She had called my bluff. Of course, she wasn’t going to publicize my relationship. It didn’t suit her, but my mother on the other hand would find out. There was nothing to it. I’d have to tell her myself, which might be a relief since I was getting tired of all the lies I’d had to concoct and continue to concoct ever since. I called Mom and told her I was working on it and not to worry, then I made my way to Brent’s office.
His office building was a sleek spire of magnificent glass and steel in Bishopsgate. Office workers clad in crisp suits and austere heels clicked their way across the granite flooring to their destinations.
I walked through the glass and chrome rotating doors of the building. I headed across the expansive lobby to the reception desk manned by three receptionists, two females, and one tall male and quickly demanded to see Brent Lucan. No, I didn’t have an appointment. One of the females, her picture-perfect smile not altering in the slightest, asked my name, made a call to inform someone, then, stepped away from the desk and asked me to go with her.
I followed her as she clicked her way across the polished floor. She took me to a private elevator by a small bohemian fountain and tapped a key card to gain access. The glass barricades slid away and the elevator car dinged open. She gestured for me to enter and the door slid shut as she took her leave.
Then I was on my way to the top most floor.
When the doors opened again, his personal assistant, Michael was there to greet me. His smile was curt.
I felt the sting of it too. I also didn’t blame him. I looked like a tramp. An angry tramp. I was led through a lavishly decorated hallway with wall fountains and plaques of games, until I arrived before heavy oak doors.
“He’s expecting you. Just knock and go in, Miss Anderson,” he said to me and turned around to leave.
I didn’t knock. I grabbed a hold of the handle and pushed my way into Brent’s office. He was sitting at his desk radiating power and confidence.
“Get that dog, Judi off me,” I shouted.
He scowled. “What’s going on?”
“First she comes around to my home and threatens me with exposure for selling myself in your club, if I don’t leave you alone. And now she’s done a deal with my mother’s landlord and taken the lease for herself.”
“Judi?” he asked.
“Yes!” I yelled, almost hysterical. “Fucking yes, Judi Mirren. Why are you both haunting me? What have I done? Get her off my back and tell her we are fucking. We’re fucking for however long it takes her to realize that she can never have you.”
The room went silent.
I sounded crazy and it showed in his eyes.
In my fury, I had forgotten he didn’t want me for more than a month. Oh, hell. The nightmare just got worse and worse. I was infuriated with myself. This had to count as the lowest point in my life so far, even worse than selling myself. I couldn’t bear anymore mocking, rejection or humiliation, I turned around to leave, but as I got to the door, he caught my hand and spun me around.
“Don’t go,” he said softly. “Let’s … fuck for as long as it takes Judi to believe we’re together, and that she can never have me.”
“Brent,” I whispered, as his magic swirled around me again. “Um … we don’t have to tell everyone ... If you want to keep this quiet.”
A small smile tugged at his lips. “I do what I want and I don’t care who knows. If you want to sing it to the moon or announce it to the ants.”
“You won’t be ashamed?”
“No, I won’t.”
“So you’ll sort out my mother’s boutique?”
“Of course. Tell your mother to go home and relax. Everything will be fine tomorrow.”
“And … and … you’ll stop her from telling my mother about the auction?”
“Oh yes, I’ll make her understand how little benefit there will be to undertaking such a foolhardy exercise.”
“Brent, how come so many people know about the auction? I never told anyone but my two best friends.”
He frowned. “Yes, how come? Leave it with me.”
At that moment, I wanted to cry. It felt so good to have a man to take care of the problem. Ever since my father died, I’ve had to work two jobs and worry about my mom and the relief was incredible. I didn’t even realize tears were running down my cheeks until Brent used his thumbs to wipe them away.
“Don’t cry, Freya. Nothing bad will happen to you or your mother while I’m alive. I promise you that.”
Too choked up to speak, I just nodded.
“I’ll see you at dinner?” he asked.
I sniffled. I didn’t think I could face being in a public place with him and the gossip that would follow yet. I felt too raw. “Can we not go out tonight? I’m not ready for … people.”
“Okay,” he said. “So how about dinner on a yacht?”
“A yacht? I’m not very good on the sea.”
“Don't worry,” he responded. “I’ll make you forget where you are.”
Something deep inside me responded to his words. “Okay.”
“Good. I’ll get Michael to pick you up about five o’clock?”
I nodded.
He smiled gently. “Now go to your mother.”