Falling for the Secret Millionaire (7 page)

He was talking a lot of sense. Putting things into words that she'd already started to think about. ‘It's a possibility.' She continued staring at the ceiling. ‘There are all kinds of styles around the cinema, everything from Edwardian through to slightly shabby nineteen-seventies. It's a mess, and it'd be sensible to take it back to one point in time. And, with features like this, it'd make sense to restore the building back to how it was when it was a ballroom and cinema. It's a shame there won't be any colour pictures to give me any idea what the original decorative schemes looked like, though. There definitely isn't any paperwork giving any details.'

‘Actually, there might be colour photos,' he said, and grabbed his phone. After a few seconds' browsing, he handed the phone to her so she could see for herself. ‘Just as I thought. According to this website, colour photos exist from as far back as the middle of the eighteen hundreds.'

‘But weren't they coloured by hand, back then—so they were colourised rather than actually being printed in colour?' Nicole pointed out.

‘Look, you can see the three different print overlay colours at the edge of this one.' He pored over the screen with her. ‘But it also says the process was time-consuming.'

‘And expensive, so it'd be reserved for really big news stories—unless I guess someone was really wealthy and did it as a hobby. Though would they have taken a picture of the building?'

‘There might be something in the local archive office,' he said. ‘Photos or sketches that people haven't seen for a century.'

They looked at each other, and Nicole thought, he's as excited by this as I am. But was this Clarence standing next to her or Gabriel? She couldn't be sure. And, until she was sure, she didn't dare trust him. ‘Maybe,' she said carefully.

He'd clearly picked up her wariness, because he said, ‘It is as it is. I'd better let you get on. See you at seven.'

‘OK.'

Though when Nicole got home it occurred to her that he hadn't told her where they were going, and she didn't have a clue whether she was supposed to dress up or dress down.

She thought about it in the shower while she was washing her hair. If she wore jeans, she'd feel uncomfortable in a posh restaurant—and would he take her somewhere posh to try to impress her? But if she dressed up, she'd feel totally out of place in a more casual bistro.

Little black dress, she decided. Something she would feel comfortable in no matter the situation. And high heels, so he'd know she wasn't intimidated by him.

Bring it on, she thought.

Bring it on.

CHAPTER FIVE

G
ABRIEL
PARKED
OUTSIDE
Nicole's flat. Nerves fluttered in his stomach, which was absolutely ridiculous, and completely out of character. This wasn't a real date; it was discussing mutual business interests. There was no reason why he should be feeling like this.

Yet this was Nicole. Georgygirl.

And that made things that little bit more complicated.

He and Nicole were on opposite sides. Rivals. And yet Georgy was his friend. The girl he'd got to know over the last six months and really liked. The one person who saw him for who he really was.

How ironic that, now they'd met in real life, she didn't see him at all. She saw Gabriel Hunter, the ruthless businessman: not Clarence, her friend.

He shook himself. It was pointless brooding. Things were as they were. All he could do was make the best out of it and try to salvage a few things from this mess. Maybe he could reach a better understanding with her, in business if nothing else.

Nicole lived in a quieter part of Surrey Quays, in what he recognised as a former industrial complex that had been turned into four-storey apartment blocks. The brickwork was a mellow sand colour; one side had floor-to-ceiling windows and the three upper storeys had a wrought iron balcony. There were trees and raised planted beds in the square, and the whole thing was pretty and peaceful—exactly the kind of place where he'd expected Georgy to live.

He pressed the button to her intercom.

‘I'm on my way,' she said.

Economical with words, as usual, he thought with a smile.

But he was blown away when she walked out of the doors to the apartment block. She was wearing a simple black shift dress, with high-heeled black court shoes and no jewellery. Her hair was still pulled back from her face, but this time it was in a sophisticated updo that reminded him of Audrey Hepburn.

‘You look amazing,' he said, before he could stop himself.

She inclined her head. ‘Thank you.'

And now he felt like he was on his first date all over again. Which was stupid, because as a teenager he'd been overconfident and reckless, never worrying about what people thought of him. He took a deep breath. ‘It's only a short drive from here.'

‘Short enough to make it more sensible to walk? I can change my shoes.'

‘We'll drive,' he said.

He half expected her to make an acerbic comment about his car—a sleek convertible—but she climbed into the passenger seat and said nothing. It wasn't exactly an easy silence between them, but he had no idea what to say, so he concentrated on driving. And she did nothing to dispel the awkwardness between them, either.

Was this a mistake?

Or was she as confused by this whole thing as he was?

Once he'd parked and they were out of the car, he gestured to the narrowboat moored at the quay. ‘The food at this place is excellent,' he said.

She read the sign out loud. ‘La Chiatta.'

‘Italian for “the barge”,' he translated.

‘Effective.' But then she looked at the narrowboat and the ramp which led from the quay to the deck. The tide was low, so the angle of the ramp was particularly steep. From the expression on her face, Nicole clearly realised she wouldn't be able to walk down that ramp in high heels. Although clothing was something they'd never really talked about in their late-night conversations, Gabriel had the strongest feeling that Nicole almost never wore high heels and had only worn them tonight to prove a point.

‘We have two choices,' he said. ‘We can go somewhere else that doesn't have a ramp.'

‘But you've booked here, yes? It's not fair to the restaurant if we just don't turn up.'

He shrugged. ‘I'll pay them a cancellation fee so they don't lose out.'

‘What's the second choice?'

Something that would probably get him into trouble, but he couldn't stop himself. ‘This,' he said, and picked her up.

‘Gabriel!'

It was the first time she'd used his given name and he rather liked it.

But maybe picking her up had been a mistake. Not because she was too heavy, but because she was so close that he could feel the warmth of her skin and smell the soft floral scent of her perfume, and it made him want to kiss her.

That was so inappropriate, it was untrue.

‘Hold on tight,' he said, and carried her down the ramp before setting her on her feet again.

‘I don't believe you just did that,' she said, sounding shocked.

Clearly tonight she was seeing him as Gabriel the corporate shark, not Clarence. ‘No, it was a solution to a problem. By the time we've finished dinner the tide will have changed and you'll be able to walk up the ramp relatively easily.'

She gestured towards the ramp, where a man and a woman were gingerly making their way down together. ‘He's not carrying her.'

‘Probably because she's wearing flat shoes. No way could you have walked down that ramp in
those
without falling over.' He gestured to her shoes.

‘You could've warned me.'

‘I didn't even think about it,' he admitted.

‘Or I could have taken off my shoes just now.'

‘And ended up standing on a sharp stone or something and hurting yourself? My way was simpler, and it's done now so there's no point in arguing about it.'

‘If you say, “It is what it is”,' she warned, ‘I might just punch you.'

He laughed. ‘Think about it. It's true. Come and have dinner, Nicole. Have you been here before?'

‘No.'

‘The pasta is amazing.'

She didn't looked particularly mollified, but she thanked him politely for opening the door for her and walked inside.

* * *

This was supposed to be a business discussion, Nicole thought, so why did it feel like a date?

And she still couldn't quite get over what Gabriel had just done on the ramp. Even Jeff, back in the days when she was still in ignorant bliss of his affair and trusted him, wouldn't have done something like that.

What was worse was that she'd liked being close to Gabriel—close enough to feel the warmth of his skin and smell the citrusy scent of whatever shower gel he used.

And, just before he'd set her back down on her feet, she'd actually wondered what it would be like if he kissed her.

She needed to get this out of her head right now. They weren't friends and they weren't dating; this was strictly business.

Once the waitress had brought their menus and she'd ordered a glass of red wine—noting that Gabriel was sticking to soft drinks—she looked at him. ‘Is there anything in particular you recommend?'

‘The honeycomb cannelloni is pretty good, and their ciabatta bread is amazing.'

‘Sounds good.' At least their tastes meshed when it came to food. He hadn't lied to her about that, then.

Once the waitress had taken their order, he leaned back in his chair. ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet me tonight, Nicole.'

‘As you say, it's business and neither of us has time to waste. We might as well eat while we discuss things, and save a bit of time.'

She really hoped that it didn't show in her voice how much she was having to fight that spark of attraction. She was absolutely
not
going to let herself wonder what it would be like to run her fingers through his hair, or how the muscles of his back would feel beneath her fingertips.

To distract herself, she asked, ‘So what really happened?'

He looked puzzled. ‘When?'

‘Your teenage incident.'

* * *

Gabriel really hadn't expected her to bring that up. Where was she going with this? Was it to distract him and make him agree to a business deal that, in a saner moment, he would never even have considered? Or maybe he was just being cynical because he'd spent too long in a ruthless business world. Maybe she really did want to know. He shrugged. ‘You said you'd read up about it, so you already know the details.'

‘I know what was reported, which isn't necessarily the same thing.'

That surprised him, too. She was more perceptive than he'd expected. Then again, how could he tell her the truth? It felt like bleating. And at the end of the day he was the one who'd done something wrong. He shrugged again. ‘I was nineteen years old, from a wealthy and privileged background and full of testosterone. My whole crowd was identikit. I guess we all thought we were invincible.'

‘I don't buy it,' she said.

‘Why not?'

‘It was your car, right?'

‘Yes,' he admitted.

‘Even full of testosterone, I don't think you would've been stupid enough to get behind the steering wheel of a car if you'd been drinking.' She gestured to his glass of mineral water. ‘And I notice you're not even having one glass of wine now—which I assume is because you're driving.'

It warmed him. Even if Nicole did see him as her business rival, someone she shouldn't even like, she was being fair to him. And she'd picked up on the thing that the newspapers hadn't. ‘It is. I wouldn't put anyone at risk like that.'

‘So what really happened?'

He shook his head. ‘It doesn't matter now. I was the one behind the wheel with alcohol in my bloodstream, I was the one who crashed into the shop, and I was the one whose father's expensive lawyer got me off on a technicality. It was my fault.'

‘You didn't actually know you'd been drinking, did you?'

He knew she was perceptive, but that really shocked him. ‘What makes you say that?' he asked carefully.

‘Because,' she said, ‘even given that you might've had a lot of growing up to do back then, there's a massive difference between high spirits and stupidity, and you're not stupid. Not with the highest First your university had ever awarded and an MBA from the best business school in the country.'

‘So you really did do some digging on me.' He wasn't sure if he was more impressed or discomfited.

‘Just as you did on me,' she pointed out, ‘so get off your high horse and answer the question.'

‘You're right. I didn't know I'd been drinking,' he said. ‘I assume there was vodka in my orange juice—something I wouldn't have tasted.'

‘So the people who spiked your drink got away with it.'

‘I got away with it, too,' he reminded her. ‘On a technicality.'

‘Maybe Gabriel did,' she said. ‘But I know a different side to you.'

She was actually recognising who he was? Gabriel was stunned into silence.

‘You've stuck out a job you don't enjoy, out of loyalty,' she continued, ‘because your dad sorted out the mess you made, so you didn't have a criminal record and could finish your law degree. And I think Clarence would've done something more. At the very least, Clarence would've gone to see the shop owners and apologised.'

He squirmed. Now he really understood why she'd made it up the ranks so swiftly at the bank, despite not having a degree. She was the most clear-sighted person he'd ever met. ‘Do we have to talk about this?' Because he could see where this was going, and it made him antsy.

‘If we're really going to work together in any way, shape or form,' she said, ‘I need to know who you are. Are you the heir to Hunter Hotels, who dates a different woman every week?'

‘Strictly speaking, I haven't dated at all for the last six months.' Since he'd first started talking to her online. Which hadn't actually occurred to him until now. Was that why he hadn't dated? Because part of him was already involved with her?

‘Or are you really my friend Clarence?' she asked.

‘It's not that black and white,' he said. Part of him was Gabriel, the heir to Hunter Hotels, desperate to make up for his past mistakes and yet feeling stifled. And part of him was Clarence, a man who actually connected with people around him. If the crash hadn't happened, what would his life have been like? He wouldn't have had to spend so much time biting his tongue and reminding himself to be grateful. Maybe he could've been Clarence all the time. ‘I could ask you the same. Are you Nicole Thomas, the workaholic banker, or are you Georgygirl, who dreams of the stars?' He paused. ‘And you've got the stars, right on the ceiling of your cinema.'

‘Maybe I'm a bit of both,' she said.

‘And so,' he said, ‘am I.'

‘So what did you do?'

He sighed. ‘You're not going to let this go, are you? Nicole, it's not public knowledge and I want it to stay that way.'

‘Who else knows?'

‘Two others.'

‘Not your father?'

‘No,' he admitted. Evan Hunter had decreed that everything was done and dusted. The shopkeeper had been paid off, Gabriel didn't have a criminal record and, although Evan hadn't said it in so many words, Gabriel would be paying for that mistake for the rest of his life. He certainly had, to date. And he felt as if he'd never earn his father's respect.

‘The shopkeeper, then,' Nicole said. ‘And his wife.'

She was good, he thought. Incisive. Good at reading people and situations. ‘I'm saying nothing until I know this stays with you,' he said.

‘Do you trust me?'

‘Do you trust me?' he countered.

She sighed. ‘We're back to the online-or-real-life thing. Two different people.'

‘Are we? Because I'd trust Georgygirl and I think you'd trust Clarence.'

She spread her hands. ‘OK. It's your decision.'

If he told her, it would give her leverage.

If he didn't, it would tell her that he didn't trust her and she couldn't trust him.

He thought about it. Was it a risk worth taking? Strategically, it meant giving a little now to gain a lot in the future.

‘Obviously my father paid for the damage to the shop,' he said. ‘But you can't solve everything with money.'