The Bad Boy Wants Me

I tell her to wait in the bedroom whilst I quickly take my stuff downstairs to the car and ask the driver if he’d mind carrying Britney’s suitcase from upstairs as it’s too heavy for us. Immediately Victor leaves his seat and goes upstairs.

‘Have a lovely time, won’t you?’ Cora says to me.

‘I’m sure I will,’ I reply as Britney comes down with the driver who looks like he totally underestimated the weight of the case as his face is beetroot red and he’s breathing rather heavily.

‘Thank you so much,’ Britney says as he opens the boot.

I offer to help but, being a man, he refuses and manfully manages on the second clean lift to get it to his chest and into the boot. I wave bye to Cora who’s standing at the door, arms folded and smiling. Britney has already taken her seat inside as the driver goes to the front and I jump in the rear next to Britney.

‘I hope I haven’t forgotten anything?’ she says in a questioning voice.

‘So what if you did?’ I say, turning to her. ‘That would only make our trip into an adventure,’ I say with a grin.

She wrinkles her nose. ‘An adventure? How quaint, but yes, I suppose it could be an adventure.’ She touches my arm. ‘I’m really glad you’re not jaded, Tori. Everybody I know would have made a point of pretending how tedious it all was, but you, you just see everything as if it is an exciting gift.’

‘To be honest I still can’t believe I’m going to Milan on a private jet,’ I say excitedly.

‘Oh, you’ll enjoy it, Tori, it’s really quite the biz. I’ve flown a few times with Cash on his jet and flying commercial simply doesn’t come close after you’ve flown private,’ she says, her voice animated and cheerful.

I grin happily at her. It is wonderful to see how much she has changed, from spoilt and childish to this happy, joyful young lady.

An hour later we arrive at Docklands city airport and our driver pulls up alongside a gleaming silver Embraer Legacy 500 private jet with its door open, a smiling air hostess standing in it. Just like in the movies.

Britney giggles when she sees my gobsmacked reaction. ‘It’s just a plane Tori.’

‘Just a plane?’ I exclaim as Victor opens her door.

‘Close your mouth,’ she says and yanks me out after her.

A man takes our bags and Britney runs up the steps pulling me along as a gust of wind almost blows me off the last one. Inside we are welcomed and shown into the sumptuous cabin. I drop my body into the plush seat and it’s like falling into a luxurious bed. Britney has taken the seat opposite me and she’s laughing at the dazed shock on my face. I laugh at her and then the star treatment starts. Hot towels, followed by pink champagne and a platter of delicious canapés.

‘My God, Britney your brother is a gem. This is just so awesome.’

Britney raises her glass. ‘To us having a fabulous time.’

We clink glasses. ‘To a fabulous time,’ I echo.

‘Yay,’ she yells happily. ‘We’re going to have a brilliant time. I just know it.

I take a sip of the chilled bubbly and lie back. ‘Mmmm.’

Soon the champagne and the fantastic service put me in a relaxed mood. Brit is playing Candy Crush on her mobile and I close my eyes and let my mind wander away to Cash and wonder what he’s doing now. The next thing I know Britney is shaking me enthusiastically. ‘We’re here Tori! We’re here!’

‘What?’ I ask, confused.

‘Look out, we’re above Milan,’ she says.

I pull back my shutter and the bright sunlight temporarily stuns me before I see that she is right, we are just over Milan.

‘It looks amazing,’ I say as the pilot announces that we’re preparing to descend. Britney reaches over for my hand and holds it tightly in hers. A few minutes later, touchdown. Milano.

Chapter Thirty

Tori

As we are about to disembark, one of the cabin crew comes to talk to us. ‘You have had a message from Mrs. Knowles, Mr. Hunter’s secretary, to let you know that she has arranged for a driver who speaks English. He’ll take you wherever you want to go and will wait for you. Please don’t go anywhere without him.’

‘Cool,’ I say.

We thank the rest of the crew as we exit the plane and step into the glorious sunshine. Even though it is only eleven in the morning it’s already very hot. Our passports are checked then we walk to a black Mercedes idling on the tarmac.

‘Welcome to Milano,’ the driver says as we reach the car. ‘I am Fabio and I will look after you during your stay here.’

‘Ciao, Fabio,’ Britney greets cheerily and slips elegantly into the door he holds open for her. I get in on the other side. He walks over to the front, gets in, and turns around to pass us both cards with his cell number. ‘Telephone me when you wish to go anywhere or if you need me, Signorine,’ he says.

We murmur our thanks, and he puts the car into motion. It’s only then I hear my phone ping and eagerly retrieve it from my bag. My heart races as I read the text.

Hey Wildcat. Been thinking about u nonfuckingstop. My dick’s going wild & I’m feeling cocky. So consider yourself warned. Buy something dead sexy for tonight. C u later. x

Britney sees the wide smile on my face and turns to me with an inquiring look. ‘Someone’s made you happy,’ she says.

‘Yeah,’ I say.

Barely able to contain my happiness, I lie back and watch the sun-drenched countryside pass us by. An hour later we turn into the fabulous pillars that straddle the entrance of the Hotel Principe di Savoia.

‘Wow, it’s breathtaking,’ I gush.

‘I know and I can’t wait to see our rooms.’

The driver drops us off at the main entrance and we go inside the massive foyer with its fabulous centerpiece waterfall. At the reception desk we are welcomed by a sultry Italian brunette and told that we have a suite on the top floor. She also passes a white envelope with both Britney’s and my name on it.

‘OMG! It’ll be so much fun, we have our own suite together,’ Britney squeals as I open the envelope.

‘What’s in the envelope?’ she asks.

‘Our stage passes and … a letter,’ I reply.

‘What does it say?’ she asks peering over my shoulder and reading the letter.

‘For a few seconds there is silence as we read the letter, then Britney is doing a happy dance right there in the posh foyer that positively smells of big money.

‘Ha, ha, ha, I can’t believe it. Cash asked Mrs. Knowles to open accounts for us in Fendi, Prada, Moschino, Gucci and Versace. We can buy whatever we want to,’ she sings.

‘Mrs. Knowles is really efficient,’ I say in a hushed voice. I’ve never been so spoilt in all my life.

‘Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant we’re all organized,’ Britney says as a bellboy approaches us and takes us to the top floor. Our suite is a to-die-for mixture of classical elegance and modern contemporary. Britney claims the bedroom overlooking the street and I take the one overlooking the garden and pool. The bathrooms are stunning with pink marble and Jacuzzi whirlpool baths. I throw myself on the bed and think of Cash. I can’t wait to see him later.

‘What do you want to do now, Brit?’ I shout across the room. ‘We have six hours before we need to leave for the stadium.’

‘Shopping obviously,’ she says appearing at my doorway. ‘What else is there to do in Milan? We’ll hit the shops on Mrs. Knowles’ list.’

I call the driver and we find ourselves in the Quadrilatero d'Oro (Rectangle of Gold). We visit so many shops that I lose count. For the most part I stare in awe at the beauty, the design brilliance, and the incredible choice I see on display in Milan. Bright colors, classic lines.

Britney buys a striped trouser outfit at Fendi and a really cute dress at Moschino. She also finds a luscious snakeskin bag at Gucci and a pair of boots at Prada. I find the perfect buy in Versace. A leopard print, tight, velvet mini-dress with a high collar. The sales assistant, a gay man with very beautiful eyes,

then suggests a pair of shoes that I would never have thought of wearing with my print dress. A black Medusa tri-strap platform. I put them on and stand.

‘Very sexy,’ he says in his thick Italian accent.

‘They’re perfect. Get them,’ Britney says very firmly.

I walk up and down the shop. He wants wild cat. He’s got wild cat. ‘OK,’ I say.

It is nearly two o’clock and we are very hungry so we stop for lunch at Caffè Baglioni across the street. Between us we polish off plates of eggs and truffle, steak tartare, smoked salmon, and wash it all down with a bottle of champagne.

We arrive back at the hotel quite merry, a teeny bit tipsy, and with about two hours to go before we leave for the stadium. Already the adrenaline is flowing in my blood. I can’t wait to see Cash. It’s as if we haven’t been parted for just a few hours, but weeks.

Britney is in her room with the music at dance level decibels and is busy trying on various outfits for later, so I decide to avail myself of the Jacuzzi. I lie back and close my eyes. As the lovely sensation of jets of water gently blast my body, an image of Cash the first time he cheekily came into my bathroom with his mouthwatering wares on display comes into my head.