London Falling (32 page)

Of course, he knew Aimee had to go home soon. In fact, he highly suspected she had enough money for a plane ticket home. There had been a moment last night when she sold a fairy cake to a surprisingly sweet punk rock chick. Aimee had looked well, like it was a special fairy cake. He hoped she wasn’t leaving yet because she didn’t want to leave him. But with school starting next week for her, and the royal family’s choice coming late next week for him, he knew their time together was limited. He was already clearing his schedule so he could fly to Seattle in a few weeks. If only he could convince her to look for a job in London when she graduated. They’d both been avoiding talk of the future, but they had to discuss it soon.

He didn’t want their time together to end.

Simon stepped into his office.

“Glad to see you could make it,” his father said.

Bollocks. This couldn’t be good. His father never came to see him in his office.

“Hello, Father.” Simon walked to his desk, sat down, and motioned to one of his chairs, but his father remained standing near the window. His father hadn’t been in the office for several days. Isabella? Or something to do with the bank? “What can I do for you?”

“You can tell me why we’re losing our bid to RBB.”

“What bid?” What was his father talking about? The only business they’d bid on lately was the princes’ business and that wasn’t to be decided for another week.

Bollocks, double bollocks, bugger and hell.

His father didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He just stood there with his arms crossed and an annoyed expression on his face. “What happened?” Simon asked.

“What do you think happened?”

He slumped in his chair. After everything–all his hard work, the charity event, the proposal–he wasn’t getting the business. Prince William came to his event! The event his father had insisted he hold. He thought for sure he’d got the business after that. “I have no idea what happened.”

“Right,” his father said, walking over to his window and staring outside.

“You know that RBB had a private detective following you?”

Oh God. He gripped the desk with his fingers. They’d found out about Aimee. “Yes.”

“He found out what you’d been up to. You should have been doing the same,” his father said, whipping around in anger. “You should have known about this before I found out. You should have had a private detective of your own, doing everything you could to win the business. Instead, you’re coming in late, spending time with that American and neglecting your duties to your family.”

“How did they find out?” Damn. He thought they were so secretive. They were sneaking through the neighbor’s garden every evening to avoid detection. Someone must have seen him on the street, despite his attempts to disguise himself.

His father said nothing. He merely clenched his jaw.

“Don’t blame her. She needed money to get home and this was the only way she could do it. I couldn’t allow anything to happen to her on the street, so I volunteered to keep her company. I know she didn’t have a permit, but these are trying circumstances. I–”

“Are you telling me that you helped that woman sell fairy cakes illegally on the street?” His father’s face turned red in anger.

Simon held his ground. “I thought you said the private detective found out what I’d been up to?”

His father turned his eyes to the ceiling. “Of course she didn’t tell you.”

The air went out of Simon’s lungs. Aimee knew about this and she hadn’t told him. She still didn’t trust him, after everything they’d been through together. “Tell me what?”

“This is old news Simon.”

“Not to me.”

“The detective followed you New Year’s Eve, where he was thrilled to discover your American friend–whom you seem to have introduced to him–selling fairy cakes on the street. He did a little checking and realized she had no permit.”

Bollocks! He’d been in such a rush to find Aimee; he hadn’t tried to shake off the detective.

“Fortunately, the detective isn’t so squeaky clean. He found his way to me and to my pocketbook.”

“You paid him off?” Just brilliant. It was one more screw-up for his father to hold over his head.

His father nodded. “But not until after he told me everything they had.”

Simon felt sick to his stomach. His father almost looked like he was enjoying this–like he relished the fact that his oldest son had screwed up.

But that couldn’t be true, could it? “What did he have?”

“Your proposal.”

“What?” That wasn’t what he had expected. How could that be?

“Yes. He’d cozied up to that blonde woman in the planning department.

Not to worry. I’ve already fired her.”

“You don’t have the right–”

“I have every right!” he bit out, stunning Simon with the strength of his anger. His father jabbed his finger in Simon’s direction. “I own this bank. And in case you have forgotten, you work for me.”

Simon’s fingers went cold. “This is about more than the royal family’s business.”

His father moved closer and leaned his fists on the desk as he stared down at Simon. “You don’t have the drive and talent to run this business on your own.”

Simon stood. “That’s ridiculous!”

“You’re too easily distracted by money grabbing bimbos to care about this bank. I will not allow my legacy to be spoiled by a greedy slut.”

“You don’t know Aimee. She’s remarkable. Caring. Smart. And hard-working. You’ve only just met her.”

“As have you,” his father said with a meaningful stare. “Weren’t you the one who thought Nealy was the best thing that ever happened to you?”

Simon felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart. Why was his father still holding Nealy over his head? He’d been young and impressionable, but everything about Aimee was different. But a little voice inside his head said maybe his father had a point. He barely knew Aimee. He quashed the voice.

This feeling he had with Aimee was completely different. Simon stood, crossing his arms in front of him. “I love her.”

His father rolled his eyes. “You love her. Right. I’ve heard that before.”

He stepped around the desk and stood toe to toe with Simon. “I need proof that you aren’t going to lose everything to the first bimbo who comes along.”

Simon’s anger settled like a fist in his gut. “Like you almost did?”

His father’s eyes narrowed into two tiny slits. “Get rid of her.”

“I will not.”

His father became still. Too still. “Get rid of her. Or I’ll get rid of you.”

Simon’s heart dropped out of his chest. “You’ll what?”

“Get rid of her, or I’ll relieve you of your position with the bank. If I decide not to sell to RBB.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“I own the bank. And I have two other children.”

“Neither of whom has any interest in running the bank.”

“I will never allow someone like her to inherit my fortune.”

Had his father gone off his rocker finally, confusing Aimee with his ex-wife? “Aimee is not like Kathryn.”

“Don’t ever say that name to me again. Do you hear me?”

Simon clenched his fists. This bank was his life! His father couldn’t do this to him. “I was the one who got all the business when we were half-way into bankruptcy. And I’m responsible for 80% of the profits this past year alone. You wouldn’t have a fortune if not for me.”

“You wouldn’t have had a job if not for me. And you didn’t build anything. I was the one who built a strong foundation. You had the good fortune to follow my plans.”

Simon whipped around and stalked to the opposite wall. He felt as though he’d entered an alternative universe. His father was delusional! But he’d never sell to RBB. He spun around again. “How did you hear that we didn’t get the business?”

“I ran into Joshua Townsend’s wife in Rome this past weekend.”

Simon rubbed his temples. Of course. The wife of Prince William’s second-in-command business manager. His father said he’d strip him of the bank if he lost the chance. And now he was making good on that threat.

Simon fisted his hands so tightly that his nails would surely puncture his palms.

No. It wasn’t too late. He hadn’t helped build this bank up from nothing without accomplishing the impossible. “Nothing is finalized until the twelfth.”

His father shook his head. “You’re lying to yourself if you believe that.”

“I will not allow you to disinherit me.” Dear God, he was nothing without his inheritance.

“You have no choice in the matter.” His father turned to walk out the door. Just before he got to the door, he turned back around. “I’ll allow you to stay on as President of the bank.”

Simon’s heart stopped once again. Hope flared in his chest.

“As long as you get rid of that American. She’s a distraction. And you can’t afford that.”

Simon shook his head. He wouldn’t allow his father’s anger over losing the business to be misdirected at Aimee. Aimee was everything.

But so was the bank. And without the bank he was nothing. And Aimee wouldn’t want to be with a nothing. Blast it all! This was no choice at all.

Choose Aimee and lose the bank and Aimee. Or choose the bank and lose Aimee.

“You have twenty-four hours to get her on a plane home,” his father said, and then swept out the door like a retreating tsunami.

Aimee pushed onto the crowded underground train and made a beeline for an empty seat, but some guy in a leather jacket beat her to it. She was stuck standing in the crowd of commuters. She braced her feet apart, and held on to the pole for dear life, trying to ignore the sniffles and sneezes around her.

How many sick people had held onto this pole before her?

Someone bumped against her as the train went around a corner so she shifted to the right. It seemed like most people were wearing dark suits, and the women dressed up way more here than they did at home. Of course, Seattle wasn’t exactly a hotbed of fashion, where a fleece and a pair of boots were all you needed to fit right in.

Her stomach tightened at the thought of her hometown, but whether it was from excitement or sadness, she didn’t know. In a few short days, she’d be back there, basking in the winter mist. She’d found a travel expediter who was holding a ticket for her for Sunday afternoon and was on her way there now to pay for it with her cupcake funds. After everything that happened, she’d be back in time for her first class of the semester.

Without Simon.

She didn’t want to go. Every day she was falling more and more in love with him. His kindness. His generosity. His adventurous side. He was so smart and talented and driven–she admired him more than she’d ever thought possible. And the things he could do with his body! She’d often wondered what made people go so crazy over sex, but now she finally-finally!-understood.

She closed her eyes. She felt safe with Simon. He took care of her. Not that she needed taking care of, but it was so nice to have someone who cared enough about her to take care of her needs for once. He wanted to know her thoughts on things. He made her laugh. And he didn’t make her cry, except for that one weird, cathartic happy cry after sex.

The train slowed, and Aimee pushed through the doors with what seemed like every other passenger on the train. She followed the crowd toward the exit and her ticket home and away from Simon.

They’d been avoiding the topic of her return home. Aimee didn’t want to think about it because it meant the end of their time together and that was just too heartbreaking after they’d only just found each other. Thirteen days they’d known each other. Lucky thirteen.

It felt like forever.

Of course, Simon hadn’t told her he loved her. She knew he cared about her. It showed in all the little things he did for her each day, like buy her gloves because it was too cold outside. Of course, she had to reimburse him for the gloves. She wasn’t going to be one of those women who used Simon for his wealth. She couldn’t be. She loved him too much.

But, did he love her? He did little things like bring her hot tea when the air turned frigid, but did that mean he loved her? He held her so close when they talked about their hopes and dreams. But there was never any mention of a future for the two of them. They both danced around the topic like it was a poisonous snake.

Simon had been asking a lot of questions about Seattle, however. Like how big her apartment was? If she had a big bed? What the weather was like this time of year? It had to mean something.

Somehow, she had to broach the topic with him. Dinner tonight would be a perfect opportunity, especially since she could break the news that they didn’t need to sell cupcakes tonight. And that she was leaving on Sunday.

They’d have to talk about the future then.

And maybe, if he seemed open to it, she could potentially look at job opportunities in London. Legally. Once she graduated, she could get a job anywhere. There wasn’t anything tying her to Seattle.

She emerged from the Underground into bright sunlight. People swarmed around her heading somewhere and she suddenly felt lighthearted.

She loved London! The energy, the people, the cosmopolitan air. She could never have imagined this for herself, but now that she had, she couldn’t wait She fished into her right pocket, looking for the piece of paper with the address for the ticket expediter. That pocket was empty. She found the address in her right pocket, found the correct street sign and headed in that direction. She glanced at the address again and put it back in her left pocket Her empty pocket. She froze in her tracks. Put her hands in both coat pockets. Her money had been in the right pocket. Right? There was nothing in either pocket, except the slip of paper with the address on it and her tube ticket. Her knees almost gave out.

Her money was gone!

She looked around to see if it had fallen on the ground, but she knew it was a lost cause. She’d been pick-pocketed. There was that bump on the train. That must have been when it happened. She knew better than to lose focus on a busy train. Her ears started ringing.

What was she going to do? All that hard work. All those cupcakes. She sucked in big gulps of air. There wasn’t enough time. She had to be home by Monday for classes. She only had two days. She’d never be able to sell enough cupcakes to earn another ticket home.