Maid For The Tycoon: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (12 page)

The men opted for a booth and a pint of stout. One sip of the strong dark brew beer had Spencer wincing.

“Spending too much money on champagne?” laughed his father. “Forgotten your roots?”

“Not at all. I have beer in the fridge at home; this is just a particularly strong brew. It’s a while since I've had something decent from a barrel.”

Spencer listened to his father and brother talk shop. His brother was now a specialist in Rett Syndrome, making the professional change and undertaking the relevant studies and placements shortly after Rosie’s diagnosis. His father remained a top neural surgeon, but as a doting granddad, had a strong interest in Rupert’s niche area of medicine.

“You looked bored, Spence,” remarked Rupert.

“No, just intimidated by all the medical jargon. When I hear you speak, I realize how actively you work toward helping Rosie. I feel I’ve the intention but unable to deliver anything useful.”

“Spence, the charity gala dinner you held the other week brought in loads of money for the research department. You pay for all of Rosie’s care and ensured we have a residence suitable for Rosie when she’s growing up. Eloise and I could’ve afforded that, but we’d have spent a good part of our professional lives working to pay it off. That kind of work would’ve meant not spending precious time with our little girl.

The gifts you’ve given us extend beyond the materialistic. I can’t put a price on what it’s like not have to work long hours to support the extremely difficult living situation we have in catering to Rosie’s syndrome. Your money helps, mate. It helps us to enjoy our little girl while we can. I hope my work helps but there’s no guarantee on that. We see an instant response to your contribution to the family and the quality of Rosie’s life.”

Spencer smiled, but it was watery. He didn’t feel useless, but it didn’t abate his frustration about potentially never being able to communicate with his niece.

“Son,” said Mr. Lawson, “Your devotion to the family is admirable and it comes naturally to you. You’re thirty-two now. Do you ever think of settling down? Maybe stop playing the field and looking for someone who’s better suited to you for more than just one night.”

Only drunk in a pub could three British men have a realistic heart-to-heart.

“I need another drink.”

“It wasn’t until they were four pints along that Spencer was able to reveal his conundrum. “I have thought about settling down. No, not settling down so much as dating. Proper dating. The kind of dating with an end view of developing a relationship.” His brown eyes were glassy, his face flushed, his body relaxed and his persona pleasant, thanks to his gentle inebriation.

“And who’s the lucky lady to catch my brother’s eye?”

“I’m not sure she thinks she’s lucky.”

“What woman landing a handsome billionaire born from my genetic pool wouldn’t be a lucky lady?” guffawed Mr. Lawson.

“She’s not a lady for a start.”

His brother and father raised an amused eyebrow.

“She’s not gentry,” carried on Spencer.

“Spencer, we aren’t in the Victorian era,” guffawed his father.

“Yes, I know that, father. I mean she’s from a very different background to ours.”

“So the lady is a tramp,” giggled Rupert.

Spencer’s hand slammed on the table so hard all three glasses spilt.

“NO!”

“Calm down, mate. I was joking.”

“She’s not a tramp. In the right clothes and in the right place she’s a complete lady. It’s only her background doesn’t afford the right clothes or opportunities to enter my playground.”

Silence stretched between the family. Rupert wasn’t trying to flare Spencer’s temper, nor offend his love interest. He was being cryptic about the girl, which meant he clearly had some reservations.

“I’ve always thought a lady wasn’t born with the title, nor could it be bred into her. A lady is defined by how she conducts herself in the company of other’s and how she chooses to spend her time,” mused Mr. Lawson.

If that definition is anything to go by, then Jenna totally fits the bill of being a lady,
thought Spencer.

“Let’s drop it,” said Spencer. “It’s all very complicated and I’m starting to see double, so I don’t think you’ll get much sense out of me for too much longer.

The men ordered another round of brown ale and returned to discussing football.

Chapter Nine

Jenna made her way into the diner after she finished her first set of classes on Tuesday morning. Her friend Kelly caught her eye and pointed to the section of the restaurant she was looking after.

“Is there going to be a stampede of college kids in two minutes,” asked Kelly, stopping by Jenna’s table.

“Maybe.”

“You going to order?”

“You going to sit with me?” enquired Jenna.

“I can for a bit but let me take your order.”

“Coffee.”

“Jenna, work with me here. I can’t just pour you endless bottomless cup of coffee and then sit and sympathize with you over the bad news.”

“You’ve heard the news as well?”

“I didn’t hear it so much as see it,” said Kelly sympathetically.

Jenna contorted her face into an ugly expression of confusion.

“Have
you
actually seen it,” asked Kelly tentatively.

Jenna shook her head.

“I’ll get you pie with that coffee. Some hot apple pie to sweeten the sourness these pictures will leave in your mouth.”

When Kelly returned, Jenna was grateful there hadn’t been a stampede of customers creating a barrier between her and her friends.

“What’d you come to discuss then?” Kelly was trying to keep her voice airy.

“What pictures have you got?” fired back Jenna.

“They’re not my pictures per se,” evaded Kelly.

“Whom do they belong to?”

“A magazine.”

Jenna snatched the magazine. Kelly made a poor attempt to stop her.

“Jen, I’m sorry. I thought you knew but if you didn’t, then you deserve to.”

Jenna flipped through the cheap rag full of glossy pictures and gossip. When she came to a section called ‘Who’s About Town’ one of the first photos her eyes were draw to under the section ‘Friday Night in NYC’ was of Spencer.

Spencer was dressed in the exact same clothes he’d met her in early Saturday morning. And, he was adorned with a blonde on one arm, a brunette on the other and a gorgeous auburn haired oriental girl with her hand in his coat pocket following from behind as they exited the expensive Pacha club in Chelsea. Jenna thought she might be sick on the spot. She was relieved she hadn’t touched the coffee or pie because it meant there was nothing in her stomach that could make her vomit.

“You didn’t know?”

“Of course I didn’t know. While he was arranging a private orgy, I was mistakenly packing for a romantic monogamous weekend away in Paris,” spat Jenna bitterly.

“Did you go?”

“Of course I did. The magazine only came out...”Jenna’s eyes scanned the inside front cover. “Last night.”

“So you came here to tell me about your romantic getaway and I just dumped all over it by exposing that magazine to you.”

“In fairness Kelly, the weekend was ruined when I left the limousine.”

“Limousine? Words I bet you never imagined you’d be throwing into casual conversation.” teased Kelly.

“After what you’ve just shown me, in all probability, it was my last ride.”

“Jenna?” Kelly said more seriously, “Don’t jump to conclusions. This guy has gone out of his way for you. I know as a couple you’ll both have a natural set of problems to overcome because well let’s face it, you’re poor and he’s rich, but don’t make them more cumbersome by jumping to conclusions and causing a rift when you don’t know what’s happened.

It doesn’t look good, but there could be a perfectly normal explanation to it. If you keep pushing him away, eventually he might take the hint and run and I know deep down, that’s not what you want. It’s not a healthy defense mechanism. Stop thinking you don’t deserve to be in a healthy relationship with a nice man.”

“It’s not a healthy relationship if he doesn’t want to spend his free time with me. I don’t want to see him partying with other women, either. Why couldn’t he take me out on Friday night?”

“Because you were packing.”

“Well, he clearly got his packing done early in order that he could go out and withheld telling me about his plans to prevent me from joining him at Pacha.”

“It does look a bit like that,” agreed Kelly. She pulled her blonde hair out of its bun and gave it a shake.

“Hey Kelly, Health and safety, remember!” shouted her boss from behind the counter.

She narrowed her stormy blue eyes at him and began putting her hair up again. “You going to tell me about Mr. British Billionaire and Paris then?”

“No,” responded Jenna sternly.

“Why not? Don’t be a spoil sport. That picture may mean nothing and it doesn’t take away from what he did or how he was with you while you were in Paris.

“I didn’t come here to talk to you about Paris, Kelly. I came to talk to you about something else.”

“That being?”

“Leon.”

“As in-“

“As in Leon my ex-boyfriend and now ex-con living in the same apartment building as us.”

“Have you seen him?”

“Yes. I have this lovely romantic weekend with Spencer. I arrive back at our crummy building full of romance and memories and there’s my childhood sweetheart, gazing up at me as if I’m the only woman on earth.”

“Did you spit in his eye?”

“Don’t be vulgar.”

“I’m joking.”

“Did you ignore him?”

“I couldn’t. We have a history. I can’t erase that or cut myself off from it. I was polite and civil and tried to remain at arm’s length.”

“Did you kiss him?”

“NOOOOOOOOO!”

“Did you want to?

“No,” said Jenna in a whisper.

“Did you want him to kiss you?”

Jenna didn’t answer.

“Your silence speaks volumes.”

“He looks and acts as though he’s grown up. The way he spoke and his consideration toward me. He was acting like how I was always telling him I wanted to be.”

“How’d you leave things?”

“Vague. I can’t encourage this, can I?”

“No!”

“You guys made a promise to each other that with all the love and good intentions in the world you’re poison to one another and the most loving thing to do was free each other.”

“We certainly were poison for each other when we made that vow.”

“How long’s he been out for?”

“It’s his fourth day,” confirmed Jenna.

“Someone’s been counting.”

“I’m always counting. Leon’s been out of prison four days; Spencer hasn’t called me in 36 hours.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well if Spencer’s genuinely interested in me, he’ll get in touch. I’m not going to chase him. He’s probably resting his feet. I’m surprised the soles of his shoes weren’t worn out chasing those three girls around on Friday night.”

Kelly laughed. “Even so, he endured the pain of threadbare sneakers to get you to Paris. He’s demonstrating something in there for you by not calling the weekend off after a hangover. You can’t fault his commitment.”

Jenna smiled. Rarely did she like people seeing her true feelings, particularly when it came to matters of the heart. Her love life with Leon had been a car crash that everyone witnessed. She couldn’t bear the thought of going through the same thing again with Spencer so publicly.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I was part of some contest or joke he’s devised with his posh pals.”

“My God you’re being paranoid and negative.”

“What did you expect after those pictures?”

“I expected you to pick up the phone and ring him there and then for an explanation. I thought he liked your openness.”

“Well I don’t like how distant he is. If I stretch a hand out with an olive branch, I don’t want to be humiliated when he slaps it away and reminds of the expiration dates of his lovers.”

“I know that’s not you talking,” said Kelly, “but if you aren’t in the mood, then I’ll leave you to it and get on with things.”

“What about Leon?” called Jenna as Kelly rose and wolfed down Jenna’s pie for her.

“What about him? You’re clearly more upset about Spencer Lawson than Leon, so deal with that first. Leon isn’t someone you should be dealing with at all. If you’re sensible you’ll not invest any energy in that boy.”

Jenna threw a note down to cover the charge and tip for Jenna. Her ears hated the advice but she respected Kelly for being a good friend and telling her how it was and directing her to the path that would bring the most happiness and the least risk. But Jenna wasn’t always great at taking on board other people’s advice. She had it in her head she could make everyone’s lives better in her own way.

*

Jenna was glad college finished early that day and even more pleased that her client, Mrs. Goldstein, released her from her duties early. Rather than rush back to the apartment quickly, having jumped off at the bus stop, she ambled home. Outside on the front lawn she saw Leon working on a motorcycle.

“That yours?” She couldn’t help herself from asking. Jenna wasn’t exactly setting a shining example of keeping her distance from Leon.

“Uh-uh,” he grunted, using an array of tools that seemed to be quite intricate. “I couldn’t afford this beast. I’m doing this as a favor.”

“For ‘The Wheels Of...’” her voice dropped below audible as she recognized the logo painted on the motorbike of the notoriously violent and dangerous motorcycle club.

“Not for the club,” specified Leon, rotating from his haunches to face Jenna. “For a friend. I don’t know if he’s part of the gang or if his workshop just can’t handle the extra work today.”

“It doesn’t sound a safe job.”

“It’ll be safe if you allow me to finish the job so I can get paid by the garage. If they like my work, they may even take me on,” he said hopefully.

“Not sure someone that works on vehicles provided from gangs is your best job opportunity.”

“It’s a job ain’t it?”

Jenna could see Leon’s nostrils flare as he stood to face Jenna. That was normally a sign that he was verging on angry.

“I’ve got to get paying work, Jenna,” he explained, lightly taking both her hands in his. It was an intimate gesture but Jenna found she didn’t instinctively pull away. “Not a lot of people want to take on an ex-con. You know I wouldn’t be stupid enough to get involved in anything that wasn’t 100% legit, but these kind of guys need to have their motors fixed, too. If I work in a garage and one stops by, so be it. Doesn’t mean I’m signing up as a member and you’ll be seeing me in my biking leathers tomorrow.”

Jenna laughed. “I sure hope not. I’ll be a curtain twitcher now, checking in on what you’re wearing when you arrive and leave the block.”

“I kind of like the thought of you wanting to check me out,” he confessed cheekily.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m sure you didn’t mean it like that, but I was just checking.”

“Well, don’t,” huffed Jenna.

“Ahhh, you just want to check up on me to see that I’m sticking to the straight and narrow and not breaching the terms of my parole?”

“Exactly.”

“If you really want to do that, Jenna, you won’t be able to stay away from me,” he winked.

Jenna fought an urge to kick the bike. She wasn’t into violence or destroying the property of others, but Leon could be infuriating and sexy at times.

“Just don’t be doing favors for people with questionable ethics,” she warned.

Jenna stomped upstairs into her apartment. Liana was packing her backpack while baby Zada was playing in her crib. She flopped on the couch. This phone standoff with Spencer was disappointing. He hadn’t been aware of what played out after he’d dropped her off on Sunday night and that she needed support; the fact that she had not received one text or call from Spencer stung. Jenna studied her phone. Given the photos of him on Friday night, was it actually her duty to initiate contact?

“You won’t be able to wish a text on there,” stated Liana brutally as she jumped on the sofa next to her sister.

“I know. I was sitting here feeling affronted by the fact that Spencer hasn’t bothered to call.”

“Told you what he was like,” muttered Liana under her breath.

“Then I realized I’ve been so preoccupied with this Leon business, that I didn’t ring or text to see if he got home okay that night or even to thank him for the weekend.”

“You got paid for the weekend,” noted Liana enviously, thinking of all the clothes her sister brought home with her.

“No, I was treated on the weekend. I’m not an escort to be paid for services.”

“Well that’s how it beginning to look, especially as he hasn’t called you yet.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, green-eyed girl. His family is over and he’s run off his feet. Manners dictate I should’ve rung or texted to check on his well-being and thank him again for the lovely date.” Jenna emphasized the word date. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make a call,” she announced, flouncing to her bedroom.