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He loved her. He loved her and he wanted to be with her. When he’d thought about the possibility of a future with her, it had been clouded by pain, by the habit of avoiding emotion for years, by his fear of hurting a woman who had seen the best in him even when he couldn’t.
But when he stripped away all of that, when he answered the simple question with the simplest answer, it was Rosalind.
“There are several new initiatives we hope to focus on in the coming months. Some I can’t speak to as the...details have not been hammered out yet. I will say that, as has been reported in the news, my father...” His voice caught. The lights flashed. “My father worked hard and, as I’m sure you’ve heard, left me with a substantial fortune. I’ll be exploring ways to put that money to good use.”
“No more champagne and caviar?” someone from the audience called out.
Griffith’s chuckle cut through the mix of shocked murmurs and awkward laughter.
“Yes. But in moderation.” He paused, then smiled. “Someone recently showed me there are more important things in life.”
The questions came, fast and hard. He deflected, smiled as he stepped back from the microphone, ignoring the barrage of shouts as he allowed the assistant to guide him, Alicia and the other representatives from Lykaois Shipping back into the building.
It was only a few minutes later, even though it felt like hours, that he walked into his office and closed the door.
And finally confronted the realization that had nearly knocked him off his feet during the press conference.
What happened between us...that meant something to me.
His time with Rosalind had meant something to him, too. More than anything else in his life because he was in love with Rosalind. He loved her and wanted a life with her in it. Couldn’t picture an existence without her in it.
And he’d forced her out of his life.
He quelled his panic, reined in his fear. Yes, she might reject him. That was her choice. But if he didn’t ask the question, if he didn’t tell her how he felt, what he wanted, he would never know.
He thought about calling, showing up at her flat.
No. Rosalind deserved something more. Something worthy of a fairy tale.
He picked up his phone, dialed his executive assistant.
“I need you to make a reservation.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ROSALIND STARED AT the cryptic invitation in her hand before her gaze moved to the towering white wheel in front of her. In all the years she’d lived in England, she had yet to ride the London Eye. It was one of the tallest Ferris wheels in the world and offered views of Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abby and Big Ben. One of the senior attorneys at Nettleton & Thompson had even been proposed to at the top of the wheel.
Another glance at the simple yet elegant card that had appeared in the mail a few days ago yielded few clues. The wheel normally closed at six o’clock. But her ticket indicated she should arrive at eight in the evening.
Her mind, along with her foolish heart, had immediately thought of Griffith, then dismissed him just as quickly. She’d heard nothing from him since they’d parted in France nearly five weeks ago. After her last day at Nettleton & Thompson, she’d gone home to Maine for a much-needed visit that had seemed to end almost as soon as it started. As she’d waited for her flight back to London, she’d given in to temptation and typed Griffith’s name into her online search bar. An article had mentioned an upcoming press conference announcing Griffith assuming his father’s role as CEO of Lykaois Shipping.
She’d been happy for him. But she’d also mourned that he had returned to England and made no attempt to see her.
Just like he said he would.
She breathed in deeply as she craned her neck back to look at the top of the Eye. Over thirty capsules with floor-to-ceiling windows were anchored to the wheel. At its height, the monument soared to well over four hundred feet. Her father and oldest brother, Jordan, had made plans to visit in the fall, and she planned to bring them here. Jordan would enjoy the ride while her father marveled over the engineering of the massive wheel.
A sentimental smile crossed her face as she approached the ticket booth. Her time in Maine had been not only a wonderful reprieve from the chaos of the previous weeks, but it had been a much-needed solace for her battered soul. She’d made more than one trip to the cemetery to lay flowers on her mother’s grave. She’d also been surprised and relieved when her father had responded to news of her resignation and future plans with excitement and encouragement.
Part of her regretted the time she had spent chasing after something that had been tied to whom she thought she should be. Yet she couldn’t regret the experience she’d gained, the people she’d met or how it had prepared her for the next step of operating her own firm. There would be long hours, yes, especially in the first year. But they would be spent doing what she loved. And as she grew, added to her staff and found success on her own terms, she would carve out time for the things she loved instead of just observing the good from afar.
Branches formed a leafy canopy overhead as she approached the main entrance. The queue lines were empty, the wheel immobile.
Frowning, she glanced down at the invitation again. It had come from the director of the Victoria and Albert Museum in Knightsbridge and suggested that she had been invited to a private ride on the Eye to discuss an upcoming exhibition. Believing it a prank, she’d called the museum directly. The director’s secretary had assured her the invitation was genuine. The director, the young woman had shared, had heard that Rosalind was starting her own firm, and was actively recruiting up-and-coming London business owners to be a part of a new exhibition.
Be a part of was usually code for sponsorship. And while she’d saved up plenty of money working for Nettleton & Thompson and living in her tiny flat, the rent on the office space she’d decided on wasn’t going to be cheap. Nestled between the neighborhood of Camden’s vibrant market and social streets and its quieter residential area, it would be the perfect place to meet with the kind of clients she enjoyed working with.
Still, when the director of a world-famous museum sent her a private invitation, how could she say no?
