The Billionaire's Desire Page 5

  A number of his acquaintances noticed him, and as he had a while to wait for Vanessa, he let them join him at his table in the interim. He had fun telling them about the new girl in his life, about how great she was, about their date that night.

  The men he spoke with couldn’t believe their relationship was anything more than casual; Jonathan only did casual, and the women at the table knew that only too well. Still, they were eager to see the incredible woman who would seem to have captured his interest.

  Some time later, Jonathan and his ‘friends’ were laughing inanely at a bad joke. When Jonathan looked up casually, he saw Vanessa standing there in her new Gucci outfit, all shiny and new, and just for a moment she actually took his breath away. He stood to greet her automatically, and the table’s laugh became a snigger, then died awkwardly.

  “Hey everyone,” Vanessa said nervously.

  The blush of her cheeks, the way she held her handbag in front of her with white knuckles and pink fingers, made Jonathan want to protect her. “Everyone, this is my date; the very lovely Vanessa. Vanessa, this is … everyone.”

  Everyone included a few celebrities, one right wing politician, two prominent bankers and several ‘born rich and loving it’ types. A strange group, but Jonathan found it paid to mix with a variety of money and influence, even if he couldn’t stand being with any of them for too long, and none of them, alone.

  They all said hi to Vanessa. The women, jealous. The men, envious. Vanessa licked her lips and tried but failed to fully smile. Then she turned to Jonathan, “You never said it was a party, Jonathan.”

  He admired her spunk, her quick wit, “Oh, it’s not!” he said to Vanessa, then looked at his guests. “Everyone, it’s time for you to leave us. We’re both …ravenous.” He winked at everyone, who all laughed on cue then left the table, careful not to touch Vanessa as they passed her.

  She felt like a procured hunk of meat in a butcher’s window.

  Once the others moved to another table (close enough to watch the date unfold, to take pictures that would no doubt go viral in their little group of acquaintances by morning) out of hearing distance, Jonathan fired his full attention toward Vanessa.

  He watched her every move, admired how she handled herself even though she clearly felt uncomfortable. She became his focus; the noise of the room fell quiet, making their corner even more intimate and delightfully calm. “It’s, um,” The urge to shake his head clear of a strange fog made him grab his glass then throw back the last dregs of Scotch, “good to see you … outside of the office, Vanessa. Sit, and please pardon that lot. They were never part of tonight’s plan, but they will probably serve our purpose as it turns out. They love to tweet!” He nodded toward them all clicking on their phones and huddled in discussion. Oh God, Jonathan thought to himself. I don’t really know how to do a long term relationship, even a fake one. I’m going to scare her off, aren’t I? He swore to himself for the rest of the evening his focus would be on Vanessa, to make sure she had the best possible date.

  * * *

  Vanessa didn’t turn to look at them, to give them chance to take a picture of her face. Instead, she sat and exhaled. “Great choice, this place. I hear the food is incredible here.”

  “Glad you approve.” He held out a menu for her, “Indeed, the menu is quite something. Choose anything you like.”

  She looked at the menu and gasped. “Yikes, a lotta numbers on this menu!” Nerves bubbled in her stomach, but they calmed now it was just the two of them.

  Jonathan grinned, “It’s really not that bad in here. Tell you what, how about I order a tasting menu to share, so you can try lots of little things?”

  “Cool.” She was relieved; she didn’t have a clue what to order and when their food came the flavours exploded on her palette like nothing she had eaten before. Music flowed in the background, like a moody chill-out infused hum, which helped round her shoulders, steady her breathing, and settle her mind.

  After the sushi, she enjoyed Black Cod with Miso as her main, while Jonathan chose Yellowtail Jalapeno. Jonathan encouraged her to share these meals too, as they had the starter. Vanessa struggled with the chopsticks for a while, and even though Jonathan told her it would be fine if she just used a fork, she stuck it out until eventually she managed to get bite sized portions to her mouth successfully, rather than just tiny slivers of her meal.

  Their conversation swiftly moved from work, contracts, and who might be watching them, to the glorious food and then more personal stories about childhood, school life, and their favourite music.

  Jonathan watched her intensely and Vanessa found his level of intrigue both intoxicating and uncomfortable. She had to be careful to protect her past, had to be vague enough to keep her secret but open apparently revealing enough for him not to suspect anything.

  Vanessa said, “At school, I was unpopular, introverted, and thoroughly unattractive.” Really, she had been the prom queen, all blonde hair and pale eyes. She used to be so confident and outgoing before Mike. Before him, she hadn’t had a dark thought. She enjoyed her young like life most, apart from missing her dad. But loads of her friends came from one-parent families. It was no biggie those days.

  Mike had been her first romance, her first lover, her first love. And he had ruined her for anyone else in so many ways she still couldn’t bear to think about.

  “So yeah, I listened to, I dunno, Joni Mitchel, Pink Floyd, and err, what they called? That British group. Ah, Radiohead. That’s them.” Really, she loved whatever came on MTV that made her friends dance, or laugh, or melt. She longed for those days of uncomplicated living. “Anything dark, edgy, you know?”

  Jonathan smiled, “Yes, I know.” A ghost of something passed over his face for a second, but when he returned his intense gaze to hers, he raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “So you expect me to believe that you used to be the Ugly Duckling at school?”

  Shit, he knows I’m lying. Don't get defensive. “No, you can believe anything you like. I’m telling you what it was, take it or leave it,” she said, teasing him. She wondered what he’d think of her without her mask, before Mike had withered that beauty into the bitter poultice he now entertained.

  “Well, if you say so, then I must believe you. And yet, here you are, clearly The Swan.”

  Vanessa giggled nervously, felt a little pathetic and put his compliment down to their observed pretence. She had been the swan and new exactly how that felt, how it looked. She was no swan, not anymore. “And you…? Bet you were the athletic, super popular type. A Jock, as they would call you in the movies.” She lowered her voice. “Did they have Jocks in England?” Vanessa wiped her mouth after a begrudging sip of red wine, but felt strangely compelled to hold it in her mouth a moment, to enjoy its assault on her tongue before swallowing, and she thoroughly enjoyed it. She could understand why Jonathon ordered this one specifically.

  Wow, so I like wine now? That’s new.

  * * *

  Jonathan had persuaded Vanessa to relax and take one glass of Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon, from the Napa Valley. The only wine made in the USA that he would drink. He liked that she did not know how expensive it was but didn’t seem to care, and that she wasn’t a big drinker, but could be persuaded to try it. He also enjoyed noticing how she had instinctively held on to it for a moment before swallowing. It proved to him a certain level of untapped potential, and he became excited that she was someone with a surface which did not necessarily illustrate the full wealth of personality beneath the top layer.

  As she had done, he allowed the taste of the grape to infuse in his mouth for a second. Then closing his eyes, he eventually swallowed, and enjoyed the warming effect on his gullet and the smooth after taste. The first swallow of a good wine should be utterly absorbed, even if the rest were taken during conversation, their wonder almost entirely lost if the company was good enough. “Um, I hated school actually. But my favourite music was then, the same as it is now.”

  He placed his gla
ss on the table and rested his chin on one palm, and smiled at Vanessa.

  “What, I gotta guess?” she asked, wondering why he hated school. He must have had everyone on their knees.

  “Try.” he said, before sipping more wine and licking his lips.

  Feeling a little hot now, she was still up for the challenge. Considering him, his refinement, his English upbringing, his intelligence and head for business, Vanessa guessed, “Classical. Or maybe Opera?” and held her breath in preparation.

  “Ha,” he laughed. “I knew you’d say that. No, neither are my favourite, although I have great respect and admiration for some of the great classical composers, such as Vivaldi, Handel, Mozart, Beethoven, Rossini, Mendelssohn, Chopin, Wagner, Tchaikovsky, and you’ll find ClassicFM set as number 3 in all my car stereo systems.”

  “Oh!” She feigned surprise. “Were you saying something?” She yawned, playing down his bragging. “You lost me during the very long list.” She wondered how many cars he actually had and when she would get her car, as requesting in the contract.

  “Shouldn’t I go on then?” He asked, play-hurt, head tilted.

  “Why not?” Vanessa took another exquisite sip of wine and secretly cherished how the warmth of its coating her throat complimented the warmth stirred elsewhere by his flirty interactions. “You’re sure on a roll.”

  He grinned in response. “Well, I have enjoyed opera. L'Orfeo for example, is the very best of its class. Monteverdi was the "founding father" of the operatic form. I will take you, if you like.”

  “Me at the opera?” she scoffed. She was a small town chick and certainly not opera-date material. She imagined a load of stuffy snobs all dressed up in heaven knows what, spending lord knows how much, talking a load of old nonsense about someone singing too loudly in a room built for acoustics—not fun. “What’s it about?”

  He flashed his perfect teeth, “Well, Orpheus, a mythological musician and hero, tries to save Euridice from the Underworld when she dies from a snake bite. What is superb though, is that he tries to save her with his own music. It is deeply emotional, at times melancholy. Ah, it is transcendent. But then I look at it from a musicians standpoint, you might hate it.”

  She admired his passion and his intelligence. There wouldn’t be many guys in their twenties so open to opera, to the emotional, to the transcendent. “That actually sounds … powerful. I might like to see it through your eyes.” She meant that too, though doubted he would take her to an opera, of all places.

  He grinned.

  Vanessa became aware that he had skillfully avoided speaking about his family, his childhood, and his favorite music. The first two could be shared when he was ready, if ever. But the truth about his favorite music was hers for the taking. “So, what is your favorite music, if not Classical or Opera?”

  “Ah.” He called the waiter, pointed to our glasses, then told him to put the Champagne on ice please. Then Vanessa nearly fell off her chair when he him to tell Nobu to come say hello when he had a moment.

  Heaven, she thought. Is that the world famous chef and founder of these internationally acclaimed restaurants? Nah, must just be the chef who works here, called Nobu. How common is that name exactly?

  Jonathan continued on with the favourite music debate. “If I had to sum it up, I’d say my favourite album is Robert Johnson: King of the Delta Blues Singers, and unsurprisingly therefore, my favourite music is Blues. Well, Blues and Jazz.”

  Vanessa mulled it over, never having heard of Robert Johnson. Unaware if she had ever heard any real Blues or Jazz. Wasn’t that an old man’s music? She wondered if her dad had been the kind of man to listen to it. “Um, nice,” was all she could think to say. Then she asked, “Anything else?” hoping to recognise something of his other tastes.

  “Well...”

  She suddenly thought of a few she had heard of, “Ah,” clicking her fingers. “like Nine Simone, Louis Armstrong. That sort of thing?”

  “Yeah, you got it,” said Jonathan.

  Vanessa felt very proud of herself. She could do this. She could date a guy totally out of her league, for money, who was also her boss.

  The waiter placed the Champagne in an ice bucket next to their table, then topped up their wine glasses. Vanessa hated Champagne but knew she would feel oblige to drink at least a sip when the cork was popped. She also made a decision to look up more of his favourite music on You Tube.

  Robert Johnson. thought Vanessa. Remember that name for later.

  After he enjoyed a rather large gulp of his wine, he smiled, “Oh, and I play piano, a mean guitar, and I’m not bad on the triangle, either.”

  He sniggered and Vanessa joined him.

  “You’re an old soul then, musically at least.”

  “Am I?” he asked. “Miss Stiles, seems you’re getting to know me. Now how about you let me get to know you?

  Yikes.

  One hour later, the group of people that had been speaking with Jonathan when Vanessa came in were still very much there. Jonathan seemed to have forgotten all about them, but despite trying and succeeding on and off, Vanessa couldn’t completely shrug them entirely out of her consciousness.

  She dearly wanted to relax, perhaps even forget they were play-acting, and enjoy herself as easily as Jonathan did. This wasn’t her world, it was Jonathan’s and she felt more and more out of her comfort zone.

  “Don’t you tire of them? Their incessant staring and clicking.” she asked him.

  “I never really had friends like those you see in movies, just people who serve their purpose and stay out of my way when they become redundant.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but his cool exterior trembled ever so slightly.

  Vanessa thought this was the saddest thing ever, and that once the divorce came through, he would have no use for her either. Perhaps she would end up so desperate to hang out in his circle by that time that she too would follow him around, even on his dates, and fill her Smartphone memory cards with images of him.

  Oh God no, she told herself. Don’t let me ever become that pathetic, or so lacking in self-respect. Not again.

  “Those guys over there have all been useful to me at one time or another, and will be again. As I’ve been useful to them too, of course. It’s not all about me!” he laughed, then finished his wine off. “It’s difficult to meet people who don’t want something, isn’t it?”

  And he was right, it was difficult. “I guess,” said Vanessa. Listening to him reminded her of herself. They shared a cynicism too profound for their young age. Had he been hurt too?

  Lost in thought, silence filled the gap between them stretching out across their table, and she became aware of her surroundings even more. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a little exposed again.

  Just then, “Ah, Nobu.” Jonathan stood to greet the famous chef, and they bowed to each other.

  Vanessa wasn’t sure what to do. “Hi,” she said, struggling to move from behind the table to join in their greeting, too quickly. In her struggle, she rocked the table and her wine spilt over, her dress and the floor. “Oh shit! I mean, I’m so sorry. Look what I did.”

  She glared over at the table of observers who captured the moment on their cameras while laughing or grinning like duplicates of The Joker.

  “Oh that’s it.” Vanessa sniped, throwing her napkin on the spillage. She dashed from around the table, past both Nobu and Jonathan toward the exit.

  Jonathan called “Wait, Vanessa. Please.”

  * * *

  Jonathan gasped, feeling a mixture of bemusement, frustration and concern. He apologised to Nobu, who clicked his fingers for his staff to clean up, and told Jonathan to run after his date.

  He followed Vanessa, grimacing at his ‘friends’ as he passed them, in as controlled a manner as possible. After he escaped their eyes and cameras, and saw Vanessa running ahead of him to the exit of the hotel, he called, “Stop, Vanessa,” but she wouldn’t turn around or slow down.

  * * *

  V
anessa made it outside and drank in the night air. Panic seized her throat and trampled on her chest. Why had she had allowed her anxiety to build so much? She didn’t want to deal with his world, or with his famous friends who used each other. Why should she have to wear a thousand dollar dress to eat raw fish, or pretend to date her boss for a chance at a safer future?

  “Why?” she barked at no one.

  Roger had parked up over the road after dropping her off, waiting for the call to take the couple to their separate homes. When she saw him, she wanted to run to his car. She needed home, her own kind of normality, her own space where she could remove the layers of lies and be Julia Brookes, prom queen, simple girl, and unfortunate ex-girlfriend of Mike the abuser. An innocent woman with only one desire in her heart— to be loved, and to love again. “Roger, Roger!” she called out, wishing the damned traffic would stop for long enough for her to cross over, reach his car, and get home.

  She glared at every car driving past, cursing them all for getting in her way. Vanessa even considered walking a mile up the road to the crossings, but felt exposed wearing expensive clothes and carrying a stupidly expensive handbag. She didn’t want to stray too far alone. Hanging around alone in the centre of town is not a great idea for any woman, but she was a prime target all dressed up like that. In those heels, she would break her neck before making her escape. “What am I even doing here?”

  Just then, someone breathed on the back of her neck, “There you are.”

  Instinctually, Vanessa whirled around, uppercut the owner of the voice in the face, using kickboxing skills for the first time outside of the classroom, “Get back!” she shouted.

  Propelled backward a few feet, Jonathan barely maintained his footing, “Shit, stop!” he shrieked, holding his throat, coughing between words. “It’s just me, Vanessa.”

  She moved out of her fighting stance and gasped, her hands over her mouth, her body shivering. What was she doing? “Oh no. I just… You scared me.”