I sat back in my chair with a smug grin on my face, already dreaming of the cute little ski jacket I needed for the Alps. “Exactly.”
Chapter 10
AS DETERMINED AS I was to throw myself back into the game, I couldn’t help but check my cellphone periodically as Madison and I worked throughout the day, but James didn’t grace me with that call I was expecting. We skipped lunch entirely and focused on streamlining our client base, going for quality, not quantity, zeroing in on the accounts that we knew would generate the most money.
By the time we finally packed it in for the day, around nine o’clock, I was exhausted but that didn’t stop me from going to James. I kept thinking about it. So I decided to make the first move. If it didn’t go over very well, then I would never make the first move again. Part of me knew I should give him notice, another part of me wanted to surprise him.
From the street, his penthouse was barely visible, the upper balcony blanketed in a layer of clouds. The clandestine hideaway was all quite purposeful; James had to make a concerted effort to keep his return to London under wraps, and I’d really only seen a few cameramen milling about the last time I was there. Now, after he was spotted and called out by Duke Charles at The Dorchester, that number had multiplied to far more, likely 100 media mongrels.
I pushed my way through the crowd as best I could, sincerely hoping I’d be granted entry into the building and not just turned away at the
door. There’s probably a password I have to repeat to the bellhop, I feared. They probably change it biweekly.
I was in luck, because the guy manning the door just so happened to be the same person who was there the last time I visited. He smiled as soon as he spotted me and pulled on the handle to hold the door open as I breezed inside. He even said, “Nice to see you again, miss!” instantly putting my nerves at ease.
Less than five minutes later, I was in the elevator, shooting to the penthouse nestled amongst the clouds. My nerves returned as I considered that I was about to surprise my ever-elusive dinner date. By the time I reached the top floor, I was so filled with anxiety that I almost pressed the button to jet me back to ground level, so I could escape with him being none the wiser. I seldom did anything so unscripted and spontaneous, but before I could change my mind, the doors dinged open, and I found myself standing in James Cross’s living room.
“Hello?” I called tentatively, feeling more and more like an intruder as I made my way inside. “James, are you here?”
There was no response, and the place seemed deserted, but just as I was about to leave, I heard a familiar English accent calling down from somewhere upstairs. An unfamiliar sense of recklessness surged through me as I abandoned my urge to retreat. I hesitantly climbed the stairs, then tiptoed down the hall to a room I’d never seen before, a room I could only assume belonged to James.
The door was open just a crack, and I peeked through and saw him pacing distractedly, with a phone glued to the side of his face. An uncharacteristic nervous crease wrinkled his forehead as he continued, “Anyway, I’m sorry again for calling so late.” He ran a manic hand through his long, wavy hair, a habit I recognized as an anxious tic. “I just... I know you worked today, and I didn’t want to interrupt, catch you in the middle of a client meeting or something.”
A sudden grimace flickered across his lovely face, and he hung up without saying another word, then automatically punched a button to delete the message. “Damn,” he cursed under his breath, shaking his head. He pressed another button and inhaled deeply, ready to try again. “Hey, Della, it’s James,” he began.
Wait. What?
I yanked my phone out of my pocket, only to see that the battery had died, and I felt like the world’s biggest fool.
“I just wanted to give you a call because... Well, I said I wanted to call you, and you said... Fuck! Why can I not do this?” He punched the keypad once again, only to hit the wrong button. There was a happy beeping sound, followed by a look of sheer panic as the voicemail accidentally sent. “Shit!” He lifted the phone up to his face and began to push frantically on the buttons. “No, no, no, you stupid piece of shit! You can’t do this to me. She’ll think I’m an idiot!”
Another cheerful beep declared the happy proclamation that his message had sent.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” he said. “Fuck!”
At that point, I backed silently down the hall and crept down the stairs with a huge grin on my face, stretching from ear to ear. I waited a moment in the lobby before clearing my throat with an innocent cough. “James?” I called sweetly up the stairs. “Are you home?”
His pacing abruptly stopped, as did his manic tirade of several four-letter words, the fit that reminded me of one of his brother’s. For a second, all was quiet, but then I heard the sound of footsteps. Finally, James appeared at the top of the stairs, remarkably cool, calm, and collected.
“Della?” he questioned, and there wasn’t a trace of residual panic in his voice or eyes as he made his way gracefully down the stairs; even his hair had fallen back in its usual elegant waves. “What are you doing here?”
“I hope it’s okay.” I grinned shyly and gestured to the elevator. “I was nowhere near the neighborhood, so I decided to stop by.”
He laughed quietly as he descended the stairs, and his eyes twinkled as he came to a stop beside me. “I’m glad you did. I was... I was just about to call you.”
“You were?” I asked innocently, pulling my phone from my purse. “Oh, sorry. I guess my battery’s dead. Good thing I’m here.”
His eyes locked on the little device, horrified that I might eventually hear his haphazard attempt at a casual message. “Yeah, good thing,” he said.
I bit back another grin and slipped the phone into my jacket pocket, vowing to myself that I would take to the grave the secret of what I’d seen and heard. “What have you been up to today, other than almost calling me?” I asked.
He glanced once at a half-constructed motorcycle in the parlor before turning back to give me a shrug. “Nothing interesting. What about you?”
I perched upon the back of the couch and let out a little sigh. “Actually, it’s been a pretty hard day. Your darling brother announced a work competition to help the company make up some ground. As you can imagine, all the junior associates went a little nuts, myself included.”
James beckoned me into the kitchen and gestured for me to sit, then poured two mugs of coffee before he joined me at the table.
“Your friend the duke was right,” I teased.