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Knowing his stubborn wife as well as he did, he had a feeling he'd need all the help he could get.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Britt checked the address on her phone and squinted at the faded number above the crumbling stone door.
Yep, this was the place.
Some conglomerate she'd never heard of wanted to turn this old Edwardian mansion in the middle of Chelsea into a boutique hotel. Doing a quick sweep, she noted the disintegrating brickwork, the fragmented window frames, and the general dilapidated air of the once grand home; they had their work cut out for them.
But it wasn't her job to assess viability of the building. She needed to wow them with the potential advertising campaign she could produce for a project of this scale, because she needed a new project to focus on and occupy her every waking hour. That way, she could stop dwelling on Nick and how much she missed him.
Missed? More like craved, an intense, unstoppable, uncontrollable craving that intensified rather than lessened with each passing day.
It had almost been a month since she’d arrived back in London and, while she was grateful he'd stopped calling, emailing, and texting her every day, a small part of her curled up and howled every time she checked her messages or her inbox and found nothing from him.
She'd picked up the phone so many times, desperate to hear his voice, before slamming it down, knowing if she heard his dulcet tones professing his love she'd break down and blurt the truth.
And she couldn't afford to, figuratively and literally. Just a few more months and she'd be free…every cent paid back to her dad and, after that, who knew?
Maybe her future had room for a husband?
Her phone beeped and she read the message.
Meet me on the top floor. Eager to get this meeting under way.
'Damn bossy tycoons,' she muttered, firing off a quick reply
Be there in a minute
before shoving the phone in her handbag, hitching her portfolio higher on her shoulder, and pushing through the front door, not surprised when the hinges groaned in protest.
Grateful the building was only three storeys high, she climbed the rickety stairs, admiring the soaring ceilings, the elaborate cornices, and the chandeliers that would be magnificent once restored to former glory.
The crumbling façade of this grand old dame hadn't done justice to the treasure-trove inside and she could see why someone would want to turn this place into a hotel.
When she reached the top landing, she headed toward the open door at the end of a long corridor, drawn by the light spilling into the gloom.
Ideas had assaulted her from all angles as she'd climbed the staircase and she couldn't wait to put some of her enthusiasm to good use and wow her potential new client.
Smoothing her hair with one hand, she tightened her grip on her portfolio with the other, assuming her best professional smile as she stepped into the room.
Her client stood in front of the window, the light behind his silhouette making it difficult for her to see, but as he turned and took a step towards her, she saw too much.
Her smile slipped along with her portfolio, which crashed to the ground, along with her hopes of holding Nick Mancini at bay until her work was done.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Nick's first instinct to rush to Britt, sweep her into his arms, and forget the agony of the past month took a serious hit when he saw the stubborn set of her mouth and the angry sapphire glint as she fixed him with a haughty stare.
He'd flown around the world to be with the woman he loved and she was angry?
Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the window sill. 'What? No welcome kiss for your husband?'
She picked up her bags from the floor and placed them on a nearby table, too cool and controlled for his liking. He wanted her off guard, nervous, so he could bully the truth out of her as to why she bolted, why she'd given back his ring.
Instead, she smoothed a too-tight hound's-tooth skirt, tugged on the hem of a matching jacket, and perched on the table's edge. 'What are you doing here, Nick?'
'Business.'
