LAD: A British Bad Boy Romance Novel (Bad Boys of London Book 1) (4 page)

While she became distracted with getting the waiter’s attention, I continued my survey, this time taking a chance to look over my shoulder.

Over by the fountain, three young girls sat at a small round table taking tea. They were barely in their twenties, all cute, all definitely American. They giggled and conversed in a decibel higher than us Brits that made them easy to find in a crowd. I admire them one-by-one in the sleazy way I do— The petite Asian girl dressed in the blue cable-knit sweater stood and walked off toward the bathrooms. A girl with dark brown hair, Doc Martens, and sexy eyes trailed after her. Then the final one, whom, to be honest, looked oddly familiar remained seated at the table staring awkwardly around the room. I watched as she looked at her phone then put it back down, then took it out again and put it down. I smiled to the room.

“Right, so where was I?” Maggie continued and I turned back to her.
 

“You were talking about career options,” I helped, having a good ear for picking out important words to make it seem like I’d listened.

“Of course, so Miss Geoffries loved your portfolio…”

I scooted my chair around our table slightly so I could regain the view of the girl I’d been admiring. Being over there alone made her uncomfortable. I studied her further. Her attire was pretty and fit in well here. The white, off-the-shoulder dress she wore was respectable but strangely attractive in its simplicity. Her hair, long, wavy and strawberry blonde blew with the breeze as someone opened one of the French doors beside her. She bit her lip and pushed a loose strand behind her ear. A virgin, for sure. My cock pulsed. Good God. Why did I have an irresistible urge to stand up, walk over and talk to this girl? Not flirt, not fuck, but just…talk to her.

“Felix, dear, it’s time to quit staring at the pretty girls and listen to what I’m saying. All of this is quite important. Your Uncle is tremendously concerned.” Aunt Margaret took my hand and looked into my eyes to await a response or some sense of acknowledgment.
 

“I’m listening to every word, Maggie, it’s only that…excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.” With that, I abruptly alighted from the table and made my way in the direction of the girl in the white dress.

On my way, I gave the blonde waitress an assured tap on the arse and cheekily remove the small silver dish filled with the fancy berry preserves from her tray. “Thank you, doll,” I said. “I owe ya.” She giggled, blushing bright crimson as I walked away.
 

The two other girls had returned from the Ladies’ Room, giving me two back-ups should the others not be too keen. Making my way over to them, the attractive one in white’s beauty struck me, her reddish-blonde hair now in a tight braid over her shoulder. How I’d love to grab hold of that braid and give it a pull.
 

“Pardon my intrusion, ladies,” I began, standing over their table. “I couldn’t help but notice that you were given the preserves in the ceramic ramekin. Unfortunately, that would be the canned jam that they give out to tourists. I believe it’s the fresh jam in the silver dish that you think you’re paying for.” With that I placed the dish onto the table and made eye contact with each, being sure to gaze at the strawberry blonde last, and with keen intention.
 

“Um, thank you?” The dark haired one raised her eyebrow and gave me a pursed-lipped smile.

My gaze lingered there on the third a moment longer. Her eyes were sea-green and I became transfixed by them, giving credence to the moment and allowing myself the time to study the freckles in them. I felt a strong impulse to grab her arm and direct her to my room instantly, but of course, that would be unbecoming. English boy’s were expected to have some semblance of decorum.

“Well,” I started. I could feel my jaw clench ever so slightly as I took in the sight of her collar bone and neck. I wanted to take them between my teeth and nibble at that delicate skin. “You ladies have a lovely afternoon.” All three seemed to be gobsmacked, but I simply turned away and went about my business. Seeing young ladies trapped in awe had, unfortunately, become trite to me at this point. This feeling nagged inside of me. I snarled to myself, hating that this American girl had got into my head. I rarely put much effort into scoring someone, but this girl was fit and gorgeous and part of me believed she deserved every ounce of my energy.

I went to the loo for a number of different reasons; the main reason being something that couldn’t be uttered to my sweet Auntie. After relieving myself, I needed to pay my respects to Herbert, the bathroom attendant who might as well have been dressed in coat and tails for the outdated formality of his post. Herb was an old friend of mine. Someone I could confide in. Though, due to his lack of spoken English skills, I don’t know how much he actually understood. Aside from being a valued acquaintance, Herb also managed to occasionally have the ability to supply me with my favorite vice. I tended to avoid buying from him to keep him from getting in trouble, but I’d grown desperate today.

Upon my reaching the sink embedded in fine granite, Herb met me at a stand with fresh linen to dry my hands. “Felix,” he said and provided a breath mint and some hand lotion as well. “How vas yo’ trip?”

“Yeah, good, man. How’ve you been holdin’ up? Is Julia doing better?” I referred to his wife who’d recently fallen ill after the birth of their child.

“Yes, she is okay. We have lots of care from the hotel.”

“Oh, good, good. Well, look, I can’t chat long today but I heard there might be some snow tonight?”
 

His eyes dropped to the floor and he walked to his closet. After some rummaging, he handed me a small envelope, and no other words were spoken about the transaction.
 

“You look well, sir.” He smiled. “I talk to you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Herb. What would I do without you?” I said as I placed the envelope in my jacket pocket.
 

“Have far less fun, sir.”

I smiled widely and decided to receive some valued Herbert advice. “Herb, look, there’s a table of young ladies out there. How might one go about getting the names and residences of fine looking American girls without appearing to give a shit?” I asked calmly.

“You ask me for this advice when you not need it.” Herbert straightened the collar of my leather jacket. “Last week, you do this and you do good.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Who, the French birds?” That had been quite a different matter entirely and required little effort on my part to get them from the Tea Room to the bedroom. “Easy game, mate. These girls are gonna be tougher to crack and require a little more tact.”

“Luisa gives you names, sir. It’s not too difficult,” he said as he wiped the counter clean.
 

“Right.” I paused. “But what if they’re not staying at the hotel?”

“Then you chase them. Now, go.”

****

At the hostess stand, I made sure to give another glance over to the table to make sure the girls were still there. Sure enough, they were taking their time with their tea cakes and sandwiches, laughing. I wracked my brains for why I recognized White Dress initially. Had it been in LA, maybe? Or the gig last week? Where had I seen her before? Auntie still sat at our little table, fretting. I had to let her wait while I tried to solve this. Perhaps that would be an in for my introduction. But that line would sound so cliche and I’m not about that.

“Luisa, might I ask a favor?” I asked, staring intently into her eyes. I knew this would have the desired effect on her.
 

“Why, of course, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Felix, please. My uncle is Mr. Cartwright.”

“Alright,” she said. “Felix it is.”

“I might know one of those young ladies at the table in the corner there. Might you have a name in your ledger to help jog my memory?”

“Let me see.” She scanned her book and pointed to the name. “Yes, Hayley Frost was the name on the reservation but don’t tell anyone I told you so. And, curious — perhaps it’s coincidence — but when they first came in she did inquire about your uncle.”

“She did?” I said. Oh, shit. Could she be a distant cousin of mine? Maybe one I’d met at a reunion years ago and forgotten about. I don’t know how I’d live that down should that be true. “Strange.” I studied the name further and glancing at the table again. I couldn’t recall a Frost in our family, nor do I think I had any American relatives. I decided to leave the matter for now and inquire further with Eddie as to why she wanted to see him. Perhaps she’d planned to meet up with him another day and I’d have a chance to see her again. I finished up tea with Maggie and made my way back to my suite.

Later that evening, lucid from the few lines of cocaine and jamming on my guitar, I pieced a few clues together. I stepped over to the misclaimed suitcase I’d collected from the airport. There on the side was a tag.

“Fuck me.”
 

My mind replayed the events of yesterday from taking the first piece of luggage that looked like mine, to feeling grim from coming down off my Vegas coke binge, to going to the pub for a pint…The pub! The girl at the bar who caught my eye, that was Hayley. We’d stared at each other a moment then until she looked away, seemingly disinterested in the grungy mess I probably appeared to be. I’d grown too tired from the flight to try any harder and left.

And now I had her suitcase.

Should I’ve dared looked inside to discover more of my enchantress?

— 5 —
 

“That’s him,” I said with urgency and a sudden impulsion to burp or throw up. “I can’t believe it.” I’d built him up into this demigod in my head overnight so much that he made me more nervous today than he should. Why do I always have to do that when a guy takes my fancy?

“Well, yeah, it’s him,” Kristen said. “Who could miss those muscles?”

“I mean, damn, girl. When you guys said he was cute…I…I underestimated by a long shot,” Ako added.

“And the thing with the jam in the silver bowl. Oh, the jam!”
 

“Keep your voice down, Kristen,” I breathed.

“Did you see how he looked at you just now?” Ako added and tried to hide a coy smile behind her tea.
 

“You guys, seriously stop. I’m about to have a panic attack.”

Hottie stood at the hostess stand, no doubt making her heart pound as he made mine. In this new light outside of the airport bar, he looked even more gorgeous and disheveled and sexy to all hell. My head swum with what-if’s and maybe’s, fantasies I shouldn’t even consider. It became hard to look at him standing there, leaning on the stand with his hip cocked and the tattoos, the black nail polish, the sleek, edgy style. And those piercing blue eyes.

“Unbelievable.”

“Ha! What was that, babe?” Kristen said.

“I said that out loud, huh?” We suppressed our girlish giggles.

“So, tell me again how you know it’s his suitcase, again?” Ako asked with a cucumber sandwich in her mouth.
 

“Um, hello? Aside from the coincidence that he’s, um, here in the hotel guys. What are the chances of that? Plus the clothing is, I mean…” I gestured over to him. “Look, it’s his. The black nail polish. The t-shirt. My Spidey-Senses are tingling here.”

“I think you’ve mistaken Spidey-Sense tingling for another kinda tingling, babe.”

“Kristen, don’t be gross,” Ako sipped daintily on her green tea as she studied him too. “Why don’t you go up to him then? Tell him you have his bag if you’re that sure about it being his.”

“Um, heck no.”
 

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird now he’s come over to us. Think about it— I saw his face, I’ve obviously been watching him like a hawk since he got back from the bathroom. What am I supposed to do? Say ‘Hey, sorry that I’m so creepy and didn’t say this earlier but I have your bag and I went through all of your belongings and then stalked you because I find you cute. And, oh yeah, the bag’s back at my motel.”

Kristen looked at me perplexed. “What’s wrong with that scenario? Not only have you appeared like a confident, fearless woman who gives zero fucks but you’ve found an excuse to get him back to your room.”
 

I had no idea why I became frozen in my seat. Nothing in the world would get me to go up and talk to him right now. Hell, he stressed me out so much I didn’t even want him making the first move. We glanced towards each other, occasionally catching each others’ eye. Was I being too obvious? Did he know that he had my suitcase? He looked at me so intently, so magnetically when he came to our table earlier. Why? And why did he come to our table in the first place? I wanted to go up to him and resolve all this so it didn’t nag on my mind. If only I had Kristen’s overtness and this suffering could all be over.

“You’re freaking, out, Hayley.” Ako stroked my hand. “Breathe. He’s just a boy.”

“Do you want to go up to him?”

“Yes, of course, but…I…I can’t. Kristen, advice please.”

“Like Ako said, he’s just a boy. You’ve talked to plenty of boys. Just ‘cos he’s hot doesn’t make him some king. He’s a person. All you have to do is put one foot in front of the other, walk right up to him with your shoulders back and tell him a confident ‘Hey’.”