Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I turn back to the screen. “Tomorrow night works.”
“Okay,” Felicity says. “I’ll speak to Betty and get her to arrange glam and a stylist.” I haven’t spoken to my assistant for weeks. She’s likely been going out of her mind.
“Beau, do you need help with anything?” Tommy asks.
Beau shrugs. “Do you have a preference for where I book a table?”
He’s so adorable.
Felicity hoots with laughter and I can see, rather than hear, Tommy chuckling. “Dear boy, all that will be taken care of. We’ll book the table. We can send a car for you if you want to let us have an address?”
Beau shakes his head. “I can get here, to the Dorchester, myself. That’s not a problem. So you don’t even want me to book the restaurant?”
“Absolutely not,” Tommy says. “We’ll take care of everything. We’ll have your car take the two of you to the restaurant and I’ll also send some security.”
I’m past the point of complaining about Tommy insisting on security. It took me a long time to get used to, but at this point, I’ve given up. “Please make it discreet.”
“Of course, baby girl.”
“We’ll leak your arrival time and location to a couple of publications. So tomorrow night will be the start of… We need a couple name for you,” Felicity says. “B-Viv—god I’m so good at my job.”
I glance at Beau and his eyes are narrowed. He’s staring at the screen like he can’t quite believe what he’s a witness to.
Me too, my friend. Me too.
THIRTEEN
Beau
Tonight is one of the few times in my life that I’ve ever felt self-conscious. I wasn’t quite sure what to wear to dinner, given I was going to be photographed by the international media. So I opted for what I would have worn if I was trying to impress a girl I was taking out on a date: white shirt, my favorite jeans and, for good measure, a blazer. Maybe I’m turning into Jacob.
As I take a seat in the cab, I pat down my pockets: phone, keys, wallet. On the seat beside me lay the flowers I picked up during a break between clients this afternoon. I know we’re not in a real relationship, but she deserves a man who’s nice to her, even if I’m not her boyfriend. I saw them and they reminded me of her—pinks and whites and greens. I can pick out which of the small bouquet are roses. As much as I don’t have floral qualifications, I’m not an idiot. I think the florist said the other flowers were snapdragons and freesias. Whatever they are, they’re light and pretty and look like Vivian when she doesn’t know I’m looking at her—light and pretty and delicate.
I’m about three minutes from the Dorchester when my phone goes. It’s Tommy again. He’s been calling me all afternoon, but I’ve been working. I only don’t dismiss it because it’s Vivian’s manager and I don’t want to upset him. Or her.
“Hey, Beautiful Beau,” he says as I answer.
“Tommy,” I reply. “How are you?” This guy is over the top, even for an American. I’m going to have to ask Vivian if he’s always like this or if he’s just being particularly…effervescent for my sake.
“We were going to talk about the contract,” he says. “You were going to call me.”
“Yeah, sorry, I had to squeeze in an emergency patient and now I’m on my way to the hotel.” To be honest, I’d completely forgotten to call him back because I was busy Googling how to write a business plan between patients. There were a lot more steps than I’d expected, but now I have a place to start—market research. Most of it I can do online.
“So you’re still on for tonight then? You haven’t got cold feet?”
I only agreed to this yesterday. What would have changed my mind since then? “No, Tommy. I’m pulling up any minute now.”
“Can you sign the contract right now then? I can have someone bring it up to the suite.”
I wince because I absolutely don’t want that to happen. “There were just a few things that I wasn’t that happy with when I skimmed the document you sent over. Like, I don’t want to get paid. It feels too weird to me.”
“What do you mean, you don’t want to get paid?” He sounds like he’s spent his entire life believing the world is flat and I’d just proved it’s round.
“I’m taking a friend to dinner. I’m not accepting payment for that. Spending time with Vivian is payment enough.”
“Think of it as compensation for having to put up with the press scrutiny.”
“I don’t read the press—or certainly not the kind that talks about me and Vivian going out to dinner.”
“They might go through your bins, talk to your friends, all trying to get information about you. These people know no bounds.”