Exclusive Love (British Billionaires Series) (5 page)

Chapter Six

Vision focusing in the dark, Katy knew she was not in her own bed. Instead, she was engulfed in a king-size mattress. Performing a full 360 degree turn left and right, with outstretched hands, she was unable to reach a bedside table. The mattress was a firm delight. The smell and feel of the crisp sheets had her comforted in a situation that would normally call for alertness and caution. Even with the dim glow of what she suspected to be a lamp, it took a minute or two before eyes became accustomed to the room.

Dragging herself from the luxury of the bed was a strain. Forcing herself to sit upright, supported by the headboard, she realized she had no clue where she was. Opposite her was a modest-sized living room with a standing lamp. Lying on the sofa was the shape of another body. Sensing who she was with, she squinted hard trying to bring him into acute focus. Boring her eyes communicated with him on a subconscious level. The blurry form of Oscar shifted awkwardly on the sofa. Dropping a leg, his bare foot hitting the carpet jolted him from sleep.

Positioning himself formally on the couch, automatically his eyes flew to Katy.

‘Don’t be scared,’ he whispered, triggering a reason for Katy to be scared.

Her brown eyes were huge and afraid.

‘You passed out. I think it was a migraine. You had medication in your handbag. You asked me to fetch it. I gave you the tablet you asked for. You took it with water in my car. You weren’t able to manage to tell me your home address. It seemed sensible to take you here. You’ve been sleeping since.’

Katy was nodding, letting Oscar know she’d heard and comprehended what he said with a calm, cool and caring voice.

‘Is my medication nearby?’

Remaining rooted to the chair lest he frighten the half-awake young lady, he gestured to the right bedside table.

‘You had a blister pack with two tablets. I only gave you one.’

      Heavy-headed with the migraine lingering, Katy literally crawled across the mattress to retrieve her tablets. Her nails sliding over the table and crashing into the bedside lamp inclined Oscar to turn the lights on. He let her fumble half-blindly, concerned the reality of her whereabouts might shock her or the bright lights affect her headache. Having minor knowledge of migraines, he trusted Katy. Even in her sleepy coma-like state was confident treating herself.

On the exploratory mission to find the remaining tablet, Katy’s hand careered into a glass of water. Lifting it to confirm she hadn’t knocked it over, she was glad to have liquid to swallow the pill. No sooner had she taken it then she rolled sideways into a heavy sleep.

Waiting for her breathing to deepen, Oscar watched till he was certain she was asleep. He favored a cool room. Setting the air conditioner to a low temperature could be breezy to those not acclimatized to his preferences. Hauling the covers over her, he hadn’t meant to hesitate. Catching sight of her face, asleep Katy was only youth and innocence. Radiating an indescribable energy, the outspoken, quick witted journalist of earlier had been replaced by an angelic girl.

Oscar knew when he’d initially met Katy he wanted to drink and run. As she’d opened up and lowered her barriers over the course of two drinks, he’d hoped the night would overrun. Certainly any intention that may have given rise later to her accompanying him home would not have been under these particular set of circumstances.

Knowing he wouldn’t fall asleep for a while, he was tempted to unfold the pull-out sofa bed. Worried the noise would wake Katy, he settled on the couch hoping for rest.

* * * *

      Waking brighter and revitalized, the room was flooded with light. Katy’s eyes were greeted by an expensive, contemporary furnished hotel room. The sycamore wood furniture complimented the neutral décor. The golden silk and velvet drapes visible from her bed gave the room character as opposed to a universal ambiance one might expect from traditional interior design.

      Knowing it was Oscar’s room, she was surprised it wasn’t grander. That the sleeping, living and dining area weren’t separate hinted this wasn’t the flashiest suites the Four Seasons had to offer. Unsure of what to do, she decided to explore. Throwing back the covers, Katy realized, while dressed, she was not in her clothes. Her black Chanel dress was hanging on the parallel wardrobe running the length of the king size bed.

      Comfortable in the oversized Cambridge university shirt, in order for her to be wearing it, someone (who could only be Oscar) would had to have got her out of her dress. The person undressing her would have caught sight of her near naked body.

Her bra was flung on the floor by the side of the bed giving greater cause for concern. Had anything happened between the two that wasn’t honorable and decent? Preparing to deal with Oscar, the doorbell rang. Getting her bearings to navigate towards the door, Katy heard it open and the low tones of Oscar’s voice. There was the clattering of a trolley wheeled in. Bed hair and half-naked in a man’s t-shirt was not how she wanted to bid good morning to Oscar or the hotel staff.

Racing to the bed, she hurdled the frame to hide under the covers. Mistimed, her toe caught on the end of the bed. Crashing face first on the mattress heavily, Katy remained frozen.

      Guiding room service to the terrace with the breakfast he’d rung downstairs for, Oscar was shocked to see Katy on all fours, face down on the bed. Shirt around her waist, Katy exposed a pair of peachy buttocks in French knickers on full show for the brigade of passing staff. Running to her aid would be unwelcome. Apologizing to the staff would draw attention to the bedroom calamity.

      Twice in twelve hours this beguiling creature had him bewildered and out of his depth socially as how to behave in the bizarre spectacles she created. Whisking her home from the club last night had been daunting enough. Responsibility pervading over general practice of escorting her directly home. The clash of breakfast and a bare bum was too much for the usually unruffled Oscar to contend with.

Breakfast laid on an outdoor table on the terrace overlooking Central Park, Oscar led the undersized parade of staff out. Tipping them on exit he paid no reference to Katy on his bed. Counting slowly to ten he reentered.

‘Are you hurt or trying to seduce me?’ he called, closing the front door.

The ice breaker was a relief and drained the awkwardness from Oscar’s reappearance. Standing on the bed, Katy braced herself to deal with the smirking billionaire as he prowled in.

‘How did I come to be wearing this shirt?’ she demanded, as he poked his head round from the corridor.

‘I sacrificed a night’s sleep by taking the couch in order that you had a bed to yourself. Please do not bring into question my integrity when it comes to a woman who literally threw herself at my feet.’

‘I passed out.’

‘That’s your story!’

‘Are you implying I faked it?’ snapped Katy.

‘Come down,’ he said, offering a hand for her to take.

      Oscar’s physical presence filled the room. His biceps bulged under his tight white t-shirt, the clingy material showing off a flat stomach. The gray jogging bottoms hung low on his hips. Even loose, they were unable to disguise the bulging package underneath. He wasn’t only handsome and dashing, but completely ripped in terms of his buff body.

Stepping down from the bed she was greeted by floor to ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. Gasping at the incredible view, they were so high up the people were the size of ants. The sight sucked the aggression she’d intended to use as a mask for embarrassment from her. Oscar found himself not letting go of Katy’s hand, taking her to the open door leading to the terrace with a table and chairs set up for the breakfast spread.

‘You hungry?’ he asked.

‘Am I ever!’

Releasing her hand, he returned seconds later with a complimentary bath robe to allow her bountiful modesty to enjoy the meal. Oscar thought it sweet that Katy remained a statue, taking in the early morning city landscape.

‘If you fancy covering up—’

Spinning round, she saw the plush white robe held open by Oscar. Allowing him to assist her, she tied the belt firmly round her waist. Venturing out barefoot on the terrace, she sat eating fruit salad and yoghurt in awe of the scene. Tackling the full English breakfast he’d ordered, Oscar watched Katy’s eyes flicker and dart, examining and assessing what was happening below.

‘It’s as if you’ve never seen the city from this height,’ he speculated, hoping to engage her in conversation.

‘Even if you looked at this city from the same point at the same time every day you’d never actually see it identically. It’s nature providing the light. Our body movements, however subtle or inconsequential, will shift the frame through which we view things.’

‘This coming from the girl who claimed to be a heathen. A journalist, or a writer I wonder.’

He’d caught her attention. The billionaire had actually listened to what she’d said last night. Remembered it, paid attention to her. It wasn’t what Katy expected.

‘Sometimes I talk nice cause I learned to write real good at school,’ she said adopting the voice of a stereotypical, uneducated person commonly referred to as ‘trailer trash’.

Oscar laughed. Her self-deprecating humor resonated with him. Unwilling to openly acknowledge what he strongly suspected to be the soul of a poet, she wasn’t fishing for compliments. Her self-mockery acknowledged her talents with the English language.

‘I’m glad you stayed for breakfast,’ the warm beams of sun hindered Oscar directly catching Katy’s eyes. ‘I thought you may have tried to depart unnoticed.’

‘Any chance I had of achieving that was stolen when I lost my balance trying to dive from the end of the bed to burrow under the covers to hide from the troupe you were marching in.’

‘It wasn’t merely your balance you lost. Sadly your dignity disappeared as well,’ updated Oscar. ‘I was glad to see the red French knickers matched the bra.’

‘I was sure I read somewhere the English gentry seek to behave properly. A lady’s reputation the forefront of their actions.’

‘Goodness gracious me. What antiquated book did you dig that out from?’

‘You represent a new breed of English gent then?’

‘Not at all. Put me in the company of a lady and I’ll show you the exact type of cardboard, bland, British millionaire you’re online to find.’

‘I don’t like the implication I’m not a lady,’ snarled Katy, tearing a hole in her toast as she vented her anger buttering it with a knife.

‘And I don’t like being pigeon-holed,’ retorted Oscar humorously.

‘You’re very annoying.’

‘You’re very outspoken.’

Sulking, Katy waited for him to beg her pardon. Subdued, he ate his sausages and bacon, occasionally dipping his fried bread in the egg yolk.

‘I thought you said you were glad I stayed for breakfast?’

‘I am,’ he said placidly.

‘Even though I’m outspoken?’

‘I like outspoken.’

‘I’d rather be outspoken than annoying,’ she said huffily.

Trying to goad him, Katy hoped to find a space in their conversation to get a step up on him.

‘There are those, not including myself, that find outspoken people annoying,’ he notified her.

      He had her beat. She hated it. She respected it. She loved it. It was schoolyard behavior—a boy pulling a girl’s pigtails to make her cry if he fancied her. Was Oscar essentially a child trapped in a man’s body?

‘Are you going to enlighten me as to how I ended up in your t-shirt?’