She would never forget, especially when everything he did was only for that frickin’ piece of paper that turned her into an object. A sex object to be exact.
“Of course I won’t. Thanks again,” she said this as coldly as she could and she hated the sound of her voice without warmth.
She wanted to go to England, to see London, and she got her wish. It was only a matter of a week, before she would actually step on British soil. First things first, however. She had to take care of that leave of absence. This was her chance and she would take it. Her blank passport would finally have a stamp after two years of ownership.
Chapter8
She couldn’t believe it. She was flying on a plane en route to London. She felt giddy, but she didn’t want to show it. Justin saw it all over her face, even if she said nothing. He had booked her on first class, three chairs away from him. She drank champagne in a single gulp, even if she said she was pathetic with liquor. He hoped she wouldn’t get drunk on her first international flight. He didn’t want a stomach show. That would be grossly embarrassing.
Mikaela was doing this to fall asleep, knowing she wouldn’t be able to have a good conversation with Justin. He had purposefully kept her apart from him, to abide with the contract. That stupid contract. What was wrong with small talk? What was wrong with getting to know him better? This was eleven hours of sitting or lying down, and having pretty, well portioned meals with flowing drinks. She was beginning to get sleepy already.
She eyed him from across the cabin, and saw he was in deep thought, his chin resting on one hand as he stared out into the sky. Maybe this was his form of quality time, his “me” time. It was something new to look at.
He always moved about, he always had a say about things, and yet here he was, quiet and contemplating. She liked looking at his profile, his thin nose fit his CEO status well. It looked like he was a part of British royalty. He shifted and she looked away hastily, and she thought she would read a book until she fell asleep. She took out an introduction to anatomy, a small, frayed book she had gotten in a second hand shop.
She shifted in her seat, liking the feel of her new outfits. From her blouse down to her shoes, everything was new. She shopped with hesitation. She had spent roughly $2,000 on clothes alone, plus two pieces of luggage and shoes. That totaled to around $4,800, money she could never earn in a week. When Justin called her to ask if she had gotten anything, she said she spent more than she could earn. He gently reminded her he was paying for this, and she felt even more indebted toward him.
Justin was looking at her intently now, well aware she was staring at him the whole time. She had taken out a book, it seemed like a medical book and he rolled his eyes. Medicine didn’t mesh well with him. Louisa wanted to be a doctor, which he couldn’t understand for the life of him. It seemed he was the only one interested in their family business. This was his choice and he hoped Louisa would make a good one for her future. Beatrice wasn’t thinking too well about her future, jumping into the first proposal that sauntered her way.
He wasn’t flying to England to stop the engagement, on the contrary. He was there to support it, even if he didn’t want to. In his thoughts, Beatrice was still that awkward teen that liked to collect tea sets and run barefoot in the grass. He wondered what his father would have thought about this and he hoped his father would think the same way as he did now.
Now that Beatrice was engaged, he felt his mother would put in subtle hints that he was at that age to marry, that age to have children. He was in no mood for that, he was never in the mood for that. He liked his freedom; he didn’t want some nagging woman to leech off of his time. Money he didn’t care much about, money could be earned if you worked for it. Time, however, couldn’t be replaced.
An hour later, he saw she had fallen asleep. He checked his emails on his MacBook, waiting for lunch hour. Leaving his office in Malibu wasn’t a big deal, the company had just closed in on a company he had been wanting to acquire. Now that he was majority shareholder, he felt confident about leaving the company to his subordinates, young and middle-aged individuals who were competent and loyal.
They had similar characteristics to Mikaela when it came to work ethics. He wished he could hire her in the company, but she had far off dreams of becoming a nurse and staying in that homegrown café. He had also made her his exclusive “date.” He wouldn’t call them friends with benefits. Friends were familiar with each other’s attitudes. He couldn’t think of any other term for it, though.
So we are friends with benefits, only I made a contract, he thought, and she’s getting more perks than she’ll probably ever have in her lifetime.
Sex with Mikaela was mind-blowing. She was lithe and heavily involved in the act of doing it. She didn’t just lie there and make funny sounds to pass off as an orgasm. Nor did she roll to her side after the first round. Perhaps it came with being sexually deprived for a while. He had planned how he was going to have some, at least twice in the week that would follow. This was a long break and he wanted to utilize it well.
***
Her heart beat faster the moment Justin’s car rolled up to Rosewood London. She was staring in awe from inside the car. The bleached façade of the hotel had tall, perfect columns, with beautiful warm lights, and tall windows. Everything she had seen from the inside of the car was gorgeous.
Justin eyed her carefully. He knew she was ready to bolt out of the car and flop onto her bed. The journey had been her first long haul and he knew she was exhausted, even if she had carefully applied makeup before landing commenced. When the concierge greeted her she smiled back, a bit nervous, like she was about to commit a crime.
He took it from there.
“Honey, come on,” he said, with surprising warmth, holding out his arm.
She hid her disbelief. Did he just call her honey? She slowly reached out to hold his arm, as a bellboy loaded her branded luggage onto a trolley. They walked up to the front desk, with its smiling receptionists and contemporary furnishings.
Her room didn’t skimp on luxury, either.
“This is my mother’s favorite suite, the Cupola,” he said, once the bellboy had left with a large tip in his hands.
She stared at the expanse of the room for a full minute, then slowly started walking around, her hands touching the furniture and sheets delicately. She walked into the bathroom and saw a large marble tub with a vanity mirror.
“I hope you brought a camera along. There’s a lot of picturesque places within the vicinity.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t really think about that.”
“Well, what else are you going to post on Facebook?”
“I don’t really have Facebook…” her voice trailed off as she looked at the street below her. It was bustling with people who were going home, people who rushed for dinner, and people who came from shopping. “It was Lynne’s.”
His head cocked sideways. “Really now?”