainder of the day. We saw a few more sights from the bus then went on a stroll through Hyde Park. Despite their insistence, the girls still were unable to get me to tell the truth about my true intention for this evening. I built on the foundation of my mom’s friend, even going so far as to point out her balcony on the bus ride through Marylebone that most definitely wasn’t hers. We ended the day sharing a drink until the girls had to part ways to go to dinner and the show. I, on the other hand, spent the final countdown to the most dreaded date of my life getting ready.

I must’ve gone through at least five costume changes, cycling through Ako and Kristen’s suitcases as well as my own. I settled on a classic— The little black dress. Kristen bought it years ago for our high school prom until her mother deemed it too sexy only a half-hour before our limo had arrived. But the way it hugged my curves and flared out right above the knee made it demure on a young woman my age. The well-fitted neckline fell at low enough on my chest that it looked sex-kitten suggestive instead of tarty. I finished the look with a pair of black flats and, of course, brought Felix’s jacket — which I’d forgotten to return — along for the cab ride.

Le Gran Poisson, located in a quiet part of London, looked like Felix’s style. Expensive
 
yet mysterious— Dark, gritty, aware and intimidating. A French bistro interior was dimly lit in candlelight and a red glow from an unknown source. Mirrors on the walls made the place seem bigger than it truly was. I fumbled with my dress a bit, wondering if I had actually decided on the right thing to wear. Maybe the champagne had clouded my better judgment. I should’ve gone more classic, less sexy. I looked far too sexy. Shit, did I have time to go back and change? I checked the time on my phone:

20:36.

I as even a little bit late; No going back now. I swallowed back the doubt and stroked at my flat-ironed hair.

I prayed to not be the first one to arrive. That would only make me seem more desperate than I already seemed. But, no matter how many of the tiny booths and tables I scanned, I couldn’t identify any rough breed.

“Do you have a smoking section?” I asked the maitre d’.
 

“No, madame. No smoking.” He pointed toward a sign and gave me a scolding French look.

“If someone expecting you, madame?” he asked.

“Um, yeah. Felix…Cartwright.”

“Ah, Monsieur Cartwright, of course.” Thank God. “Please follow me, madame. Would you like me to take your coat?”

I snatched the leather jacket tighter like a child whose toy was about to be taken away. “No, that’s alright.”

I followed him until Felix appeared to me, seated on a corner table, his face washed in amber candlelight. He hadn’t noticed me yet, but I certainly had noticed his casual, laid-back seating position as he read seemed lost in a book. He licked his finger and turned the page. It was a Murakami, one of my favorite authors.

“Here she is,” Felix said before he’d even looked up from his page. His hair looked disheveled in a just-out-of-bed sort of way. At least, he dressed up a little bit in slacks and a dark college shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to show off his tattoos and his boots were half-laced, but it all seemed intentional. “Une bouteille de champagne, s’il vous plaît.” His accent sounded impeccable to my naïve American ear.
 

Oh God, he speaks French. Oh God, he ordered more champagne.

“Sit down,” he said. Already, I could feel myself perspiring slightly in a perfectly temperate room.

He finally lifted his head from his book and dragged his teeth gently along his lower lip at the sight of me. “You look edible.”

“You Englishmen are supposed to be gentlemen, no?” The waiter placed the napkin upon my knee and left to fetch the superfluous bottle of bubbles.

“Every man has an indecent mind, Miss Frost. All of us.” With that, he put his book on the table and rested his fingertips in a pyramid in front of him.

“Murakami, huh?” I picked up the book and flicked through the musky, well-worn pages absently. “And what existential crisis did you suffer through that led you to read him?”

A few beats went by and he ignored my question entirely. “You read him, too?”

“Dude, he’s saved my life one too many times to count. I couldn’t imagine having made it through my life without him on my shelves. He was like a silent friend, you know?”

I caught his eye to see him regard me in a way that he knew what I meant. Murakami had saved him too somehow.

“I guess you’re right,” he said, dismissively. Maybe I’d misread the signals.

The waiter returned with a cold bottle of champagne, presented the label to Felix then poured some into both glasses.
 

“Were you going to ask if I wanted champagne or not?” I put the book down and lifted my glass.

Felix cast an eye down to his menu and ignored me again. “Garçon,” he said, “Pourrions-nous commander deux steaks cuits saignant? Aussi, nous aurons deux salades lyonnaise.” The waiter nodded, took our menus then walked away.
 

“Can I order food, too? I gave up the perfect British pie and Tim Minchin to be here.”

“I ordered for you since I am British gentleman, after all. Now, onto the task at hand.” He lit up a cigarette. I made a conspicuous motion to gaze at the non-smoking sign. He immediately brightened and threw me a teasing, megawatt smile. “Relax. They know me here, that’s why they sit me by the vent.”

I rolled my eyes and turned my body slightly away from the table, already feeling a need to ditch this whole idea. “It smells gross.”

“I do recall you did it yourself the other day. But, look, I’m not here to bicker with you. I want you to tell me about yourself, Hay—”

“For the last time, it’s Hayley!” I hissed before realizing he actually referred me to how I like this time. “Oh.”

He took a hungry pull from his cigarette and leaned further forward on the table so his biceps flexed and his chest revealed itself more beneath the few open buttons of his shirt.

— 13 —